Efflorescent Feelings
Chapter 7


Malik was awoken by the feeling of being prodded. He groaned and pushed the doctors cold hands, being scolded almost immediately by the swift smack of his hands. He noticed his assassin in the corner, looking over at the doctor, concerned for Malik as the man checked him over.

"Altaïr, I need to speak with you later," Malik stated, watching as his amber eyes hit his own and gave a curt nod. It was now or never, he needed to admit his feelings for the other, whether he was ready or not. The imprisonment taught him that, he didn't know when he'd have another chance, especially with the man going on a head hunt for Malon Al Damon later on.

"WILL YOU-"

Malik nearly punched the doctor, who wiped at his arm, making it sting, "Calm down, brother. It will not get better if we do not treat it," the doctor scolded, watching as Malik scowled and looked to the side, making the assassin watching him smile and cover his mouth to hide his amusement.

Altaïr hated to admit it, but the way Malik hated doctors reminded him much of a child. He cringed at the mention of doctors, and refused to go and see them even if he was sick and it would make him feel better. He looked up hearing the Dai huff, the doctor gathering his things.

"You are very lucky that you only had a few minor infections. The herbs will make them heal faster, but you will be feeling uncomfortable for a week or two at least."

"Thank you, doctor," Altaïr thanked, leading him out of the bureau. Once he returned, he placed the extra bandages and herbs on the table. "You wanted to speak to me? Or did you want to wait until I returned with Malon Al Damon's blood?" he asked while twirling a feather with his fingers.

"Do you have a plan on killing him?" Malik asked, watching the feather, his heart pounding in his chest.

Altaïr shrugged and sat at the foot of his bed, "I am going to do a bit of listening and information finding, find where he will be, if there's going to be an event that he is attending. I'm going to have to pay attention to every detail since he will no doubt be on high alert because of last night."

Malik hesitated, and let out a soft sigh, "Maybe it would be best if you held off for a while. At least till he isn't aware... of any more danger..." The Dai cursed himself for his lack of words. He didn't know what he was trying to say, and he knew Altaïr was not stupid, and knew he was wondering what he was rambling about by the raise of his brow.

Malik took in a breath, then slowly let it out, slowly looking to the curious assassin. "This is not easy for me to say, and I ask you to please not laugh at me, and take me serious..."

"I promise, brother. I will not laugh, and I promise I will take what you say serious-"

"Altaïr, I love you."

Altaïr blinked and raised a brow again, "I love you, too, brother. I would give my life to save yours."

"No, you do not understand. I love you. Not like a brother, like a...love...er." The dumbfounded expression on Altaïr's face scared Malik. He didn't know how to take it. He knew he shouldn't of said anything. That kind of love was forbidden, after all. And hadn't he been one to scold the other for his way of life? Why would he go back on what he had been following so diligently? "Never mind, I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, Malik... I'm glad you did."

"Why?" Malik asked scrunching his nose slightly. Altaïr shook his head, leaning forward, placing his hand on Malik's cheer, tenderly. The Dai's expression softened, and he stared into the assassin's eyes, confused as Altaïr's lips touched Malik's. Before he had any time to be confused, his hand pressed against the other's chest, pressing his lips upward rougher than intended. The assassin let out a soft growl, making the Dai blush slightly, slowly reaching around his neck with his one arm, to grab onto his hair.

Despite Altaïr having short hair, it had been a fantasy of Malik's to grab onto his hair, and let his fingers run through it. He felt his hands snake around his waist and pressed himself against him. He was reluctant, but pulled back, gasping for air, Altaïr pressing his face against the other's neck, holding him close. They sat there a moment silent, till the assassin moved, looking down at Malik.

"I should... probably head out..." he whispered against his lips. Malik could only muster a small nod before closing his eyes, feeling the taller man move away and stand. He opened his eyes to see the other man staring at him from the doorway. He opened his mouth to say something, then quickly shut it and turned rushing out of the room.

The Dai was confused. It was obvious that Altaïr had feelings for him, or he would not have made such a move. Least, he didn't think the man would do something as so cruel as to play with ones mind as such. He let himself lay back, wincing slightly from his wounds on his back, and closed his eyes letting his mind drift off to hope as he wished that they could be more than just brothers in the creed. The thought also scared him, due to the fact that it usually meant death to those who practiced such a love in their culture. What if the other was scared of that very thing? He didn't have a clue, and it bugged him. He scowled at not really being able to get up and move around. If he did, he knew he'd regret it due to pain and possibly agitating his wounds, so he stuck to being tortured in his bed. 'At least I have a bed,' he thought to himself, hugging his one arm over his chest and letting his eyes close. 'Might as well try and sleep.'


Altaïr, despite his composer as he walked carefully through the crowds, was even more in a fit than the Dai was about the kiss. Why did he respond in such a way? Did he love playing with fate so much as to play with the possibility of being stoned to death as well? He scowled, watching as a man next to him jumped as his slight growl and moved away from him as fast as his stump legs would take him. It was best for him to just stop thinking, and keep moving to find a way to kill both Malon Al Damon, and Al Mualim. Malon was the top priority. He was the original target, the one that captured Malik, the one who hurtMalik.

He stopped in the road, making a man with a box run into him and curse. He quickly said he was sorry, then scurried out of the road and into an alleyway. It was then that it hit him. People were in the streets? He was so use to crowded streets in Acre, Damascus and Masyaf that he hadn't put any thought to them walking about. But this was Jerusalem, home of his target Malon Al Damon. The man who took the marketplaces off the streets, and made people scared to leave their homes. Why now was there people out and about? The assassin turned and rushed back out of the alley, looking at the groups of people. They were different. They seemed happy. Men and women, all smiling and walking to the north.

Confused, Altaïr slowly walked through the crowds, careful to stay away from the conversing groups as he listened in to as many conversations as he could.

"This is a marvelous day, Marya, we can finally live in peace as we once did, able to buy the food we need," he heard an older man telling his daughter, who skipped next to him merrily.

"I wonder if Malon Al Damon has gone mad? Why now after all these years, is he giving us, the people, what we need. It's as if he grew a heart in that empty hole in his chest!" a woman exclaimed to a group of three other people, who nodded in agreement.

Malon Al Damon was letting the people have their marketplace again? What was the mad man thinking? He swiftly moved from the people, scaling a wall upwards, then racing over the top of the roof, jumping over the small alleyway to the opposing roof, and rushing to where the market was. He skidded to a halt and stared down at the hustle of people haggling and conversing to shop owners. He blinked, and noticed a member of the brotherhood that he recognized, looking in on the people down below much like himself. He carefully rushed over to where he was and climbed down, plopping next to him, earning a nod of the head.

"Hello, Altaïr. Curious isn't it? A man so ruthless, so evil, turned compassionate and loving of his people overnight."

"Curious indeed, brother. Do you know anything of this?"

"I heard tales. Talk isn't cheap though, I would need you to do something for me in return for this information."

"Anything."

"There's a man named Tendan L'ahad south of here," the man pulled out a scroll from his pocket and handed it to Altaïr, who opened it and studied the face of the man sketched skillfully on the parchment. "He took something very important to me. A letter from my beloved. I need you to steal it back for me. But I plan to leave the city, and head to Damascus before noon, so I need it before then."

"Done, I will retrieve it immediately."

Before the other man had a chance to wish him luck, he scaled the wall upward, rushing in the direction he pointed to him, scanning the streets for him. It didn't take him long to find him, his strange walk made anyone want to give him a second glance as he swung his arms at his sides very ape-like. Altaïr jumped down from the roof into an alleyway, then rushed behind the man, observing him for a moment before reaching out and snatching the piece of paper sticking out of his pocket. He backed away, taking a look at the parchment, then turned his back to the man and rushed back to his fellow assassin.

Upon handing him the letter, the man smiled and tucked it away, looking up to Altaïr, "The guards have been stating that Malon Al Damon seems to be controlled. He locks himself away, and when he emerges he staggers mindlessly, and doesn't seem to have a thought in his mind. He never acknowledges the guards, and takes to only speaking to one man, a man in a black cloak. He addresses the people, but never speaks one on one with anyone except that man."

"Thank you brother, this has been most helpful."

The assassin nodded his head, then took his leave, leaving Altaïr with his thoughts as he stood, his hand on his chin. He needed to discuss this with Malik. Maybe he had some idea of what was going on.

He weaved through the crowd, heading towards the Bureau, and broke out into a run once the area was cleared. He sprinted up the wall, and jumped down into the bureau, rushing into Malik's room. Upon barging in as such, Malik sat up, his eyes concerned.

"Malon Al Damon has given the people their city back. They say that he seems to be controlled, that he only speaks to a man in a black cloak, and is seen staggering instead of walking."

"Al Mualim... He must be using the Apple of Eden to control Al Damon. He's trying to win the people over by controlling the man they hate and give them what they desire. To what his purpose is, I do not know. Altaïr, you shouldn't waste your time on Al Damon. Take out Al Mualim. I don't know what is is planning, but whatever it is, I do not like it."

"The Apple?" Altaïr asked, tilting his head to the side, walking closer to Malik, avoiding the random thought of 'Has Malik always looked that cute when he's thinking?' that passed his mind.

"Yes... The object I had obtained from Solomon's Temple those many years ago. I'm not surprised that Al Mualim hadn't allowed you to know about it. I did a bit of research after I was put in charge of the bureau. And honestly, I wish I returned to Masyaf with my tail between my legs than have brought it back. It is said to be able to control a person, take over their will and what they are able to do and say. It's a terrible object, and in the wrong hands, like Al Mualim, the end result could be catastrophic."

Altaïr nodded his head and lowered his head, hiding his face from view with his hood. Where exactly would Al Mualim be hiding? Inside the tower, no doubt, but it was impossible to predict exactly where. When he was rescuing the Dai from it he had seen how big it really was, in both height and in underground passages.

"Altaïr?"

The assassin looked up, looking to Malik, who had a brow raised. "Hm?"

"Do you have a plan?" He hesitated then shook his head, slowly. "Why not take a break. You haven't rested. It will give us time to come up with a proper plan, and since I do not see Al Mualim breaking his friendly act anytime soon, it gives us time."

Altaïr was hesitant to agree, but didn't see any other option, so he nodded, lowering his head once more. Malik watched him for a moment then leaned forward, reaching out and grabbing his arm, making the assassin look at him confused. "Just lay down and rest," he said, his cold attitude coming out once more from the slight frustration he was feeling about the other man. The assassin blinked and nodded heading to the door to head back to his cushions. "Wait... I meant... here..." Malik corrected, lowering his gazed from Altaïr's confused look. When he dared to look up, he noticed the other blushing, and blinked confused. "Brother?"

Altaïr stood still for a moment, then stepped forward heading back to the bed. He was shy and hesitant, a side that Malik had not seen from him before, as he slowly got in the bed next to him, but not under the covers. He laid his head down on his arm, and closed his eyes, not saying a word. The Dai watched him, curiously, and lightly smiled laying back down and closing his eyes as well. It was comforting having the assassin so close to him, and allowed him to fall asleep quickly, something he hadn't been able to do since before his brother had died.

Altaïr listened to the sound of Malik's breathing, daring to open his eyes with his breath slowed, indicating that he was truly asleep. He observed Malik as his one had curled around his assassin's robes, not giving him an inch to leave, not that he wanted to. He slowly raised his hand and brushed it against Malik's cheek, enjoying the reaction he got of the Dai smiling leaning his head up against his hand.

"I'll never let them hurt you again, Malik. I swear on my life."


Review Responses:

Sophie Aiyana: I feel bad for Malik, Altaïr tortures him so with his lack of communication. Silly assassin, stop being so internal!

191026: I'd love to see that! I've been thinking of drawing something like that, but it all stays in my mind due to the fact that my hand has a mind of it's own and ends up drawing him shirtless xD

jackkeroauc: Glad you like it :)

Tom Riddle III: Don't worry, I am kind of the same, though I have beat it two or three times by now, every time I have replayed it in the past I have stopped and stumbled to a halt because of laziness xD

malik's girl: yeah it was :3 I love Toby Turner xD


Side Note:
Has anyone ever thought of making their pets wear assassin robes? My neighbors are a really loud bunch, and my friend and I were discussing having my cat go and assassinate them while they are partying. I promised my cat if he did so that I'd make him some assassin robes exactly like Altaïr's. I'm thinking of doing that anyway, just for the hell of it. What do you guys think? xD


Short 'N Fluffy:
Remember! If you want to see a pairing for a Short 'N Fluffy mini story just list the two characters, and what the setting will be (or an idea of what you want to see) and I'll work from there. Simply leave me a comment on DA, my email, or in a review!


Featuring: Doctor and Federico


Requested by: No one... Just something that came out of my imagination xD


Federico scowled as he left the house. Petruccio had made him promise to go see a doctor after he returned home with a gash in his shoulder. He was reluctant, only because he hated doctors. It wasn't the fact that they probed people's bodies or enjoyed a job so little people enjoyed, it was the mask. It was odd to him that someone would cover their face as such, and expect people to trust him.

As he rounded the corner, he thought of what he could say to the doctor about how he got the cut. Boys being boys and fighting? Yes, that would be believable, and more likely to happen then not. He approached the doctor, who was looking down at a jar with leeches in it, and lightly coughed.

"Welcome! Can I interest you in some medicine today?" he asked, then noticed the gash on his shoulder, clicking his tongue together to make a "tsk tsk" sound as he stepped forward and looked at his arm. "Signore Auditore, you being the oldest of your siblings, I would think you'd have a little more restraint than to go ahead and get into sword fights," he scolded, rolling up his sleeve.

"Signore... can I ask you to please remove your mask? It makes me... uncomfortable..." he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh..." He looked around for a moment, then nodded, gesturing him to follow. Curious, Federico followed him into the alleyway behind his cart. "I don't normally do this, but since you are one of my favorite customers..." he trailed off, removing his mask.

Federico was shocked, to say the least, to find a young man about the same age as him. "You're...so young," he noted, confused.

"Hah, yes. I hide my face since no one would trust a young doctor like myself. I trained under my father since I was five, and I am now twenty-four, so it's not like I do not know what I am doing..." he stated, holding his hands together, while still holding his mask with his pinky finger on his right hand.

"Well, as long as you get the job done," Federico stated, heading back out to the cart.

The doctor smiled, nodding his head as he slipped on his mask, following him out as he picked up his supplies to clean the wound. As Federico watched him, he couldn't help himself by feeling less scared about the man, and more interested about the young doctor. As he paid him and left, he found himself more reluctant to leave. Maybe he could find another reason to visit him soon? He walked back home, staring at the sky as it began to set. Maybe tomorrow he could fake sick and get him to remove his mask again? He smiled at the thought, nodding his head and stretching upward. He'd have to get up early to visit him in the morning.


Side note about this mini-story:
Should I make this into a one-shot? I rather like it, but I'm not sure if I should or not xD


Please review and let me know how you like it :)
Until next time~ :D