AN: So uh, this is my first Assassin's Creed fanfic, and, well, I didn't really mean for it to dwell on the Holidays but it kinda ended up doing that anyway. I don't figure Altair would celebrate Christmas, but it was for the sake of whatever I ended up writing. Sorry guys, if it means anything to anyone. Also, they're incredibly out of character and so fuzzy and warm for each other that it makes me sick. I tried to make it manlier but... it just didn't turn out that way.
Desmond landed on his couch with a disinterested sigh, sending his remote bouncing away and half of the popcorn, in the bowl he had just gotten from the kitchen, to jump up and threaten to fall out and all over himself. He looked down to the floor at his fallen remote, flopping his arm over lazily to try and retrieve it, but when he couldn't reach, he didn't bother to try and actually get it. He supposed the he was okay, for now, with watching the same stupid Christmas special reruns that had been playing since he was a kid.
Whatever.
The pajama clad man dropped his hand into the bowl of popcorn then lazily brought it up to his lips to catch the falling pieces with his tongue before they made their way back into the bowl in his lap.
Just as Rudolph was dashing through the sky to save Christmas for the millionth time since the early sixties, Desmond began to question why exactly he was even bothering to try celebrating Christmas. It wasn't like there was anything particularly happy about the past year that he had been living. There was nothing that he was really proud of, and even then, what he was proud of had quickly turned into something sinister.
"You dropped this." A hand appeared beside him, handing Desmond the remote that had bounced off of the couch when he had sat down.
"Thanks, Altair..." Desmond muttered, taking the remote and flicking the channel once before it finally sunk in. "A-Altair!" The young assassin looked up at his ancestor, eyes wide, but the grin on his face wider. Behind the Arabic assassin, Ezio Auditore was stripping his coat and hanging it up on the rack next to the door.
"Who were you expecting, Desmond?" The Italian laughed, striding over to the other two men. "Father Christmas?"
Desmond beamed. He loved it when Ezio referred to Santa as 'Father Christmas' and he loved it when Altair smiled ever so slightly, and he loved hearing their voiced and he absolutely loved the fact that they were home.
"I wasn't expecting anyone!" The youngest man grinned, almost laughing. "I-I thought you two wouldn't be coming home until after the holidays! How did you guys get done and back so quickly, I thought for sure that you would be there until mid-January!" It was true. Both of the assassins had told their young lover that they would be gone until after the holidays, on a mission that required absolute stealth and precision to end a man that was trying to end the way of life as they knew it.
Altair's deep chuckle filled Desmond's ears and he wanted to float away on the sound of it that he hadn't realized he missed so much. "We realized that it was a terrible thing to do, leaving you home alone at this time of the year, and even though it was done a little hastily, we still finished our mission with time to spare. Merry Christmas, Desmond." From behind his back, Altair pulled the blade of the man that he had assassinated; the trophy of a kill that he had planned to give to Desmond as a gift.
As the younger man gazed at the blade, an adorned, engraved knife that was surely not supposed to be used for killing, but for decoration, he felt himself overcome with another wave of adoration for the other two men. He quickly stood, knocking over the bowl of popcorn in his lap, and threw his arms around Altair's neck, from the other side of the couch. "Merry Christmas, Altair..." He muttered into the man's neck, taking in his scent that still, somehow, reminded Desmond of hay and dirt and perfection.
"Well, well, please, by all means, forget that I am here completely." The heavy Italian accent, dripping with a thick layer of sarcasm, broke the moment between the two of them. Ezio stood a few feet away from Altair, arms crossed and expression fighting off jealousy. He was looking at any place but at Altair and Desmond. "It is not like I mean anything here, you know."
Desmond nearly laughed but he knew that it truly hurt the Italian's way of life to be left out of the love. He leapt over the back of the couch deftly, landing just in front of Ezio and throwing his arms around the man. "I could never forget you, Ezio..." He muttered, breathing in deeply, taking in more of the other smells that he had missed desperately in the time that his lovers were away.
Roses, truly Ezio was a romantic at heart, pine, from where they had been on their mission, and... burning wood. There was always something that threw him off, but Desmond didn't mind. "I missed you so much Ezio..." He smiled, placing a kiss to the Italian's cheek.
Altair, ever the leading man, walked over silently and, without a word, put his arms around both of his lovers, pulling them close to him, so close, in fact, that Desmond could hear his heart beating through his thick, white clothing.
"Merry Christmas, Desmond," Ezio muttered, placing a kiss to Desmond's forehead in response to the one on his cheek.
"Merry Christmas, Ezio," Desmond replied back, a smile on his face. "I think this might be the best."