Desmond woke when something clicked. It wasn't a familiar sound he was used to, and was fairly loud. Loud enough to wake him at any rate. He grumbled and pulled one eye open with difficulty. He felt really sore all over and realized part of that was because Altair was sleeping on his shoulder, pinning his arm and making his shoulder numb. He could feel the bruise on his chest from last night under his collar bone, tender with Altair laying on it.

He blinked and wanted to roll over and go back to sleep but he couldn't. He currently had a heavy football player lying on top of him. Perfect. Also he felt like he had to do something. What was he supposed to be doing? He groped for his cellphone. He'd put it on the side table, plugged in, before falling asleep.

"Stop movin', sleepin'," Altair grumbled against his skin.

"Shut up," Desmond said and tried to wriggle from under him.

"Stop, movin'," and Altair slapped his hand on Desmond's arm, "Or I'll give you a hickey to explain to your dad."

"Fuck you," Desmond said, but lay still. That was something he didn't want though. Bill hadn't been thrilled about the big hickey from that time after the Bourbon and since then he'd told Altair no hickeys on his neck. He'd been pretty accommodating since then honestly.

Desmond lay there for a little while, staring at Altair's yellow ceiling, the morning light through the windows washing out the color of the walls. Judging by the brightness Desmond guessed it was sort of late. It was the weekend though, he wasn't worried about school. But why did he feel like he needed to be somewhere? He tried going for his cellphone again but Altair was awake enough to grab his wrist and make him stop.

"Can I at least check my phone?" Desmond demanded, cranky. He just wanted to look at the fucking time.

"No," Altair said obnoxiously.

"Yes," and he wiggled to get out from under Altair. Altair did his best to make sure he couldn't, including kissing him. Morning breath sucked, a lot, but so long as Altair didn't shove his tongue in Desmond's mouth it wouldn't be much of an issue. It, more than anything, stopped Desmond in his tracks and he lay still.

Apparently Altair was more awake than he thought too because he shifted and straddled Desmond's hips, keeping him pinned. Desmond just lay back and let himself be kissed. He deserved it damnit. Altair had been so annoying yesterday because now he couldn't avoid being around him. Aveline hung around her brother and she was friends with him so sometimes Altair was just... there. It was so frustrating. Friday Desmond and his friends went to the beach and Aveline and her friends decided to invite themselves. He had sand rash on his flank and ass from the rough housing. So Altair being sweet on him was deserved and appreciated.

With Altair distracted by kissing him and eventually moving down to kiss his neck and throat, Desmond managed to grab his phone. He groaned softly as Altair sucked on his neck and turned on his phone. It was nearly ten and his brain ticked.

"Shit!" he cried and sat up, throwing Altair off him.

"The fuck!" Altair demanded.

"Shit shit shit. I need to go," and Desmond scrambled out of bed to find his clothes. He made sure they were his clothes before yanking them on.

"What? Where are you going?" Altair asked, confused.

Desmond looked at Altair, he was sitting on the bed, naked, the sheets around his waist, his hair all lumpy from sleep and just looked so good. Altair licked his lips and fuck that was just unfair. Connor would understand right?

Shit no. Think with the head on your shoulders, not the one between your legs. He needed to go. "I'm supposed to meet Connor, oh," he looked at his phone for the time again, "fifteen minutes ago," he checked himself. Wallet, keys, phone, iPod, check. Jacket? Shit where had Altair thrown his fucking leather jacket? And where was his helmet? Shit how the hell did he even sleep so late?

"Over there," Altair pointed, sounding suddenly bored with him. Desmond looked and saw his jacket hanging off the chair at Altair's desk, his helmet was on the desk itself. He grabbed it and pulled it on, looking at Altair. Altair was laying on the bed, sheet still around his waist, one of his knees bent up to the ceiling, arms crossed over his chest. Desmond couldn't see his face but he looked positively irritated.

Desmond had no idea what Altair could be irritated about. This is what they always did when Desmond stayed over. Have sex, sleep, wake up and Desmond left. Sometimes Altair made him breakfast and he got to take a shower. But Altair never seemed to care. Now though. This time he seemed to care and was being moody about it.

Desmond stood there for a moment, holding his helmet, jacket on, Altair acted like he wasn't even there, like the first time after Ezio's party when he'd treated Desmond like an inconvenience. He made a face but realized he couldn't worry about this or Altair throwing a little temper tantrum like a five year old and not talking to him. He left when Altair grabbed his own phone off the side table. "Bye," Desmond said, Altair's eyes flicked up to him but he said nor did anything else and just called someone instead.

"Jerk," Desmond muttered once the bedroom door was between him and Altair and he heard Altair talking in loud, annoyed, Arabic. Probably to Malik. Whatever, he couldn't worry about Altair. As he headed for the front door he pulled out his phone again and called Connor's house.

"Hello?" Ziio picked up on the third ring.

"Hi Mrs. Kenway, this is Desmond."

"Desmond, hello. You know I've told you to call me Ziio."

"Sorry," Desmond said, "Is Connor there?"

"No, he went to go meet you. Is he not there?"

Desmond cursed a storm up in his head, "I'm running late. I was checking if he just went home."

"He isn't here. He left early so he wasn't late," and if Desmond didn't feel like a dick head now he definitely did.

"Okay. Thanks Ziio," and he hung up, outside now. He shoved his phone into a pocket on his jacket and jammed his helmet on, buckling it. He muttered hateful curses about Mr. Kenway who wouldn't get his son a cell phone, and got on his bike. He turned her on and she rumbled. He winced a little as the vibrations shuttered up his back. Okay, note to self do not do that position again in the future without fully stretching. He just sucked it up though and pushed his bike back so he could turn around and get the hell out of there.

Connor was still waiting for him when Desmond finally pulled up to him. The base had a lot of empty space at the bottom of the runway, perfect for what they were going to do. From here he could hear the ocean, lapping against the rocky shore, and above pilots were doing practice take offs and landings.

"I'm really really sorry," Desmond said after he'd turned his bike off and was taking off his helmet.

"It's okay," Connor said though Desmond could tell he was sort of jilted by Desmond being nearly half an hour late.

"No really. I'm really really sorry I'm so late. I slept in by accident," and the rest Connor didn't need to know, other than Clay no one else knew he was sleeping with Altair, and he wanted to keep it that way. "It won't happen again."

Connor frowned and then sighed, "Okay, I forgive you," Connor said.

"Great! Now," Desmond took off his jacket, having to tug his shirt back down when it rode up a bit, "you still wanna learn?" he asked. Connor nodded, "Okay, come over," Desmond beckoned and Connor went over to him. "So just sit on her for now, we'll work on getting her going and driving later," Connor awkwardly sat on the bike, getting on from the right, and wrong, side.

Desmond took the next half hour or so showing Connor all the knobs and gauges on his motorcycle. He taught Connor how to shift with his foot and how to get on and off the bike one without burning the shit out of his right leg and two without looking like a newborn deer. Connor listened intently the entire time and asked questions when he had them. Before Desmond knew he'd exhausted what he could say about riding a motorcycle without some real, practical lessons.

"How do you feel? Confident?" Desmond asked.

"I think I'll do okay," Connor said.

"Good. So start her up and just drive her in a straight line and brake. And you can't go too slow or she'll tip over. Effectively though it's like riding a bicycle."

"Okay," Connor nodded and leaned down to turn on the bike. Desmond shoved his helmet on Connor's ugly hair cut and clipped it in place. Connor swallowed and nodded again. He took his feet off the ground and put them on the footrests and gently turned down on the throttle. The bike rumbled and took off at a few miles per hour.

Connor drove to the end of the area they at and glided to a stop. "Wooo!" Desmond called after him and followed. "Good job," he patted Connor's helmet. "Now get off and I'll turn her around. Then you can do some turning and stuff."

"Okay," Connor said and put the kickstand down, seemed to think for a moment about how to get off the bike and hiked his leg over the left side.

Desmond sat quickly and drove in a circle back to Connor. "Okay, now just try and go in the circle," he pointed to the area they were in, which was a big circle of rock that had been cleared out for god who knew what.

"Okay," Connor said, much more confident this time. Desmond smiled as Connor drove off, going slow and kept pace just behind at a jog. Connor turned without mishap. Then Connor stopped again. "I do good?" Connor asked him when Desmond caught up with him.

"Yeah, you did great," Desmond said, grinning broadly. "So how do you like it?"

Connor sat on the bike a moment, looked thoughtful and then said, "How much do motorcycles cost?" and Desmond laughed. "No really. Maybe I can convince my mom to convince my dad to get me one."

"New ones are a few thousand. I got mine for a few hundred. But she's older and as a wreck when I got her. There's a pretty active bike community in the Keys though. You could probably find a cheap bike," and Connor tested the seat again. "I wanna get a nicer one at some point."

"But it's such a nice bike," Connor said.

"Yeah but there's no room for a passenger. That and I want a crotch rocket at some point."

"Why? Aren't they uncomfortable?" Connor asked and turned the bike off. Though motorcycles sipped gas so Desmond wasn't very worried about it.

"I'm... kind of an adrenaline junkie," Desmond admitted, it was part of the reason he liked whatever the hell he had with Altair. It was exciting. It was also why he liked having a motorcycle.

"I honestly wouldn't have guessed," Connor said.

"I'm kinda unassuming," Desmond agreed, "I don't feel the need very often. But dang, I just want a fast motorcycle and burn down Alligator Alley on it, or up seventy-five," he got a dreamy look in his eye for a moment.

"You really like motorcycles huh?" Connor asked.

"Yeap! I can even fix 'em. I basically repaired this girl from scratch when I got her. She needed nearly new everything except tires, forks, engine, and some of the gauges. So I had to learn to fix her up. It saves money on maintenance if I can just fix my own bike," Desmond said with a smile.

"Saving up for something?" Connor asked. Desmond nodded. "What?"

"Well besides college," Desmond hesitated a second. He hadn't told anyone this yet. It was a secret because he didn't want his friends (or his parents) to freak out, good freak out or bad freakout. Connor wasn't the kind of guy to 'freak out' about stuff though. He was really chill and just went with the flow. "I'm going to get a tattoo. Full sleeve. Eighteenth birthday present to myself."

Connor's eyes got big, "Really? Wow, that's really cool," Connor said.

Desmond nodded, "I've had this idea for a while. And I've been thinking about it for a while. So it isn't like I've just got a sudden craving."

"Full sleeve of what?"

Here Desmond blushed, sort of embarrassed, "I... drew my own design." He wasn't the best artist, but he'd shown it to the artist who was going to ink him up and they'd redrawn it for him to not look completely shitty. "Though someone with some actual talent redrew it for me," he added.

"That's still so cool. My dad would never let me get a tattoo."

"Heh... mine probably won't be happy either," he admitted. "Anyway, wanna keep riding?" he pointed at the motorcycle.

Connor looked at the fuel tank, then back at Desmond and nodded. "It's easier than I thought," he admitted.

"Yeap," Desmond agreed and Connor turned the bike on again. "Just be careful with her though. I'm saving up for the tattoo and I don't wanna have to buy new parts for her."

"Of course!" Connor said. He kicked up the kickstand again. Desmond stayed where he was this time, watching Connor drive in the big cleared out space for a while until his stomach complained it was hungry. Connor went back to his place for lunch.