Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed or anything related to Ubisoft in any way or form.
A/N: Finals are this week and I'm going a bit bonkers because of them. This was cranked out rather fast, so it's probably (read: definitely) got tons of mistakes and whatnot. Just figured that, since it's Valentine's Day, I'd contribute my little bit of love for the Des/Shaun fans. I swear they'd make a good couple. :P Also… I don't drink, so my knowledge of cocktails is iffy, at best. May rewrite this this weekend…
And yes, I'm working on "Tenet" (formerly "The Lives We Lead"), just having trouble.
Enjoy~
-.-.-
Shaun Hastings had always had everything going well for him. He'd graduated with top marks at his secondary school and proven himself worthy of the name Valedictorian there and in his university programs. He'd recently gotten the chance to study abroad, and chose the one of the States' Ivy League schools to attend, (for the history, of course). Now, as he worked toward his Master's degree, he felt he'd been blessed with the most wonderful girlfriend he'd ever had: a beautiful blonde woman from the West Coast, with bright green eyes and a love for all things history by the name of Kate, or, as Shaun fondly called her, Kitty-Kat Kate.
But Shaun never thought his life would turn on him and—despite all his efforts, his very blood, sweat, and tears—smack him right in the face. It happened right after their last final in World History, when Kate, had broken up with him. She just said goodbye, sayonara, adios, Shaun, I've found another guy. Needless to say, Shaun was devastated.
That night, the auburn-haired man found himself wandering aimlessly into the local club he frequented quite often with the few friends he had. Caramel eyes surveyed the large scantily-clad crowd bumping and grinding to the music, bass blasting through enormous speakers, and Shaun groaned as he felt an agonizing headache coming on. He made his way to the bar at the back of the establishment, which was nothing more than a polished-wood counter that was dimly lit by a few lights. But the Brit knew that this place served some of the best drinks in town.
Shaun groaned to himself as he slid into a stool in the darkest corner of the bar. Dark, to match his mood. He barely noticed the bartender sidle up to the counter in front of him, waving him off with a demand for a martini, and he jumped when the man spoke.
"Well, that's really a nice way to greet a friend, Shaun," the man replied. The Brit glared up to see a man dressed in a black shirt with his sleeves rolled up, brown hair cropped short with a scar marring the right side of his lips, already sliding a martini across the counter toward him. "The usual, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah…" Shaun sighed, running his hand through his hair. He'd been a customer at the bar long enough for Desmond, the head bartender, to remember his name, and the opposite was the same. Desmond, his brown eyes flecked with gold, watched keenly as the Brit downed the drink in a few gulps, slamming the glass down with nearly enough force to shatter it.
"'ey! Easy on the glasses, Shaun, or else you'll have to pay for those too." Desmond swept the glass away to be cleaned before settling the Brit with a quiet stare.
"You okay man?" Shaun glared at the bartender over the rim of his glasses.
"Yes, Desmond, I'm just about to have tea with the queen," he muttered sarcastically. "Of course I'm not bloody all right! My girlfriend broke up with me today." Shaun was surprised at how easily the truth slipped from his lips. Must've been the alcohol. Or maybe he really did want someone to listen to his problems for once. Desmond recognized the obvious gloom in Shaun's voice despite the typical snarky front the historian tried to put up. The bartender turned to the shelves of liquor behind him, grabbed a few bottles as Shaun's head dropped into his hands, glasses forgotten by his side for the moment, and poured the liquids into a mixing glass.
"So… your girlfriend's gone… What are you gonna do now?" Desmond asked over his shoulder.
"Drink myself into bloody oblivion, what else would I do?" Shaun said irritably, the alcohol from his martini already getting to him. "Bloody American…"
Desmond's lips curled into a slight smile as he poured the drink he'd been making into a glass, neatly sliding the dark concoction across the counter to the distressed man. Shaun was about to complain about Desmond's obvious mistake in his order—"What the bloody hell is this? I asked for a-"—before he was cut off by the bartender's lips on his. Shaun was almost glad that he'd chosen the darkest corner of the bar that night, so no one saw the kiss, or the way Desmond's hand slipped around Shaun's neck, pulling the history major closer and knocking his glasses askew as tongues battled in a sudden, heated battle.
Shaun was pleasantly speechless when the kiss broke and he felt his face bloom coral as he watched Desmond smile at him from behind his fogged glasses.
"A Kiss in the Dark."
"What?"
"You asked what the drink was," Desmond replied quietly. "It's a Kiss in the Dark." The two leaned away from each other, reflecting on the suddenness of the kiss, and how good it felt to feel the other's lips.
"You know, if she left you for another dude, she's not worth your time," Desmond murmured huskily. "Maybe you should try someone new." Shaun pretended to be indignant.
"Shove off, you damn wanker," he muttered. But he couldn't help smiling as he took the first sip of the drink, swirling it around thoughtfully.