AC: MotW – Happy Birthday
A/N: Another short story set between the Chapter 35 and the Epilogue of MotW. Today, Ubisoft posted a Happy Birthday message to Desmond. A lot of people who posted comments evidently felt the same way I did – that it was a slap in the face given what happens to him later. So here's a bit of fluff. Slightly lemonish, but everyone deserves to get laid on their birthday, no?
03/13/2013
09:00
Queens, New York, USA
"Wake up, Des..."
Lucy's purr followed her hand as it traced up his chest, and Desmond stirred in his sleep, his honeyed gaze blinking open to behold Lucy smiling at him. Her blonde hair was long and loose, falling over her bare shoulders like spun gold.
Her swollen belly nudged him as she leaned closer to whisper in his ear, "Good morning, Des."
Desmond smiled, sleep still evident in his eyes.
"'Morning, beautiful."
Lucy smiled, kissing him. "Happy birthday, Desmond." Desmond blinked, suddenly fully awake, and Lucy giggled at his stunned look. "You forgot it was your birthday, didn't you?"
Desmond's golden gaze went to the glowing numbers of their alarm clock, and he looked askance at Lucy. "Shouldn't you be at work?"
Lucy laughed.
"No...you also apparently don't remember I took the day off. I suppose some memory loss is to be expected when you sleep for weeks on end..."
Desmond grinned wickedly.
"Well, there's hardly any motivation to be awake when there's not a beautiful wife around to wake me up."
Lucy smiled, blushing. "Damn that pesky work thing, or I'd be happy to be here and wake my handsome husband up with a kiss."
They'd been married for approximately a week, after Desmond's surprise proposal on Valentine's Day, and Lucy still had to pinch herself sometimes to remind herself she was really married to Desmond, and his child kicked within her womb.
Lucy could not recall any time in her life she'd been happier, and she smiled at Desmond.
"So...what would the birthday boy like for breakfast?" she asked, teasingly, and Desmond's gaze glinted as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. "Mmm...you look pretty appetizing...maybe I'll have you...for breakfast..." Lucy laughed, but she was unable to extract herself from his grip.
"Desmond!" Lucy laughed, breathlessly. Desmond kissed her, and her laughter quickly turned to a moan. "Oh, Des..."
Desmond roused some time later to the sound of the shower going. The bed was empty, and he smiled.
This was definitely turning out to be a better birthday than he'd had...probably ever, he mused. He shook off old memories of prior birthdays. His mother had always tried to make sure he got a cake and a small toy when he'd been growing up, but the only thing his father had ever given him was a day off of training.
His birthdays had been the one day a year he could count on his father not yelling at him or punishing him. He'd been envious of the easy relationships other kids had had with their parents, and it had been on his 16th birthday he'd decided to give himself the gift of leaving the Farm.
Lucy's voice broke into his reverie.
"Remembering what happened when you were a kid won't help, Des."
Desmond looked up. "How did you know that's what I was thinking about?"
Lucy sighed, grinning playfully at him. "Only a psychiatry degree and years of studying Animus subjects, Des...plus, you always have the same pensive expression when you're thinking about your Dad." She took his face in her hands and kissed him fiercely.
"I forbid you to think about any of that today Des..." Her eyes glinted a little. "Even if it means I need another shower..."
Desmond grinned despite himself. "Well...I can definitely think of worse ways to spend my birthday..."
Lucy grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck to kiss him more deeply.
At that moment, they were startled by a knock on the door to their tiny apartment. Lucy's salary from the college barely covered rent on the tiny one bedroom, but it had gotten them what they wanted...privacy they didn't have staying in the hideouts.
William had strenuously objected to them living in the city, but Lucy had put her foot down – quite vociferously – the argument had been so loud it had woken Desmond from his deep sleep and sent him running down the hallway half-dressed, fearing she was being attacked.
Now Desmond frowned as the knock came again, reluctantly rolling from the bed to pull on his sweat pants. Lucy's face became a sultry pout, and Desmond growled to himself, envisioning all sorts of ways to dismember whoever it was at the door who had interrupted them.
Desmond pulled the door open a crack, and his mother blushed as he eyed her. "Oh...did we catch you at a bad time, honey?"
Desmond swallowed. "M-Mom?"
Rachel Miles smiled tremulously at her son. "Your...your father and I just wanted to stop by and say hello...after all, it is your birthday...I..." She fumbled a little, and then pulled a box from a cooler bag. "I made you a cake..."
Desmond pulled the door the rest of the way open. "Uh...come in. Come in. Geez. One sec..."
He bolted into the back bedroom, and Lucy looked at him even as she pulled on a pair of jeans. "Des? What's wrong?" Her expression became alarmed at his wide-eyed look.
"My...my parents are here."
Lucy's gaze widened. "Your parents? Your mom, too?"
Desmond nodded, still looking a little wild-eyed.
Lucy smiled. "I'll go out to say hi...try to relax, Des."
She pulled on a shirt and left the room, and Desmond sighed, running a hand through his hair. He took a quick shower, dressing in a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, remembering to pull Kyle's dog-tags on and tucking them under the shirt.
Rachel Miles looked up as the door to the bedroom opened, revealing Desmond's tall form, dressed now in a pair of blue jeans and a black T-shirt. Lucy smiled at him as he approached, kissing her.
Desmond eyed the cake that sat on their coffee table. They didn't have a dining table – there was barely enough room in the tiny living room for a sofa and a TV. He couldn't tell what kind of cake it was, but he guessed as his mother saw him looking at it.
"It's vanilla with strawberry filling Des...I know chocolate has never been your favorite."
William cleared his throat, and Desmond's gaze went to him as he seated himself beside Lucy, absently placing a possessive hand on her swollen belly.
"Ah...happy birthday, son. You're...26 now, right?"
Desmond nodded, saying quietly, "It's been ten years since you last wished me a happy birthday, Dad. I get the feeling you don't mean it this time, either."
William's expression became pained. "Desmond...I..." He sighed, shaking his head, and Rachel smiled. "Lucy...did you get the baby things I sent you? Some of those were Des's..." Lucy smiled. "Oh? Which ones?" Rachel glanced at the two men as she said, "Show me where you have it, and I'll show you..."
Lucy saw Desmond tense as she rose to her feet. "I'll be right back Des...not like our bedroom is far away or anything." She smiled, but Desmond didn't return it, his expression pensive. Lucy and Rachel stepped discreetly out of the room, leaving Desmond and his father alone.
William put his head into his hands. Desmond eyed him, and before he could speak, William's voice was soft, hoarse.
"You're wrong Desmond...I do wish you a happy birthday. And I mean it. I just don't...dammit, I'm not good at this."
Desmond's voice was cool as he responded, "Being a father?"
William actually winced, saying lowly, "I suppose I deserved that."
Desmond was silent, and William gathered his courage again, sighing. "I never...apologized for any of what happened that day, Desmond. I wanted to say I was sorry but..." He growled, frustrated. "I'm sorry, Desmond."
Desmond's voice was soft as he said, "Why bring this up now, Dad? Why even show up here? You never gave a shit about my birthdays when I was a kid, what makes it different now?"
There was a long silence, and to Desmond's surprise, a noise emerged from between his father's clenched teeth, his hands balled into fists. It took Desmond a moment to realize it was a sob, and that tears squeezed from behind his father's tightly-closed lids.
His father shuddered, and Desmond was frozen, unable to act. He'd never seen his father cry before, and the sight of the pain the older man was in caused an almost physical pain in his chest.
"...Dad?"
William's voice shuddered as he spoke.
"What makes it different Des..." William swallowed the sob in his throat. "What makes it different is that I almost lost you. You...you could have died in that Temple, and I..." He shook his head, his expression full of self-loathing.
"You almost didn't have this birthday, son...and I don't think I could have lived with myself if I didn't...didn't tell you what it means to me, to be here, talking to you now...when...when I came so close to losing that chance."
Desmond was silent with shock, and his hand went to clasp his father's tightly, uncurling the other man's fist. Quietly, he said, "I understand Dad. I'm sorry I was such a dick to you...about today." William's hand clasped his tightly, and he unexpectedly pulled Desmond into a hug.
Desmond stiffened for a moment before hugging his father tightly a moment and releasing him.
"Hey, get hold of yourself Dad, or you'll freak out Mom." Desmond glanced towards the bedroom, and a slight blush graced his face as he heard Lucy laugh from the other room. "Desmond wore that? That's adorable!" Rachel's laugh joined hers. "I know...he used to sing a song about the frogs on that shirt..." William's expression lightened a little as he wiped his eyes and said, "I remember that frog shirt...and the song you used to sing about it." Desmond put his face into his hands, his blush burning hot in his palms. "I'm never gonna live this down am I?"
William's laugh was tremulous. "No...Lucy will take every opportunity to take pictures of the baby in that shirt and tell that story to her friends."
Desmond groaned. "Great." William sighed, and Desmond saw he was mostly back in control of himself as he looked at Desmond.
"I...I brought you something, Des." His voice was quiet. "The events since...since what happened in the vault in Rome..." His father's expression tightened. "I think it's time I gave it to you. You've more than proven you're ready to accept it...if that's your wish."
Desmond frowned.
"What is it Dad?"
William sighed, pulling a box from behind the sofa, handing it to Desmond. Desmond took it, looking at it. "What's this?"
William looked at him a little impatiently.
"Open it and see, son."
Desmond frowned, pulling the top off the box and lifting free a set of heavy, formal robes. On the back of the white leather hood was the Assassin compass, embroidered in red thread and embossed with golden thread around the edges. He looked at his father, who motioned to him.
"Try them on, Desmond."
Desmond shrugged into the Assassin's robes. They'd been tailored for him and fit perfectly. He pulled the hood up, and in the shadow of the deep cowl, his golden gaze glimmered with the power of the Apples of Eden.
His father nodded, satisfied.
"The mantle fits you well, Desmond. Do you accept it?"
Desmond pulled down the hood, eyeing his father. "The robes are nice Dad, but I'm already an Assassin."
William shook his head. "These are the formal robes of the Mentor, Desmond. It doesn't surprise me you aren't familiar with them...I only wear formal robes during official ceremonies." Desmond's eyes went wide.
"The Mentor's robes?...Dad...are you offering me leadership of the Assassins?"
William smiled a little sadly, his eyes tracing over Desmond's tall form wrapped in the robes. "I don't have to offer it to you, Desmond. It's already yours...if you accept it. You proved you were worthy of wearing those robes...and assuming the responsibilities that come with them. It's a hard life...to be an Assassin, and the Mentor carries the responsibilty of all the Assassins he leads with him at all times...but that weight has to be miniscule to the weight you already carry, Desmond."
His father's eyes glinted with tears again as he said quietly, "I'm proud of you, Desmond. I'm proud of the man you've become. God knows I didn't have anything to do with it, and that makes it all the more amazing...and humbling."
Desmond was silent a long moment, then clasped his father's hand in the age-old warrior's gesture...the clasp of equals.
"I accept, Dad. I'll lead the Assassins."
William smiled, nodding. "Happy birthday, Desmond."