Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft

Meeting

Everything is big and loud and scary-scary-spooky-frightening, he just wants his mommy and daddy, as he stands there sniffling, rubbing his eyes with a small fist, looking at the faces of the people passing by. Connor wonders how his parents could just leave him here? Did they forget him, not want him? He just wants to feel his mommy's kisses and his daddy's strong arms holding him tight, and his parents whispering they'll never-ever-not-in-a-million-years let him go again. "Are you lost?" a green-eyed girl says, standing before him.

Connor stares at her, blinking tears out from his amber eyes. "Uh-huh." He nods. He remembers his daddy telling him not to talk to strangers, but she's a girl, bit taller than him. She must be a big kid and big kids know things that he doesn't. "H-Have you seen my mommy and daddy?" he asks.

"No," the girl says, shaking her head. She wears braids like his mommy but lots of them, with red ribbons woven in. He thinks they are pretty. "I can take you to where you can find your mommy and daddy though."

"Really?" he asks, hope burning in his small chest. She smiles, warm and kind, and holds out her hand. Connor grasps it, and allows her to take him through the sea of people. Nobody notices them, this taller girl and smaller boy. "Where's your mommy and daddy?" he asks, wondering why she's alone too.

"I'm lost too," she says, "but I know how to find our parents." They weave through the crowd, there are so many people and he's scared, squeezing the girl's hand tightly. She smiles at him, green eyes bright with warmth, and continues boldly through the sea of humanity. Connor thinks she's brave and pretty just like his mommy, he feels safe with her like he does when he's with his daddy.

They near a wooden counter, with an official looking person is talking to two people. Connor squeaks recognizing them. He lets go of the girl's hands, sprinting hurry-hurry-hurry-quickly-now towards his parents. "Ista! Raké:ni!" Connor shouts, tears — when did he start crying? — sting the corners of his eyes.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton! Connor!" his parents shout and he barrels into his daddy's arms, clinging tightly to him. He feels his mommy's hand on his back and his daddy's familiar cologne tickles his nose. He doesn't really hear his parents chiding him about wandering off, he looks down and notices that the girl has found her own parents. She turns, as if sensing he was looking for her, smiles and waves goodbye-see-again-one-day-goodbye to him. Connor waves to her and rests his head against his daddy's shoulder, tiny arms slipping around his daddy's neck, clinging to him monkey-tight.

Glances

The school is strange and confusing and not Toto-we're-not-in-Kansas-anymore New Orleans. Aveline wants to be back in the bayou, where gators eye you from the murky waters and cicadas buzz in the trees. Boston is cold and grey and immovable no-life-no-green-no-blanket-of-heat. Then she sees him.

It took a moment for her to realize who he is, but Aveline is sure-as-hell-never-forget-that it's him. The boy she met at the mall years and years ago. He's standing on the edge hanging back from the crowd, quiet and observing and she can't help but be drawn to him like a moth to the flame quiet-heart-stop-beating-so-loud! Aveline is frozen-deer-caught-in-the headlights unable to move, and she watches his gaze fall on her and time slows down just-like-it-does-in-those-movies and his eyes widen in recognition.

Aveline ducks into her classroom then. She can't-can't-can't-not-yet-too-soon-too-fast deal with it just yet. She wants to scream and rage and flail against it all. The bell rings and he walks in, nodding to whatever his friend is saying. She steals a glance at him. He doesn't notice and she grins. She steals glances at him for the rest of the school year.

Snowflakes

There's no starlight in Boston. Only cold harsh street lights, and snowflakes drifting down-down-deeper-down into the white frozen landscape. Aveline hate-hate-hate-hates it and wishes for the warmth of the sun to return to the world.

She's sitting out here in this cold frozen city, without a job she-just-got-fired-great. She sips at the beer she swiped, wondering what she should do now. Her apartment is cold and friendless; she wants to avoid the-all-consuming-loneliness-careful-don't-let-it-swallow-you it. She pulls her fluffy coat around her and shivers, breath coming out in little white puffs. A snowflake lands on her nose.

"Are you okay?" a voice asks. Aveline looks up and nearly drops the beer in her hand, it tasted like horse-piss anyway. It's him, the boy from the mall… wait, boy? No, he's a man. A tall man with broad shoulders, strong hands and kind-gentle-stop-beating-so-fast-heart!-beautiful eyes.

"I'm fine," Aveline says, picking up her beer, the glass cold to her touched. She doesn't want it anymore.

"Are you sure?" He sits down next to her, eyeing the scuzzy looking men that pass by. She can't help by smile, spooking the undesirables away. "Can I walk you home?"

Aveline feels her cheeks turn pink. Chivalry is dead isn't it? "It's okay, I can find my way back."

"I insist," he says, those hypnotic-I-told-you-to-stop-beating-so-fast-heart-amber eyes of his bore holes into her and she has to, no must! look away for fear of drowning into those golden pools. She doesn't and finds herself drowning-deep-deep-deeper into his beautiful eyes.

"Alright," she says, caving. He smiles and her heart skips a beat at the sight. He has a beautiful smile and it seems to melt the icy grip that holds Boston hostage. They stand together and she tosses the beer into the trash. They walk side by side down the street through the ankle deep snow. The conversation is slow at first but as each block melts away, it becomes more animated, wild gesticulations and ripples of joyous laughter.

Aveline scowls at her apartment door when they reach it. She wants it to go away, since it means that she must say goodbye to this boy-no-he's-a-man-now that she's had a crush on since high school. "So… uh, I better go," he says, awkwardly. She notices that he looks at his feet, and agrees that anything other than him is much more interesting at the moment, right?

She touches his arm, light and hesitant, quickly drawing it away. "Thank you,' she says, smiling at him. "For walking me home."

"My parents raised me to be a gentleman," he says, a quirky smile on his lips. "I'm Connor by the way."

"Aveline," she replies, leaning against the doorframe and wondering what it would feel like to be wrapped up in his big strong arms. Impulsively she pulls out a pen, she always has a pen on her like a good journalist should, grabs his hand and scribbles her number on his palm. "Call me," she says and opens her door and slips in.

Kisses

He did call her. They talked for hours and hours until both their phones died but that's why they have chargers and talked for hours more. Aveline never thought they had so much in common but they do and she loves it and oh-god-oh-god she wants to see him again.

Patience notices her bubbly mood and smiles knowingly, but Aveline ignores those smiles and those looks her roommate shoots her way, especially on the day of their first date.

Is awkward and embarrassing and Aveline wonders what ever did she see in him. Yet, she realizes that despite the fact Connor is awkward around women, he has a good heart and wants only to see her smile so she forgives him and doesn't try to steal a kiss when he walks her home again.

They go out again, it's still awkward, but he's less clumsy this time, and actually leans in for a kiss before he decides against it, mumbling an apology. She wants to smack him and kiss him at the same time god-man-can't-you-get-it, but she tells him it's okay and bids him good night. It's not until the eighth date that he finally kisses her.

Actually, she kisses him because this glass wall was getting to be the elephant in the room and she hates glass walls, so she grabs him and plants one on his lips, which still taste like the red wine they had at dinner with lingering notes of the ice cream they ate on the walk home. She pulls away to stare into his eyes, his large warm hands around hers, and they just stand there as if time froze because Connor just got his first kiss. She's counting heartbeats and before she gets to three he leans in, figuring it out he's a quick learner, and this time it's longer with some tongue surprise, surprise. "Night," he whispers, soft and sultry; his breath is warm against her face and Aveline has memories of the deep bayou in New Orleans and she smiles. He leaves her standing, bereft of his presents in the hall.

She returns to her apartment and tiptoes into her room, not that it's needed a rock concert could have happened and Patience would sleep through it. She curls up in her bed and squeezes her pillow tight, squealing into the mattress like a small girl.

Starlight

Aveline is only half listening to what Connor is saying as they lay in the field. It's the middle of July, the air smells of the sweet grass and crickets chirp and it's still humid in the middle of the night. They are laying on a blanket, stargazing because it was Connor's idea and she never did it before and he's full of stories his mother's mother told him about that half-remembered time before the Europeans came to these shores.

The stars are bright, and Aveline points to Milky Way and asks if the Mohawks had a story about that. "Oh yes, it's a good story," Connor says and launches in to it. He tells it slowly, Aveline wonders if he only ever heard it in Mohawk and must translate it into English in order to tell her it.

"That's sad," she says when he finishes it. She rolls onto her side and looks at him. She traces patterns on his bare chest, he had forgone his shirt. He shivers even though both know it's not cold at all. He cups her cheek and strokes it with his thumb. She smiles at him and smiles in return. She's convince it's his best feature and gets butterflies whenever he smiles at her because she knows those are his secret-smiles-meant-only for her.

"I don't think so; I think it's a powerful tale. They still love each other, even if they are separated," Connor says, and sits up slightly. "Red strings of fate can't be broke so easily, Aveline," he whispers, his voice soft and husky and Aveline can't help but shiver and lean in close to him.

They kiss. It lights a fire in her belly that has been smoldering for a terribly-oh-god-has-it-been-so-long time now. His strong hands pull her into his lap and she breaks the kiss to press her lips against his cheeks and nose and chin before finding his lips again. She nips his lips, and thrusts her tongue in and he lets her, maybe he's just has hungry for this as she is.

This is hardly their first time, Connor is shy but not that shy and he had gotten the hang of this activity rather quickly, he's a quick learner after all. "Connor," she whispers, and tilts her head back for him to kiss her throat, his hands beneath her shirt and she moans.

The night seems to get cooler yet his kisses sear her skin and she grins her hips against his and he bucks. She giggles an impish-devilish-Aphrodite glint in her eyes, and kisses his throat, nipping so all will know that he is hers.

Little by little, her clothes are removed and his lisp find each new tantalizing bit of skin and sears her flesh with his touches and kisses and oh-gods-oh-gods that fire in her belly in a roaring blaze now. She wants him and pulls him close, hoping to drown with him in that pit of sinful desire. They move in harmony, the summer breeze cool against their skin, and she mutters his name in his ear, yipping with each roll of his hips.

It crescendos to a climatic finish and Aveline swears the stars are brighter and if there's a heaven on earth it's here with him and please-please-please let this moment last forever. They lay beneath the stars, panting and holding each other close. "Let's hope it doesn't start to rain," Connor mumbles, Aveline wonders if he's joking or not.

She kisses his nose before whispering, "don't jinx it Connor."

And…. That's it.

I always seem to fail epically at Connorline. Grrrr! This is frustrating! And I had such a good idea too and it started out so nice too and gaaaah! I will write a spectacular Connorline piece one day! Just you wait! If I have to make my fingers bleed I will!

Also, I really hate begging for reviews! It's not that hard, yes I'm looking at you followers that read but don't review! I just assume you don't like my stories when you don't review. It takes twenty seconds to string some words together to make a couple of sentences telling me what your thoughts are. Ramble if you must! I don't care! Just tell me, leave me bloody damn feedback!

Save an author; leave a review!

Seriously!

-Nemo