Part Two

Chapter 17

Jennifer Hernandez:

"Altaïr, you have to get up now."

My words are met with a muffled 'huff' as he buries deeper into the blankets, pulling them over his head as he does. I shake my head, fondness in every inch of the soft smile I don't try to push down. Not that I can, considering the picture Altaïr makes, snuggled deep into the blankets and grumbling as I try to wake him.

"I know you're tired," I whisper, voice low as I take a seat on the edge of the bed and lean over him to place a kiss on his head over the blankets. Not that I'm sure he feels it, but the sentiment is there, gentle and loving and he must feel that as he 'hums'. "We're going to eat soon, and mom wants everyone washed up before that."

"In a bit," Altaïr grumbles, clearly already waking even as he seems intent on fighting it. I laugh at that, low and fond as I slowly slip the blankets away from him, fondness only growing when he lets me.

"Up, up, up," I tell him, leaving the blanket pooled around his legs as I can't resist leaning over him, pressing against his back as he's rolled over onto his stomach during his sleep. Placing another kiss on his cheek, I snuggle into the warmth of his back, wrapping my arms around him as I do. "Before someone beats us to the shower."

"Us?"

That that's what gets his attention has me giggling all over again and I have to muffle my laughs into his shoulder, so they don't disturb the peaceful quiet around us. Altaïr shifts eagerly under me then, arms returning my hold as he coaxes my lips up for a kiss. One I meet eagerly even as soft giggles still make their way out of my lips.

"Is that a yes?" he asks when I finally break the kiss and ease my way back out of his arms. He lets me go, even though he makes no move to follow me off the bed. Instead, he sprawls out on it stretching as I stand to rifle through my closet for something to wear to tonight's dinner that isn't sweats or a graphic tee.

"I can be convinced," I tell him, forcing my smile down when I turn to look at him again, a pair of jeans and presentable enough top in my hands. Tossing them on the bed next to him, I have to work really hard to keep the smile off my face when he quirks a brow, challenging my restraint. "But I don't think anyone will appreciate us hogging the hot water."

Altaïr huffs at that but finally starts to move. Sitting up, he throws his legs over the opposite side of the bed from me just as a stretch overtakes him. One that has multiple joints cracking, snapping loud as his muscles tense. His shirt does nothing to hide the outline of them, but I still find myself wishing it was gone so that I can map out every muscle and every scar that might run across his back.

The longer I stare the more a shower together is starting to sound like a good idea. It won't even be our first one together but boy does my mouth go dry at the idea of running my hands across all that tan skin. Even now, I can't stop myself from trailing my eyes up his back, drinking him in so that when my gaze reaches his eyes staring at me over his shoulder, there's no way to hide my ogling.

Not that I even bother to attempt to as I just nod my head in appreciation and return to my task of finding us appropriate Thanksgiving outfits. There's now a section of my closet specifically for him and as I refile through it I can't help but wonder how I ever thought I could possibly let him go.

How I was just supposed to say goodbye when he's already so deeply ingrained into my life. When I have a drawer in my dresser full of even more clothes for him and him alone. When I know the rhythm of his beating heart, the sound of his laughter, and the feeling of his skin under my fingers.

How was I ever supposed to say goodbye when he's all I've ever wanted.

"Altaïr," I call then, tossing his clothes onto the bed as I do. He hums in reply, turning my way fully as I climb across the bed towards him. Reaching him, I take his face into my hands, cupping it in the palms of my hands as I kneel before him. Tilting his head up, I can't resist placing a kiss on his lips.

One he deepens as his arms come up to wrap around my waist and pull me fully into him until we're once again pressed up against each other. Until there's no air left between us and pulling away from each other sounds too painful to bear.

"How was I ever supposed to resist you," he whispers against my lips when we finally part for air. I can't help but chuckle then, the sound just as low as his whisper.

"I think you have it wrong," I tell him, pressing soft pecks to his cheeks and his forehead, and his lips, and just everywhere I can reach as I do. "I'm supposed to be the one who couldn't resist your handsomeness. Minerva was counting on it."

"Was she right?" he teases, hand sliding up my back to thread through my hair. His fingers snag in a few bed head knots, but even then his hold is gentle as he cradles the back of my head and brings my lips back to his.

"More than you'll ever know."

We fall back onto the bed then. As I lay there, sprawled out while he hovers over me, I have the slightly worrying thought that we might never actually make it out of bed. Not that I get to worry about it for long as all too soon, Altaïr pulls himself up. Kneeling between my spread thighs he shoots me a smirk, one full of sinful promises as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing sun-kissed skin and a well-defined chest. And even though I've seen it all before, the sight never gets old.

"I think I may know more than enough," he says ducting back down to press his lips to mine and giving me the chance to run my finger across his back as I wrap my arms around him. His skin is soft to the touch for all that the pads of my fingers catch on the bumpy ridges of long heal scars.

I touch all that I can reach, fingers carefully running over any scars I find just in case any of them may be fresh enough to sting. He 'hums' under the attention, a shiver crawling up his spine more than once when I find a particularly sensitive scar.

"We'll never make it out of bed at this rate," I warn as he finally releases my lips so that I can gasp for breath. He chuckles against my cheek, his lips never really leaving my skin as he trails them down the column of my throat. Once there, he bites kisses into the skin that have me gasp from more than just lack of air. "Seriously, we have to get up."

"Okay, okay," he relents, though he makes sure to leave one last stinging bite on my collar bone before he finally pulls away and off the bed. I huff at the bite, fingers coming up to ease the pain even as I can't help smiling at him when he shoots another smirk my way.

I climb off the bed after him, more than ready to see some more skin as I grab up our clothes and beckon him after me with a crook of my fingers. The chuckle that leaves his lips then sends chills down my spine. It's the good kind of chills though. The kind that makes my heart beat faster in anticipation as I lead him down the hall and into the bathroom.

Once we reach it, I waste no time ushering him in and tossing our clothe onto the bathroom counter before locking the door behind us. He pushes me against it once I turn back to him, crowding me against it as he bends down until his lips brush against the shell of my ear.

"I take it you will be joining me," he whispers, and I can't help but shiver against the door as his hands go to the hem of my shirt. He pauses then, an unasked question between us and it's only when I nod that he pulls it off.

The bathroom air is cold when it brushes across my skin. It sends me shivering into his arms then. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I press myself as close to him as I can. All but melting into the warmth of his skin when it meets mine. I scatter kiss across what skin I can reach as his arms pull me closer still, enveloping me in all the warmth he has to offer when my next shiver is from the cold.

"As much as I'm truly enjoying this, I think it's a bit too cold to just stand here," I tell him. It's just past noon now, but even with the sun high in the sky, the autumn chill is fierce today. So much so that I almost don't want to pull out of his arms to start the water. "So come on."

He lets me go easily enough, watching as I make my way to the tub and plug it. While a shower is more than enough, something about lounging in the tub sounds a lot more appealing. Though that could be because it reminds me so much of our trip to Jerusalem. Of the days spent traveling on horseback through the beauty of the medieval era countryside when we've both just returned from similar trips ourselves (him Acres and Me Venice). So much so that I can't resist reenacting how our trip to Jerusalem had ended.

With a steaming hot bath.

That this tub is just big enough for the both of us is a plus I'm not about to pass up. Taking a bottle off the shelf, I pour enough of its contents into the rushing waters so that the smell of lavender wafts up from the steaming water. Gentle and relacing, it slowly spreads around the room as I take the time to pull off the rest of my clothes.

I leave them in a pile at my feet. More than ready to climb into the water, I'm only stopped from doing just that when his arms, warm and strong, pull me back into an equally firm chest. Altaïr smiles down at me when I tilt my head up to peer at him in askance.

"I thought you were joining me," he teases as he presses up against my back so I can feel every inch of pleasantly warm against me. The temptation to stay like this is strong, but the tile is ice-cold against the flats of my feet and, while the steam forms the water has warmed up the room, there's still a cold enough breeze coming from the ventilation to make the temptation more than resistible.

"You're taking too long," I tell him instead, shuffling out of his arms to urge him to climb into the tub. He does so easily. More than willing to give into my wills, he folds himself into the tub with enough space for me too.

Carefully, I make my way in next, placing myself in between his thighs with my back to him, I lean back into him. He lets me, encourages me even as he shifts me with him when he leans back as well. Settling, one of his hands rests on my thigh, fingers drawing lazy patterns across the skin there, while he tucks the other behind his head.

Unsure what to do with my own hands, I run my fingers along his thigh, marveling at the firmness of it. Though when my fingers come across a scar, one aged to the point of being barely visible, I can't help but linger on it.

It runs across his thigh, straight with the edges neat like the cut of a blade. Even scarred, the skin of his thigh is smooth, the muscles under it firm. As an Assassin, he is in peak physical condition and his body screams it. From the definitions of his muscles to the healthy tone of his skin, he is built for the cruel life he leads.

And I can't help but want to drink in every inch of him.

It's as my fingers skirt the end of it, high up on his inner thigh, that he twitches out from them. I have only a second to consider if the skin there may be sensitive before I receive my answer in the form of biting kisses against the back of my shoulder.

"Keep doing that and I won't be able to hold myself back," he all but growls and it's then that I feel it, hot and heavy against the small of my back.

"You won't find me complaining," I tease him even though I pull my hands away from his skin. As much as I would love to see just how much we can do in such a small area, my family is home and there are limits to how much I feel comfortable doing with when they're only one locked door away.

I can feel the smirk on his lips when he presses one last kiss to my shoulder before he leans back again. Relaxing once more into the warmth of the bath, I lounge peacefully against him once again, more than ready to doze off it wasn't because I just don't want to spend any more of our limited time together sleeping.

"When will you have to leave?" I ask him, fingers trailing through the water and watching the swirls they leave in their wake. The 'hum' he lets out then is sleepy, content as it vibrates through his chest and into my back.

"Soon," he admits, his arm coming down from behind his head to wrap around my waist as he does. The water sloshes dangerously around us as he tights it around me, threatening to slosh over the edge of the tube as he pulls me closer into his bare chest.

"Can you stay for dinner?" I ask, a smile on my lips even though I know I'll be seeing him off when it feels like he's only just come back. Despite how tired we both had been, I suddenly wish I hadn't fallen asleep.

I wish that I had stayed up if only just a few minutes more to truly enjoy what little time he has before he has to leave yet again. But I don't dwell on the regret. It's nothing more than a passing pang because I know I'll see him again.

Especially now that I can truly call him mine.

"Yes," he says as I finally grab a washcloth and a bar of soap so we can start getting clean. He excepts the lathered-up washcloth when I pass it to him but, instead of using it on himself, he runs it gently across my back. "I do not have to leave until morning in Masyaf."

Which means I have until sunset to spend with him.

"Where will you be heading to now?"

"Damascus," he says, passing the washcloth back to me once he's done scrubbing himself as well. I had him the shampoo next and relax against him when he pours some in my hair. His fingers carding through my hair have me melting into him all too soon. "I will be back in three days."

The words are a promise. One I accept wordlessly as we finish bathing. Unplugging the tub so that all the dirtier water can empty out, I stand to turn on the showerhead. He stands with me as I do, all but crowding me against the warm falling water as a shiver works its way up my back from the cold.

All too soon, the suds are washed off and we have no choice but to finally end our shower. We change in that same peaceful quietness, saying nothing to each other even as we trade lingering touches as we towel off and change into the clothes I've picked out for us.

I've kept it simple for both of us. Sticking to dark wash jeans and a black button-down for him turns out to be one of the best choices I've made so far as he looks good enough to have me drooling. As for myself, my top is back and lacey, but I've decided on a lighter pair of blue jeans.

A quick peek in the mirror tells me we make quite the pair, matching as we are. I can't help but smile at that, thoroughly pleased with myself as we finally make out way out of the bathroom and back to my room so I can finish getting ready.

Tossing my hair up into a half-up, half-down do and applying a small amount of makeup on, it's only then that we finally make our way into the dining room. It's late enough that dinner should be starting soon, but not o late that anyone us been waiting for us.

"Where's Ken?" Mom asks, entering the dining room from the kitchen with a tray of food in her hands. She sets it on the table carefully, cautious of getting burnt from the pan of steaming mash potatoes.

"He should be here with Ezio and Leonardo soon," I tell her as I push Altaïr to sit before making my way to Alexis' side to help him set the table. He smiles at me as I do, a smirk that promises danger on his face when he flicks his eyes Altaïr's way. Face flushing I turn away as fast as I can, eager to get away before the teasing can start I say, "You know what, I'll go get them."

"We're here," Ken calls just then, stepping into just before I can make my grand escape. Ezio enters behind him, followed closely by an ever-smiling Leonardo and Uncle Mario.

"You made it," I call out, voice just a little too high pitched as I rush to his side and place him directly between Alexis and me. Alexis chuckles as I do, the sound is so sinister that I know this won't be enough to save me in the long run. Groaning, I decide to ignore him for now as I turn Leonardo's way. "Since this is your first Thanksgiving, well ever, would you like to hear the story of the Native American Genocide?"

"Maybe Ken should tell the story," Mother says, a fond look in her eyes when she turns them Ken's way. Ken returns the look with a tentative smile, flushing slightly in embarrassment as he suddenly finds himself the center of attention. "Considering this will be their first time learning of the 'founding of America', they're going to need an in-depth telling of the events and its catastrophic outcome."

"Why not just turn on the History Channel?" Alexis asks, giving us all a puzzled look as he sets the last of the silverware down on the table.

"They romanticize the founding of America," Dad says, as he enters the room carrying in a glazed ham. After setting it carefully on the table, he turns to greet Mario and the ease with which he takes Mario's arm in his hand and delivers a firm pat on his back with the other tells me that they've been spending a fair amount of time together.

"I can't argue with that," I agree as I take a seat to Altaïr's left, cupping his hand with both of mine, I press a kiss to his scarred flesh. Lips lingering on it, on the promise of his devotion to his Brotherhood, I watch as they all gather around the table.

Slowly, as if drawn together by the promise of a story, everyone takes a seat while Dad places the last dish for tonight's meal onto the table. It's the most important one a whole Turkey ready and waiting to be carved into as Dad takes a seat at the head of the table.

"Before that, let's give thanks," Dad says, right hand coming out to take Mom's hand in his. Understanding the cue, we all reach for each other, locking hands with the person next to us until we form a circle around the table. "For the food on this table, for Alexis' success in school, for Ken being here with us today, for Jen surviving the attack against her life, for Altaïr continuing success and return, and for the family—both born and found—with us tonight."

It's a simple pray, short and sweet but every word of it is meant with a sincereness that has me pressing my lips harder to the scar on Altaïr's hand as I whisper the words like a promise. A vow to be forever thankful for my family, for my life, for him—Altaïr.

Despite the frustration, the failures, the anger, and the deceits that have happened and will no doubt continue to happen, I can't help but feel it down to the depths of my bones. I can't fight off the overwhelming gratitude that comes with being able to do this, to hold his hand to my lips, to have him at my side. To breathe him in, alive and thriving and just real when he never should have been.

'Come what may. Thank you, Minerva.'

"Now then let's eat!"