AN: So... I was reading another collection of Des/Shaun, Ezio/Leo, and Alt/Mal stories... When I wanted to write my own. I don't know where these are coming from, but I'm in a HUGE Assassin's Creed mood, so we'll see what happens, I suppose. O3o Let's see how many I can belt through before I'm too tired/dead/whatever to think anymore. I'm going to try for three, at least.

Have some Des/Shaun, first!

"Desmond, do you not know the meaning of a shower, or a fresh sweatshirt, at least?" Shaun began as he walked into the room, his tone biting, but eyes soft. It caught the young Assassin a little off-guard as he turned to see the expression on that handso- That stupid British jerk-face. Yeah, that was what he thought about Shaun, that was right.

"Shaun, do you not know the meaning of-" Every fiber of his being had been fully intent on coming up with the best insult for Shaun the researcher had ever heard. The only problem was, even while his mind reeled trying to think of something before, during, and after those words left his mouth... He hadn't come up with anything. Finally he felt an awkward, dark scarlet appear over his cheeks when a red eyebrow crooked at him and he breathed in expectantly. "Y-your mom."

Way to go, idiot.

Shaun's self-satisfied smirk further embarrassed Desmond, who fumbled for more words before finally shoving his hands into his pockets and grumbling something unintelligible.

Stupid Shaun and his stupid good comebacks, and stupid sexy nerd glasses, and... Wait, Des, what was that last part? No! He's stupid, and mean, and snarky, and... You can't possibly like him.

But, even as he seemed to argue with himself in his own mind, Desmond was losing the battle as he absently registered the soft clink of a tea cup being set on the counter. He seemed to forget why he was protesting when he realized the elder male had slunk into his personal space; and suddenly thoughts were a thing of the past and all he could focus on was the soft, silky feel of those lips as they met his own. Even the slight bit of saliva and lip balm that dampened their kiss didn't seem to bother him.

That was, until it was gone. Blinking useless eyes until the world came back into focus, Desmond barely registered that Shaun had already pushed past him, rather bodily, and left the room.

Smug smirk in place as he walked away from the small kitchen they had in the warehouse, Shaun Hastings had never looked so pleased with himself. And, that was saying a lot, considering Rebecca had seen a lot of times when Shaun was pretty full of himself for one reason or another. Blinking, she decided to see what the fuss was over.

"Shaun-" She barely managed before he placed a finger to his lips and shushed her.

"Desmond seems to have a fetish for British men who can outsmart him." The ginger began, "His best retort to my simply asking if he had ever heard of a shower or change of clothes was, amazingly enough, 'your mom'." As the Brit sipped his tea and Becca's eyes widened, he offered an even more evil smirk. Shaun, one. Desmond, zero. Rebecca, negative three.

AN: I really have no idea where these are coming from, but I have some ideas right now, so let the drabbles/ficlets begin!

Up next? AltMal!