A/N: I have no idea how much longer this will be :D Maybe this chapter, then another will be the end. I'm doing my best to not rush it… But the rest is basically fluff and filler and college life stuff. Hopefully it will be as enjoyable as the rest has been. Here is part 3!

Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed and I don't know shit about New York State. Dr. Winslow is my pitiful creation.


I Smell Weed

Since Desmond was too prideful to mooch off of Shaun until he figured out what he was going to do with his life, he kept his night job and studied when he could. He focused on what he enjoyed, which was mainly history and science. He still had trouble solidifying a career for himself, so he focused on learning as much as he could, and enjoying life while it lasted.

One of the biggest kicks he got out of college life was the look on Shaun's face when he saw Desmond sitting in the back of his Ancient Civilizations class.

And when he bolted out of there after the lecture the first day (because in Shaun's classes, the first day was always lecture), he chuckled at the text he got.

What the devil are you doing in my class?

He chuckled to himself as he answered. You should look at your class roster before class starts, professor.

Shaun answered back. We can't do this! I didn't think I had to tell you about this, but it's a really bad idea. I could get fired.

Desmond frowned. Was it really that big a deal? He really only wanted this class because the other professor was terrible… Come on, no one will find out. Unless you can't keep it in your pants during class, then everyone will see.

The reply was a little more startling. If you take my class, we can't be together. I am serious.

Desmond thought for a moment. Was he serious…? It was really hard to tell, especially through text. Maybe this was a dumb idea… Then he got a better idea.

Well then… What if we break up when we go to school, then get back together when we go home?=P

Shaun took a little longer to reply. Desmond shrugged, and grabbed his bike from the rack outside. He had made it past the library on the way to the road when he felt a vibration in his pocket.

You're an idiot. I don't want to see you today.

Desmond grinned. Good thing he didn't get off of work until midnight.


"You don't intend to drop it, do you?"

"Nope, you're a really interesting professor."

Shaun clenched his jaw, and Desmond threw his arms open in desperation. "Look, no one will find out, okay? And even if they do, they'll have no evidence to fire you with. I mean it's not like there's PDA all over the place they can use. The worst offence is my phone, and they can't look at that without a warrant. Can they get a warrant without any evidence? No." He folded his arms in defiance.

Shaun glared. "You are making this much more difficult than it needs to be,"

Desmond bit back, "Well, if you don't make a big deal out of it, no one will know."

Shaun clenched his jaw, then sighed in defeat. "Did you really have to pick my class?"

Desmond raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to take Winslow's class?"

Shaun frowned. "… No. Don't do that to yourself." He shuddered as Desmond pumped a fist in victory.


The semester went by without any problem, and Desmond ended up getting a B in Shaun's class. He was thoroughly punished at home when Shaun forced him to recite all the emperors of ancient Rome while doing terrible things to him. Well, not so terrible. Okay yes, terrible. Cruel. He only got about halfway down the list before he forgot and just begged to finish. Shaun just laughed.

In spring semester, Desmond took a Psychology class, Child Development. Why not? He sat on the sofa one late night/early morning finishing up an article analysis while Shaun graded yet more papers. "I know why I don't like kids."

Shaun raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know it was so."

Desmond motioned to his article. "They're evil! They have no sense of morality or empathy. They're innately selfish. I mean, it's not their fault, but it's a little much to deal with until they're old enough to not be little spawns of Satan." He sighed and collapsed against the back of the couch. "I have no idea how my parents dealt with me and didn't kill me."

"And you just realized this?"

Desmond nodded. "Never really thought about it. Now I know I could never have kids."

Shaun sniffed melodramatically. "This is why I love you. We'll never have kids."

Desmond jerked his head around in disbelief. "That's not the only reason."

"It's a big one. If you wanted to adopt some snot-nosed kid I might leave you."

Desmond threw a pillow at him and pouted. Shaun cackled at Desmond's face when he got him a baby pacifier for his twenty-third birthday.


The next semester, Desmond took a Humanities class that required him to go to three "cultural events". And he waited until the end of the semester to go to the last one, and was stuck with attending a last-minute concert. A Blues concert.

"Please remind me why I'm here, again?" Shaun cleaned his glasses as they waited in line to be admitted. It was freezing, and he was shivering in his pea coat. "I have much better things to do than accompany you to an event that you got yourself into."

Desmond rubbed his hands together for warmth. He wished he had a nice pair of gloves right about now… "Because you love me."

Shaun glared. "I hate Blues. There is no explanation necessary for this. Why Blues!?"

Desmond sighed painfully. "Because literally every other event going on this week was related to Christmas, and that doesn't count for the class."

"You do realize that I will inflict every bit of pain on you that I receive tonight."

"Yeah, I've had worse." Shaun looked at him incredulously. "What? Come on, it won't be that bad. They're good quality musicians, or they wouldn't be this popular."

"Rolling with the masses now, are we? I thought I taught you better."

"I taught myself better, thank you!" Desmond prodded his shoulder to emphasize his point. "If I wanna have the same tastes as the masses, then it's my decision."

"You can have those tastes in private, away from me."

Desmond kept at it. "Blues gave birth to American Jazz! Which lead to Rock music, just so you know—"

"Alright, I understand!" Shaun gave up, frustrated. How many arguments has Desmond won in the last ten conversations, ten? How in the world had that happened?

"I don't actually like Blues. I just don't hate it."

"Well, you've never been to a concert, have you?"

"Nope. Have you?"

"Never."

Desmond chuckled. "Don't judge until the night's over, then."

They got their seats later, in the higher half of the theatre. They found out that there would be an opening act of a rather well-known Blues singer first. She turned out to be more than a little overweight and questionably dressed, but her voice was strong and Desmond tried not to judge. And she had an amazing tenor saxophonist to back her up, so he focused on that. Shaun on the other hand looked like he might tear his eyeballs out. He had earplugs in because of the incredible noise, and Desmond rolled his eyes.

Once the opening act was over, the main guy came on with his band.

Desmond was frowning. It wasn't… terrible... But he didn't really want to listen to it, either. It was a monotonous drone of blues guitars and repetitive chord progressions, and he couldn't even understand what the guy was singing about. Needless to say, he wasn't having a good time.

Shaun looked positively miserable. He was polite enough to sit there and endure it, and not mess with his phone even though all the people around him were drunk and screaming. Desmond bit his lip and smiled apologetically.

Shaun glared back, then typed something on his phone. He showed it to Desmond, indicating that there was no way in hell he was going to yell over the screaming audience.

I smell weed.

Desmond frowned, and sniffed. He hadn't noticed before. Huh. He looked to Shaun and raised an eyebrow when he typed another message.

Bathroom break. Now.

Desmond gulped, and followed Shaun out of the hall to the bathroom. Luckily, no one had puked in there, yet.

Shaun pushed the door in and turned to face Desmond, immediately. "Do we seriously have to sit through this? You have your ticket stub, isn't that proof?"

Desmond shook his head. "Nah, I need the singer's signature. Gotta stay until the end."

"That's ridiculous. What happens if you can't get his signature? He's a busy man, you know. Gotta get to the after-concert party and get wasted, and all."

"Well it was either that or write a five-page essay about the whole thing, and I don't remember very much except for the saxophonist in the opening act."

"Would you rather write that, or endure this?"

Desmond deadpanned. "I have way too much work to bullshit an essay right now. Sorry."

Shaun groaned, and scrubbed his face with a hand as he paced slowly. He had to think of a way to survive the night. Not even the bathroom was safe from the booming and grinding of the theatre.

Desmond thought for a moment. "Well, we could just… wait here until it ends."

Shaun looked at him incredulously. "Here. In the bathroom."

Desmond nodded. "Yup. It's better than in the auditorium, right?"

"Not if I'm going to look like some bum who doesn't even want to be here!"

Desmond thought again. "What if we just get drunk?"

Shaun shook his head. "Driving, idiot."

"Oh, right… Well, we could have sex."

Shaun squinted.

Desmond shrugged. "It's an option. It would pass the time, and maybe distract us from the music—"

"And we would be one of those people who have sex in public places during events that they really shouldn't be attending if they're going to do that-! Jesus, Desmond, are you actually suggesting this?"

Desmond shrugged again. "Or we could just make out forever."

"Yeah, and if a poor bloke comes in to relieve himself he'll get an eyeful of men macking on each other. Brilliant plan, Desmond."

"Well, we can go in a stall?" Shaun just shook his head as he paced again. "Or we could just wait here, doing nothing. Your call."

Shaun frowned, incredulous. "You're actually suggesting this."

"Well, what else are we supposed to do? Just stand here until it's over? You look bored." He paused, and changed his tone. He inched towards the Brit. "And I have to make it up to you."

Shaun swallowed. Was he seriously trying to seduce him in a public bathroom? Only Desmond, ladies and gentlemen. And he was bloody succeeding.

Desmond pushed him back into a stall and claimed his lips, letting instincts take over—getting Shaun to forget everything else but him wasn't usually a problem.

Shaun managed a quip amidst Desmond's ministrations. "You do realize how filthy this bathroom is, yes?"

Desmond hummed against his neck. "Just like you, dirty Limey."

Shaun bit back, "Yank."

"Pom."

"Septic."

Desmond chuckled. "It's funny because we're in a bathroom."

"You're disgusting."

Desmond pinned the Brit's arms to the stall door and grinned evilly. "Only as disgusting as you like me to be."

Shaun sank back again at Desmond's tone. Somehow he had learned this, this thing that could make Shaun shut up. Shut up because all he wanted was to hear more of that voice. He let his head fall back against the stall, trying not to think about how many different kinds of bacteria were making their homes in his hair. He'd shower at home… a lovely idea right about now. He let out a moan as Desmond worked his bloody magic on seemingly every inch of his torso as the same time. His coat has grown much too hot, and he struggled to remove it before Desmond slid it off easily. He felt hands all over him—under his shirt, down his pants in the back, one pinning his arm back when he tried to use Desmond as an anchor… it was impossible. But the haze around his head didn't give a damn how it happened, because Desmond Miles was making out with him and grinding up against the front of his pants—

Desmond broke away suddenly, panting. Shaun frowned, annoyed. "What?"

Desmond shook his head. "This music is such a fucking turn off."

Shaun glared. "If you stop now, I will leave you here alone."

Desmond grinned, then dropped to his knees. He pitied any man who came into the bathroom during this last stretch of the concert.


A/N: The Blues concert actually happened to me, but for a different class. And there was no sexy time with Shaun Hastings. The noise and the weed were very real though. More music degree shenanigans 8l