4. Blood is thicker than wash water

The next day Desmond had slept till midday. Altair had been seemingly amused by this. He had fed Desmond, who didn't want to east anything, but was forced to eat the pancakes Altair had made him. As soon as Desmond was fully awake, Altair had explained the house rules. Desmond was allowed to go out as long as he informed Altair. Desmond was supposed to come back home until ten o'clock in the evening. Altair had said Desmond would have to sleep outside otherwise. The latter wasn't sure if it was meant as a joke, but he had no desire to test it out. And last but not least, Desmond was supposed to clean after himself.

Easy enough. Desmond had thought.

After that Altair explained that he had to go to college for the next week until he had holidays this meant Altair had to wake up soon in the day. After college he would work, but Desmond didn't ask where.

The next few days were rather uneventful. Altair was gone for most of the time, either in college or working shifts. Desmond however didn't mind, he spent most of his time in his little room and listening to music anyway.

Desmond felt uneasy about Altair. It was not as if Altair tried to force him into anything, except having breakfast that is, but he seemed strange. It was almost as if these golden eyes were penetrating his very soul, trying to find answers Desmond wasn't sure he was willing to give.

Altair had tried to get information out of Desmond. He had been doing it subtle and without any form of force, but he had tried. Desmond had to give the older male a little credit however, because as soon as Altair noticed Desmond's discomfort, he would stop his attempts and promptly change the subject.

Altair seemed to be curious by nature and there had been a time, when Desmond was too. He had learned his lessons however and when Altair had asked him one evening, if Desmond wanted to know anything about him, the younger male had just shaken his head and resumed eating. He felt Altair's calculating eyes for the rest of the meal and had promptly hid in his room.

Desmond was difficult. Altair had tried almost anything to get the boy to open up, but all his attempt had been in vain. He even offered the boy to ask any question he wanted, but Desmond had just refused and literally fled into his room when their dinner was over.

Why is he so afraid? I don't expect him to trust me so soon, nor do I want him to confess his deepest and darkest secrets to me, but I can't even ask the boy for his favourite colour, before he closes up. Altair thought after his latest failed attempt at starting a conversation with Desmond.

He looked over his shoulder at the hunched over form of the boy, who still refused to pull down his hood. Desmond was lazily typing on his phone, presumably with a friend of even with the social worker, whose name Altair had already forgotten again. Altair felt sorry for the boy. Something must have happened to him and Altair would bet all his possessions that it was not only the death of their mother. Something else had happened and Desmond had shut himself away as a consequence. Altair wondered, not for the first time since the boy was living with him, if he should take Desmond to a psychologist. He shook his head at the thought and returned his gaze to the dishes he was cleaning. Desmond wouldn't want to talk to Altair, his brother, why should he talk to a complete stranger? And Altair surely wouldn't force him to do it.

"Do you need help?" a quiet voice to his right asked and when Altair turned his head towards the source, Desmond was standing there, looking expectantly up at him.

"If you like, you can grab the rag and dry up." Altair answered.

Desmond nodded and they fell back into silence again.

"Jean is visiting today…" Desmond let the sentence trail off.

It took Altair a minute to remember that the social worker's name had been Jean.

"I thought the visit was supposed to be a surprise?" He raised an eyebrow

If Desmond wondered why Altair needed that much time to form a reply, he didn't comment on it: "She just wrote me… besides, it wouldn't be a very useful visit, if she stands before the door and nobody is home…"

"Good point. How long do you think she will stay?" Altair asked.

In truth he couldn't care less about the length of the social worker's visit, but this was the first real conversation he had had with the boy since Desmond's first evening here.

"It depends."

Altair almost sighed in annoyance at Desmond's cryptic answer: "Depends on what?"

"On you." He cleared his throat. "If you ask her about her hobbies, namely to make pottery and knitting, she will stay for the whole day; maybe even longer."

Altair snorted and shook his head in amusement. This Jean is a very strange woman indeed.

"Don't laugh, I'm serious! During my 'probation' she showed me every single thing she ever made." Altair looked at the teenager, who grimaced and Altair couldn't stop himself from chuckling.

Desmond gave him a look as if he was insane, but the mental image of this woman dragging a annoyed and uncomfortable teenager through her flat and showing him her creations was just to priceless.

Maybe I should introduce Malik to her? This idea didn't help Altair to gain his composure again, but at least it was very amusing.

When he finally settled himself again, Desmond was leaning against the counter, watching him closely.

"Sorry."

Altair didn't expect the little smile that graced Desmond's lips. "I hope you fall right into her trap, than I am going to laugh at you!"

"I will be careful."

Fate however, wanted to teach Altair a lesson, because the moment he was cleaning the sharp knife, the doorbell rang and he promptly cut himself. He cursed loudly and was about to lick the blood from his palm, when Desmond grabbed his sleeve.

"Don't, it will get infected when you don't clean it… wait here, I just go open the door."

Altair could only look dumbly at the retreating back of his young charge. Not a moment later, he heard a female voice and Desmond came back into the kitchen. He brought disinfectant with and bandages. Altair just let the teenager do his work, it was the first physical contact they had and if Desmond was willingly giving it, Altair wouldn't deny it.

"The good news is that you won't die," Altair snorted, but Desmond continued, "the bad news is that it is rather deep… and you're ruining your floor."

"I also ruined your hoodie." Altair commented when Desmond began his work.

Desmond looked down at himself with confusion. The hoodie spotted a few little streaks of Altair's blood, but Desmond just shrugged.

"If it were the white one and not the blue hoodie I would be more worried, besides, it's you who has to clean it."

"Joy!" Altair said sarcastically and for a moment he could swear, he saw Desmond smile.

I hope you like this chapter! I am not quite pleased with it...

please, tell me what you think and leave a comment! ^^