Summary: Based on this a prompt from the Dreamwidth asscreedkinkmene where Charles misreads Connor's obsession with trying to find him and now Connor has to deal with Charles feelings.

Note: I have never written crack before so I hope this is okay! This is pure silliness (I hope) and really not to be taken seriously, timeline: what timeline? The lords a-leaping are cuckoos and are the birds of misrule. So you can say, I took misrule and used 'misinterpretation'?

On the Tenth Day of Christmas my true love sent to me…

…10 Lords a Leaping

Obsession

How it Begins

Charles counted to ten ere he eased out from his hidden position. He was on a roof of all places, far too high for Charles' liking, nestled in a small space between two adjoining walls. Haytham had discovered it and showed Charles 'just in case'.

It had paid off just now as he ran from a pesky assassin, though Charles never thought he would be running from Haytham's son.

Peering extremely cautiously down into the alley Charles saw a marvellous sight:

Connor was racing up and down the alley, dodging around the same people that had aided Charles in losing Connor's pursuit and stopping every other one demanding "Where is Lee?"

Another favourite appeared to be: "Do you know this man?!" and waving a paper (sketch? mused Charles) in the alarmed person's face.

"I must find him!"

Charles was stunned at the amount of desperation in Connor's voice. Did he really mean that much to the assassin? But why? Curious, Charles leaned over more, ensuring he made no sound or dislodged any loose leaves.

Connor had slowed and was furiously turning in a circle until he cried "Give me Lee!"

Frustration and plea all bound into one. Falling back Charles was left stunned…Connor wanted…him…

That had to be it surely? What other reason could there be? The Assassin seemed to be utterly devastated that he had lost Charles and left, looking rather like a kicked dog. Sympathy bloomed in Charles and he rubbed his chest.

It felt strange to be wanted so badly that Connor was actually hurt when he couldn't have Charles. Intrigued and struggling with the new emotions swirling inside, Charles waited for Connor to leave and then clambered down.

He made his way back to his Templar brothers slowly, avoiding detection and once there he causally made inquiries into one Connor.

Thankfully, it wasn't hard…after all, how many Native Americans were running around New York?

That evening, as Charles surveyed his report he was struck with the realisation that Connor had been tracking him for months and was so obsessed he asked for Charles everywhere.

A warm sensation pooled in Charles' belly and he rubbed a hand nervously across his beard. The knowledge someone was obsessed with him, desired him so much that he spent all his time in tracing him was foreign.

Charles was used to obsessing over others; well to be honest just Haytham, but such emotions had never been returned.

Charles stood and poured a drink, the liquid reassuring. Charles couldn't shake off that pleasant feeling of being wanted, especially after such a long time and a sudden gratefulness welled within.

He had to pay Connor back, show how much he appreciated the lad in doing this and, Charles lowered the glass, shivering slightly, prove that his own feelings were growing and could be cultivated.

Mind made up, Charles began planning how he could show Connor his sentiments were returned, if not wholly like his own yet.

At Washington's Camp

Connor walked away from Washington's tent, frustrated that his warnings against Lee were not taken seriously. He might have to reveal the true nature of the forces at work against Washington and…

Connor froze. He had just entered the tent that the Commander-in-Chief had given him to discover his bed was full of…

"Weapons?"

Glancing around Connor searched his quarters, nothing moved and no other item seemed out of place. Whoever had been here was gone now. Warily Connor edged to his bed and stared in disbelief at the array of dangerous instruments.

Daggers; a couple of swords, one an old fashioned broadsword the other a sabre; an actual bow with a finely sewn quiver and deadly looking arrows; there were even a couple of pistols.

Gaping Connor selected a dagger and was impressed by the sharpness of the blade. The bow was beautiful even though it wasn't in the style Connor preferred. What was going on? Who would do this? Connor could only presume Washington would, but why?

Then he noticed the folded note, tucked under his pillow so only the corner protruded and Connor snatched it.

May these weapons bring you a fine aim and grant you what you want.

Yours,

Charles Lee

This had to be a sick joke. Why would Charles Lee be giving him presents to kill him with?

The man was mad. Crumpling the note Connor turned and sped from his tent and surveyed the camp-site. Nothing, no Lee unless…was that him on the horse riding out?

"Lee!" Connor yelled, but was prevented from bolting after the General by a hand on his arm. He looked into Washington's face, he bore a serious demeanour. "I must ask that you do not chase my General, Connor. I understand you have differences, but I need to be sure and I also require him to take control of a situation. He can hardly do that if you're chasing him now?"

Connor was speechless, more-so at Lee's causal wave. Then Lee was riding away and his chance evaporated. Connor read the note again; it had to be Templar trick that's what, nothing else.

The Inn

Two days later warm air enveloped Connor and he sighed. It was pleasing to be out of the cold, autumn had ended fast and winter was biting already. Shaking off a few snow flurries Connor quickly grabbed a seat and ordered a hot meal.

Shovelling food down Connor knew he would have to rest a couple of hours then go to his father. He had promised to work with the man in the hope that his father might still be saved.

As he ate he heard a voice he knew. Hardly believing his fortune Connor raised his eyes and witnessed Charles Lee sitting only a few tables away eating with John Pitcairn if he wasn't mistaken.

Good, he could finish this now.

Reaching silently for his dagger in case his hidden blade failed, he couldn't bear to lose this opportunity, Connor was about to stand when Lee looked over and caught his gaze. For some reason the man blushed and then actually rose. Connor thought he might come over, but instead Lee approached the bar.

There was some discussion with the maid there who nodded and Lee retreated and smiled at him. Connor recalled the presents of two days ago and considered the possibility that Lee was mad as delicately hinted at by Washington upon Connor's quite reasonable complaints.

A throat clearing made Connor break contact, thankfully before Pitcairn noticed their antics and he turned to the maid. The young girl smiled shyly at him and murmured, "A tea sir and oh, the gentleman over there has paid for your meal, said that you were an old friend and he had to pay respects to that."

Connor was sure he had heard wrong and repeated, "Friend?"

The maid's confusion at his harshness was evident, "Y,yes sir."

Connor realised he was frightening her and nodded. Examining his drink suspiciously Connor glanced up and saw Lee flicking nervous glances over, red cheeks obvious.

Connor felt for his dagger, this had to be an elaborate trick. He would go over there and-

"Son." Connor broke eye contact and looked up at his father who was frowning. "Finish eating so we may continue."

"You said two hours father."

"Times change. Eat."

As Haytham arranged his cloak Connor ignored Lee, the man was clearly trying to bait him, there couldn't be any alternative explanation.

Working Together

Five days after the inn found the Templar brethren gathered in an underground safe-location.

"I expect you to work cohesively and without any arguments, do you understand?" His father's voice was cold and commanding.

Connor nodded reluctantly, unfortunately his father was correct. The mission was too important to waste on petty rivalries or revenge. He looked at Lee, his revenge would have to wait for later.

Lee meanwhile agreed wholeheartedly. Connor wasn't sure what was worse, spending time with Lee or spending time with Lee and his father. Only so much hero-worship a man could take witnessing.

As it was, Connor found himself alone with Lee, his father glaring at him to behave and darting a fast nod at Lee.

The minute they were alone, Lee stepped closer, so close Connor could feel Lee's heat. He reeked of his dogs unfortunately and Connor gritted his teeth. Lee's eyes were very blue this close and Connor felt a chill, they were full of adoration.

Lee knew he wasn't Haytham right?

"Lee?" His voice cracked a little and Connor endured a fresh surge of annoyance at Lee.

Lee however, just smiled happily as if name being said by the man who wanted to kill him was a gift. "Yes Connor?"

"Are you well?" Connor had to ask, Lee's eyes were shining and he was trembling.

"Indeed I am. Thank you for inquiring," Lee had a ridiculously pleased smile on his face.

This was peculiar and Connor felt as if he had been left with an unpredictable animal, a cat perhaps, which after purring at you might claw you once it's had enough.

"Then let's start the mission."

Lee grinned and fell into contented pace. Connor stole glances at Lee because this was beyond strange. Lee was acting as if they were friends and not noticing Connor's wary reactions, rather he appeared to interpret all of it as a sign of friendship.

It was only once they had succeeded in bypassing the sentinels at the post and had retrieved the paperwork that Connor knew without a doubt that Lee was either a madman or a genius in mental torture.

They had ran around the side of a nearby barn and were catching breath when Lee straightened and scrutinised him. He seemed appalled by what he saw for he again stepped close and raised his hands. Connor tensed, flexing his wrist to release the hidden blade.

Gently, Lee's hands corrected his askew garments and with love brushed off bits of dirt. "There, that's much better, isn't it Connor?"

Lee's eyes were wide and hopeful, almost bursting with pride as if his actions displayed some twisted show of care and attention to a family member or one of his pet dogs.

Connor was struck again speechless, Lee was possessed he had to be. Or maybe he was a skinwalker?

Just as Lee's smile began to fade into worry and Connor was attempting to think of something to say his father for once interfered at the right moment. "Charles! Connor!"

Connor immediately responded, pushing past a disappointed (what on earth?) Lee. Fathers were apparently useful for some things.

Bed-time

Ten days after he had first pursued Lee into an alley and had been experiencing strange events ever since, Connor was weary. The day had been long and arduous, filled with assisting those damn Templars. He was growing tired of this treaty and of Lee's frankly alarming behaviour.

Entering his room in his father's house, Connor was about to undress when he realised his bed was occupied.

Not by weapons no.

Charles Lee was lying in bed, covers drawn up.

He smiled slowly and sensually. fear clutched Connor's heart.

"Hello Connor," the man purred, eye half closed, "Allow me to assist."

"What are you doing in my bed Lee?"

Lee licked his lips, "Charles, Connor, you may call me Charles. And I'm here to show you how I appreciate your obsession with me. It's nice being noticed and I did trying showing you earlier, but my efforts I believe went astray."

Lee stretched, the cover sliding down to reveal a naked chest. "So, here I am, for your pleasure."

Connor wanted very much to collapse, because it all made sense, horrible, stunning sense.

Lee had mistaken his obsession with finding him to exact revenge as having a fondness for him…a desire for his person. Connor might be sick and staring at Lee, he noticed how clean Lee looked, hair not greasy, moustache and beard trimmed and groomed.

Damn, it was all true. Connor licked his lips, dry as his mouth was and knew he had to act. As if following his thoughts Lee flushed and shifted in his bed.

"Am I displeasing? How would you prefer me?"

Connor choked. Lee's mad. The Commander-in-Chief warned me. I should have listened.

He studied Lee's bewildered posture and shuddered, I can't kill someone so obviously deranged.

He had to answer and end this now. "Stay there Lee. Wait, put some clothes on." Lee was confused and hurt.

"Why?"

Connor thought fast, "Because I want to take you somewhere."

Lee smiled and Connor looked away as Lee slipped out and began dressing. He would take Lee to his father, the man was always defending Lee to Connor, and well he could defend Lee by stopping this madness and protecting the bastard from himself.

Grabbing a mercifully attired Lee, Connor pulled Lee out of his room and down the corridor, trying to be soothing and hoping his father didn't blame him for this mess.

Extra

(Takes place before 'Bed-Time)

Charles paced, nothing he did worked on Connor. Were his methods too subtle? Or did they injure his Native sensibilities?

Striding past the mirror in his room Charles paused at sight of his reflection. He saw his greasy complexion and messy clothes and sniffing Charles flushed. He probably smelt of dog.

He didn't mind but perhaps Connor did. He ought to clean…

That's it! Charles grinned hugely at his reflection, he would wash and present himself to Connor. The warrior would know then that Charles was willing and appreciative of his longing through personal maintenance.

Charles went in search of a razor and soap.

Soon Connor would understand. Soon.