"Four is no time to be waking up." Desmond mumbled against the tinted windows of Rebecca's fashionably large van; ipod headphones rested loosely in his ears, unheard music bouncing off of tired eardrums.

Shaun sipped at his coffee in a daze, trying to blink away the fatigue that threatened to close his lids for a few hours; his body was yelling at him for all of the sleepless nights he had put in during the time of Desmond's animus sessions. "At least you fell asleep." The music was grating slightly on the Brit's nerves, but he was far too tired to snap at the novice to turn the bloody thing off.

Rebecca changed lanes, following the signs pointing toward John Kennedy Airport. Lucy began to get out their tickets (Like a good little mother. Shaun thought sourly); her blonde hair was hidden by a dark brown wig, and when she turned behind in her seat to hand him, and the slightly comatose Desmond the plane tickets, her blue eyes were disguised by green contacts. The normally black haired woman in front scratched at the bright pink mo'hawk wig she had chosen. Her own contact covered eyes flickered up to the mirror. "You gonna be okay, Shaun?"

The Brit felt slightly bad at the harsh words he had shared with the two women over the week, finally realizing that...well, he may never see them again if they had to switch locations due to Templars. Shaun cleared his throat, disliking the taste of the coffee in his mouth, wishing for a tooth brush. "Of course I'm going to be fine...why do you ask?"

The dark van parked, the breaks squeaking lightly as they stopped. Rebecca hopped out of the van, the mo'hawk moving from side to side. She gave him a large smile as he got out; her hands rested on her hips. "I dunno, you just look like someone kicked your puppy. I think that you're sad because you're going to be leaving my beautiful face!" Behind the Brit, Lucy was shaking Desmond awake. He groaned and tried to swat her hand away. Shaun rolled his eyes and grabbed his laptop bag, swinging it over his shoulder, and grimacing at the coffee drink he held in his hand.

"As if I'm sad that I'll be leaving this place."

"I'll miss you too, Shaun."

A few hours later

Desmond was bored; although the relatively attractive flight attendant was clearly flirting with him, the moody pile of moodyness sitting beside him was causing the novice assassin to grump in his own seat. Shaun was practically pounding on the keys of his laptop, making the drink he had bought earlier to shake on the unstable tray.

The novice bit at the free granola bar the flight attendant had given him (it was his fourth one), and read over Shaun's shoulder. Dark eyes zoomed over the Italian the Brit was translating; he blinked and poked the screen. "You forgot a letter."

Shaun stopped typing, adjusted his glasses and took the granola from Desmond. "Hey!" The historian shoved the snack into his mouth, going back to his translations.

Desmond sunk into his chair, glaring at a slumbering fat man across the plane aisle. "British bitch."

Shaun hated making himself stay up; his eyes itched from behind his glasses, causing a small, uncomfortable groan to leave his mouth.

The annoying flight attendant that had constantly been 'checking up' on the passengers (namely Desmond) smiled when she handed the novice his complementary pillow, holding Miles' gaze a bit too long.

The Brit pouted lightly, closing his laptop with a click. He didn't care! Let the bloody idiot join the fucking mile high club! Said novice mumbled something in he sleep, causing the tired historian to roll his eyes. Hopefully he won't go all 'bleeding effect' and kill everyone... Except maybe the flight attendant...

Shaun snorted, opening the blind on their window, looking across the night sky. He rested his head on his hand, eyes drooping tiredly. I wonder what mum and dad will think...

London's international airport teemed with people from all over; Desmond grunted when he was elbowed in the gut by a rapidly talking Hispanic man, and he winced with a tired, bitchy Shaun 'accedentally' stepped on his foot.

The Brit yawned loudly, grabbing his wrist to tug him toward the packed gates. Desmond hummed lightly, threading their fingers together to pull off the whole 'they're so totally together' look. His 'boyfriend' didn't look too pleased.

Shaun flushed, a scowl dipping his lips; grey-green eyes swept over the crowd of multi-coloured faces, stopping on a trio who were jumping for their attention.

The Brit let go of Desmond's hand, walking swiftly to a short-woman who wrapped him in a tight hug. A little girl of probably four tugged at Shaun's hand, causing a bright smile to light up his face. Desmond blinked, feeling a flush run through his frame before he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his white hoodie. He strode over to the trio, a fumbled greeting falling out of his mouth.

Shaun held the little girl; two pairs of gray-green landed on the novice, and the historian sighed. "...erm, Christy, mum, dad..." Desmond had yet to fully notice the hulking mass of a man standing behind Shaun's pleasant looking mother. The Brit pointed nonchalantly to Desmond. "This is Desmond Miles, my--"

"Oh Shauny's little boyfriend!" The woman clapped her hands in delight, enveloping the unsuspecting novice in a tight hug. She pulled back, smiling cheekily, light brown eyes sparkling. "I'm Martha Hastings, Shaun's mother. Oh, you're a handsome one aren't you?!"

Desmond choked back laughter, shooting a glance at his 'boyfriend'; Shaun looked ready to drop-kick his mother, and then run crying in embarrassment.

Martha gestured to her husband, "This is Shaun's father, Charles."

Charles Hastings was a giant of a man; light brown-red hair covered his head, and gray-green eyes rested under darker brown coloured eyebrows. He held out a large hand, clasping Desmond's into a quick, arm breaking shake. He turned to his son, a small frown dipping one side of his mouth. "You said that you two met at work?" He had a light Scottish brogue, and his words were almost growled.

Shaun switched the little girl to his other hip, and rolled his eyes. He moved a bit closer to the novice, who stood wide eyed under his father's scrutinizing gaze (seemingly unaware that he had same disbelieving face.) "Yes, Dad."

"He looks like you picked him up from a bar."

The little girl in Shaun's arms began to poke his shoulder. "You never introduce me, Uncle Shaun!" The Brit laughed a bit, and turned to his 'boyfriend', ignoring his father's comment. Desmond flashed the little girl a bright smile, noting that she and Shaun looked very much alike.

Shaun smiled a tiny bit at the novice, mentally thanking him for being so calm around his family. "Desmond, this is my niece Christy; Christy this is Desmond."

Christy wrinkled her nose a little bit, sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth. "You're boyfriend, riight~?"

Desmond did laugh this time, ruffling the little girl's brown pig-tailed hair. "Yup!"

Martha grabbed hold of her husband's giant paw, pulling him lightly; she looked at her son, granddaughter, and (she would make this happen) future son-in-law. "Shauny, let's go get your bags before it becomes too crowded."

The two assassins followed the older couple; Christy filled the silent air between her uncle and his 'boyfriend' by talking about the baby chickens her class were raising. She skipped between the two, holding both of their hands. "I don't start Primary School until next September though."

Desmond hummed, eyes scanning the crowd of people; dark eyes stuck to a pair of men who glowed a bright red. He stopped, glancing at the corner of his eye to the historian. Christy turned, her brows furrowing in confusion. Desmond smiled lightly and squatted down to her height. "Hey, why don't you go help your grandma and grandpa with our bags? Shaun and I'll catch up." The little girl narrowed her eyes before she turned and skipped off to the baggage claim.

Shaun frowned, crossing his arms infront of his chest. "What's wrong?" Desmond's eyes flickered toward the pair of men, moving close to the historian.

"I know you can't see it, but those guys are glowing red." Shaun looked over the novice's shoulder, trained gaze locking onto the men.

One looked from his conversation; Shaun felt a chill run down his spine, knowing that the man had noticed there was something off about them. The two men stood from the table and began to make their way through the crowd.

Desmond felt the historian tense; the bleeding effect caused his senses to heighten, and he could make out the silent footfalls of the men's expensive leather shoes.

The Brit tightened his hand into a fist, mind briefly flashing to the ball point pen he had in his pocket. He knew that he could do a bit of damage with the writing utensil. The men were barely five feet away from the two assassins; Shaun began to reach for the pen, but Desmond, it seemed had other ideas.

Scarred lips pressed against his own, taking the Brit by suprise. Gray-green eyes went wide as he was pulled closer to Miles than he had ever wanted to be. From over the novice's shoulder, Shaun could see the two men pull a slightly disgusted face, and move away.

Desmond let go of the sputtering Brit, sighing lightly in relief. Shaun pushed him away, wiping his mouth on his sweater sleeve. "W-w-what the FUCK was THAT?!"

The novice flushed, "I panicked!"

"Oh! So apparently whenever you 'panic', you snog the first fucking thing infront of you?!"

"Hey..." Both men turned to see Christy, her gray-green eyes wide. She held an overstuffed bag of clothes to her chest; Martha and Charles were further back, holding different suitcases. Martha wore an amused expression, while Charles wore a fatherly disgusted mask. "You just wanted to get rid of me so you could kiss!"

Shit...I'm terribly sorry that this took so long. I haven't been feeling well for the past few weeks, and when I finally get off my lazy ass to write something, it turns to crap. sigh well, hope you like Shaun's mummy, daddy, and his niece, Christy! They're loosely based off of my own family members. Shaun's sister is even better though. HAHA.

Please review!