[Connor was never one to complain about anything, but this time Haytham took the cake. No, really, he took THE cake. A short fluffy-ish humorfic.]

AN: I noticed later in the game, around sequence 9, that Haytham's hair color had turned into a slight greyish tint. That's what inspired me for this! That and I'm currently eating cake.

Also, humourous encounters between them are so rare, and so I've decided to add on to the little pile of stories. Please, do review if you liked it! :)

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"Really?"

Connor sighed exasperatedly as his father, the all powerful Haytham Kenway, Grand Master of the Templar Order, sat in the corner of the kitchen huddled into a ball looking like a child. Try as he might, the younger one could plainly see him guiltily trying to hide a small plate behind his back.

"What? A man can't eat?" Haytham asked with as much innocence as he could muster. Why was his son so rattled up about the cake? Maybe it's for someone special... a small smile threatened to creep up on his lips, but seeing as his son was as serious as ever, he forced it down.

Then began a heavy silence. Connor simply stared into his father's eyes, quietly demanding answers. Haytham swore he could hear his son's rather colorful thoughts about him at the moment.

Deciding to break the awkward impromptu staring contest, Haytham rolled his eyes. "It's just cake." He said plainly as he stood up and placed his plate on a nearby table.

"Why did you take the cake?" Connor grunted, clearly upset. "If I wanted you to eat it I would have given it to you."

"But it was just there." Haytham motioned towards the rest of the uneaten treat. There was only a little over half if it left. "It would be a shame to let it go to waste."

"But it was not meant for consumption just yet." Connor sighed heavily and bit his lower lip. "Now it is ruined. As usual, it is your fault. Why must you always make things go awry?"

The older man flinched slightly, surprised by how important the cake seemed to be. If he knew eating just a slice of the pastry would get this much of a reaction from his son, he would have shoved the whole thing down his throat in the slight chance that Connor might actually freak out. That would be fun.

"I could buy you a new one, if you wish." Haytham offered, failing to stop a smirk from grazing his features. His shoulders shook ever so lightly from quiet laughter - the young assassin's evident disgruntlement over something so trivial was quite the entertaining spectacle for him.

"No, that is not necessary. It would defeat the purpose of the whole thing." Connor's eyebrows knitted together as he explained, noticing his father's humor. "What is so funny?"

"You." Haytham smiled. "What is this cake for, anyways? Why is it so important?"

"It was supposed to be my birthday gift for you." The young one answered plainly. "Today is you birthday, is it not? I had planned for you to get it later tonight."

The smile faded from the older man's lips, the full force of what he had done hitting him in that moment - he had just ruined his son's attempt at making him happy. On his birthday, especially.

"Oh, Connor, I didn't know. I do apologise. Please, uh..." Haytham stuttered, his son's random act of kindness catching him off guard. He thought of millions of ways to try and make it up to the poor boy, but one thought stood out more than the rest: "Why? Not that I don't appreciate what you did, or rather, would've done, but... does that mean you...? Are we...?" The Templar was befuddled beyond words.

"No, not that." Connor suddenly smirked. "I simply wanted to remind you how terribly old you are."

At that statement Haytham's eyes narrowed into slits. They were devoid of hate, but his son's little trick got to him. What an evil little child.