Fandom: Assassin's Creed Couple: Desmond/Shaun Rating: T (for ages 18 and up)
Disclaimer: If anyone has the gall to believe I own even a slither of the AC series, I've got a wallaby to sell you.
WARNING: This contains male/male romance. If you're adverse to male/male romance, and/or the featured couple, PLEASE acquaint yourself with your back button.
Oxford University: A prominent university in Britain.
Assassin's Creed AU. Shaun started off as an Abstergo victim, but was rescued by Desmond and Lucy. Rebecca aided them in the rescue.
Find me in full swing under PeorthMoon, on DeviantArt.
With every breath, he closed the distance between his existence and life's end.
Like every other explorer, he had merely set out in search of answers. He set out for ways to make his life complete, digging up treasures from past empires. The treasures of kings and queens once fulfilled him, quenching his thirst for a purpose. Bygone kingdoms, battles and heroes gave him the air, the light he needed to survive.
As of late, though, his adventures had done nothing but gut him.
Keeping track of everything was intolerably difficult. Aided by three allies, he had spent several weeks researching the unknown. The world teetered on perpetual destruction as he did so, walking closer and closer to the edge. The world's condition reminded him of his own condition, even as he tried to bury his eyes in history's channels. The other teams were in dire need of his work, since there was a lot of research to be done. Files on Leonardo da Vinci, the Shepherd's Journal and the Pieces of Eden weren't going to spring from the ground. Not only that, but he was the greatest tactician on any team. Any team would happily prove that-including his own.
Well, he wasn't too sure about one teammate's approval.
Ah. Out of nowhere, his body temperature shot to a feverish level. Desmond was hardly a source of happiness. Ever since their daring escape from Abstergo, the ex-bartender hadn't been anything but a thorn in his side. Sure, the Miles successfully liberated the historian from Vidic's clutches, aided by the one and only Stillman. But apparently, the hair-raising rescue didn't give either man a fabulous start. The raven-haired assassin was too bent on playing the 'deranged, pissy hero', throwing his temper everywhere he could. Rebecca and Lucy were perfectly immune to his 'charms'. He, on the other hand, was an obvious magnet for Desmond's 'brilliant' charisma.
Ah. Every time he drew breath, he felt as if he drew in large pockets of heat. White-hot, agonizing heat. Dizziness distorted his vision for a brief moment. There was hardly any time to think of Desmond, or the 'wonders' he brought into an aggravated historian's life. Teams were devastated every minute, either swept into Abstergo's arms or killed off. Viciously. There was still so much to learn about Leo, the Journal-
Someone spoke, but words weren't registered. However, he gave a little jump once a hand landed on his shoulder. Eyes fluttered, he peered up into the eyes of his intruder. And it was the last person he expected to see. "Why are you still up?" the strange figure asked, hands in his pockets. He was perfectly calm-rather surprising, considering he only displayed his calm, friendly self towards the women. Shaun didn't know what to do or think. Not to mention his body heat wasn't helping.
If I didn't know any better, I'd say I was going through menopause! Damn this heat!
"It's three o'clock in the morning. You should try to catch some Zs."
"What are you, my captain? Is it really your place to give me orders?"
The raven took a seat at the tactician's side. He was calm, but thoroughly exhausted. "Just wondering what you're up to," he said softly, wearing a look Shaun had never seen before. Lucy had probably seen it half a million times.
"It seems like you're up, around the clock."
The Hastings bit his bottom lip, desperately trying to ignore his rising body temperature. Any higher, and he'd start sweating. Damn it damn it damn it-
"How nice of you to notice. History doesn't unfold itself, lovely, and our manpower dwindles every hour. If I-"
The assassin's eyes widened. "I?"
"Damn it, Desmond! The Journal isn't going to invite us to a lovely little picnic! And in case you've forgotten, the Journal's meant to lead us to the Pieces of Eden! If you don't mind, I'd like to concentrate on my work!"
There. Without a word, the raven rose from his seat. Shaun was initially overjoyed to hear him leave, but joy was only a fleeting moment. It was replaced by overwhelming sorrow, for he wished he hadn't been so rough. He was practically cruel towards Desmond, when the assassin had done nothing wrong. Perhaps their shitty excuse of a relationship was all his fault. Desmond was perfectly warm and kind with the women. Perhaps...perhaps...
A cup landed at his side, filled with a rather refreshing liquid.
"Thought you could use some tea. You're into...raspberry right?"
Cold raspberry tea. Iced raspberry tea. That's exactly what it was. And at that moment, Shaun could've leapt from his chair and smothered Desmond in kisses. "I most certainly am," the Hastings said softly, desperately suppressing the urge to drown the assassin in kisses. He could've jumped right into an icy cold pool of tea, and happily would've sent his body into seizures. At least then the damn heat flashes would stop.
"I'm surprised you remembered."
"I aim to please," the Miles said, re-taking his seat at Shaun's side. He should've been asleep himself, what with all of the bags underneath his eyes. Desmond looked as if he hadn't sleep in ages. The historian noticed something other than exhaustion, though. Ezio's descendant was on the verge of a tremendous discovery-that he could tell, just by peering into the raven's intense eyes. Looking as if he didn't have a care in the world, Desmond folded his hands onto Shaun's workspace.
"Now, let's go over everything we have so far."
Shaun took a (tremendous) swig of his tea. "What?" he asked, eyes widened. "Can't sleep?"
"No, in case you haven't noticed. I don't fancy visiting Ezio or Altair outside of the Animus."
The Hastings grimaced. "The Bleeding Effect has advanced that much, has it?"
"I'm surprised I still know who I am."
Desmond's response infused a great deal of sadness into Shaun-and Shaun made no show of hiding it. Noticing the look on the tactician's face, the Miles provided him with a gentle, comforting smile. "Long story short, I can bounce back whenever I need to," he said, poking the side of his head with a finger. Extra emphasis on his heroics.
"If I can hold on long enough to end this nightmare, great."
'Was THAT supposed to be comforting?' the historian's eyes asked. Wanting to steer away from his condition, Desmond looked at the information on Shaun's monitor. "Every Gatekeeper adds to the Journal. They add their expertise, their knowledge, to every one of its pages. If the Journal is meant to lead us to the Pieces of Eden, were the Gatekeepers...already equipped with knowledge of the Apple?"
"You mean...have they known of the Apple since birth? Considering the divine qualities of our heroes, it would be safe to assume so."
Desmond's face turned sour. "But we've only been able to uncover riddles. Nothing's in black and white."
"Witless moron. Do you honestly think any Gatekeeper, in their right mind, would paint pictures of POEs in the Journal? I mean, seriously. If destiny were that easy to communicate with, we would've lost this little game ages ago!"
"I beg to differ," the ex-bartender put in. His warmth and charm caused Shaun's heart to play hopskotch. "Now. The Glyphs. It seems as if Subject 16 had a connection to either Eden or the Journal. He's trying to to paint a picture for us-and he might be directing us to-"
"Death and destruction."
"You aren't too optimistic about any of this, are you?"
"Um...our world's on the brink of destruction, we have only twenty four hours to save it...Abstergo's capturing our teams by the pound...so...how about a great big NO?"
Desmond opened his mouth to respond, but another thick wave of heat compelled Shaun to speak first. "Listen, you bloody nit," the Hastings snarled, cutting off their first pleasant conversation (much to his own horror).
"Why don't you take your leave? You've got to take center stage soon. And what are you doing, wasting your time on me anyway? I thought you were infatuated with-"
The former bartender's voice was surprisingly sharp. "Who?"
"Damn you to Hell, Desmond. LUCY!"
"Y'know, for an Oxford Professor, you aren't too smart."
"Don't tell me you've been hypnotized by Rebecca?"
"Wrong on both accounts, Professor Hastings. I'm in love with an idiot that can't see two inches in front of his face-except when it comes to his database."
The assassin said a few more words, but Shaun couldn't catch any of them. Gingerly, losing his control on what little mind he had left, he gripped his tea. Gentle hands fell onto his shoulders, the cup plunged from his hands-it crashed to the floor-
And he crashed right along with it.
