The sun was hot and the air was dry, the perfect combination of weather that irritates everyone. Altair pulled at his hood, baking in his coat, and tried to busy himself with the busy marketplace below. He noticed a filthy pickpocket, stealing glinting coins from a pompous noble. A poor merchant was desperately advertising his withered apples, but no one was in the mood to make a purchase. The Templars, because of the heat and because Altair had just eliminated a high ranking officer, were particularly nasty today. A group of eight was parading up and down the market, taunting the commoners and being generally vicious. Altair sighed, but did not move. Action now would serve no purpose other than detection and maybe death. A ninth Knight with a helm covering his face and with a bow strapped to his back rushed into the market and began talking heatedly to the others. Altair smirked at the arguing Templars, amused at their disorder and disagreements. But something made Altair look closer.

"Wait, an archer? Could that be…?" A voice in Altair's head said no. That archer could be anyone. One of the Knights slugged the archer in the face. Another voice said that it wouldn't hurt to examine the uproar. Altair slowly and carefully made his way down to the market and cautiously peered over the roof's edge at the Knights. By the time Altair had done this, two more Knights had joined the fray and were aiming heavy punches toward the archer. The bowman was quick, though, and he only took a few glancing bows.

"How's that feel?" one of the Knights shouted as his fist connected with the archer's shoulder. The archer responded with a swift quick to the stomach and the Knight doubled over.

"Sergeant said you missed a target last night, and you let him get away," another added.

"I didn't let him get away! I missed-" the archer protested.

"Ah, but you never missed in training, did ya? Not a single target, if I'm not mistaken." Altair examined the Knight's deadly expression and decided that he wasn't mistaken.

"Did ya let him go, Thomas?" Altair inhaled sharply. It was him! he exclaimed mentally. "Did you get soft and let him go?" The Knight drew his sword and the archer took a step back,

"Hey, come on, we're all on the same team…" but the Knight with the sword wasn't listening.

"You know what we do to traitors in the Templar Order?" he asked harshly, "We don't have any use for a man that stays his sword."

"I won't fight you. We are both Knights." Thomas said weakly. The other Knight raised the sword.

"Good," he said loudly, "This should be easy!" Altair watched the sword descend in slow motion. Move, you idiot! he thought, but Thomas remained immobile. Like a flash of lighting, Altair was in between them and he caught the sword between his hands.

"You…" Thomas whispered, "What are you…?"

"I really have no idea," and it was true; Altair didn't know why he interfered. The Knight with the sword yanked hard and Altair released the sword. The Knight stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. A few citizens laughed as he fumbled in his heavy armor. Altair withdrew a throwing knife, but Thomas caught his hand,

"No!" Thomas said fiercely, "Don't kill them!" Altair threw him a dubious expression, but pocketed his knife anyway. The group of Knights backed away and drew their weapons. Altair placed himself Thomas and the Knights, planting his feet firmly on the ground.

"Run, Thomas," he said quietly, "get away from here." Thomas shook his head.

"No. I'll help, but I won't kill anyone," Thomas responded. Altair rolled his eyes, thinking, This could make things far more complicated than necessary. Two of the Knights rushed Altair. The assassin parried, disarming the Knight, and tossed him into an alleyway. The other Knight was slashing toward Altair when Thomas tripped the Templar with his bow. The other six Knights began to advance as the other two picked themselves up.

"We have to move," Altair said plainly, "we'll be overrun if we stay." Thomas hesitated for a moment and then nodded in agreement.

"Yes, I- we need to get away…" Altair took the young Knight by the hand and led him into the labyrinth streets of Jerusalem.

They ran up walls, over buildings and under bridges. They ran until Thomas thought he was going to collapse. Eventually, Altair led them to a small, enclosed house made of dried bricks and mud. The entered the building quickly and quietly, bolting the door behind them. Thomas dropped to the floor and tore off his helm, revealing a pale face and short, spiky blond hair. Altair leaned against one wall, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. They sat in breathy silence as the Knights rushed past and sighed with relief once their heavy footsteps had disappeared. Thomas looked around the small room and looked to Altair.

"Where are we?" he asked, running a hand over his sweaty brow. Altair, who was strangely transfixed with Thomas's blue eyes, did not answer for a moment. Thomas looked to him and Altair looked away when their eyes met.

"This is a safe house for my…" Altair caught himself and amended the statement, "this is just a place I use to hide out." Thomas examine scanned the room. He saw a small bed in the corner, a wooden table, some hefty gourds of water, and a few large cushions that served as chairs.

"It's… lovely," Thomas said after a moment, "It has everything you might need." Altair shrugged and decided to change the subject.

"So, what are you going to do?" he asked. Thomas gestured meaninglessly,

"About the marketplace? I don't really know," he thought for a little bit, and then said, "the Lieutenant is a really nice guy… he'll probably understand. He's the reason I joined the Templar Order." Altair nodded but did not respond. Thomas continued, "But I guess we should let things cool down before I go out again." Altair stared at the Knight's eyes again, and this time, Thomas noticed.

"Is there something on my face?" Thomas asked politely.

"Wh-what?" Altair stuttered, embarrassed at being caught.

"Well, you've been staring at my face for a few minutes now. I was just wondering…" Altair couldn't think of an excuse and decided that honesty was the best way to go.

"It's just… your eyes. You don't see many blue eyes here in Jerusalem. Or yellow hair for that matter." Thomas laughed softly,

"Oh, is that all?" he said good-naturedly, "I thought for sure that Knight had split a lip or something." Altair laughed at the joke, despite himself. "But my face is kind of sore." Altair walked to Thomas and examined his face,

"Well," Altair said slowly and leaned close to the Knight, "you do have some bruising. But no permanent damage was done," his dark eyes wandered from the Knight's jaw to those azure eyes and their eyes met again. Thomas exhaled softly and Altair shivered as the hot breath caressed his cheek. Suddenly, as if being pulled from a dream, they realized their proximity to one another and broke apart abruptly. Altair tried to ease the awkward moment,

"So, um, you're welcome to stay as long as you want," he said shortly. Thomas smiled in response. The sun was beginning to dip on the horizon and Altair stifled a yawn, "Oh, and you can have the bed tonight, if you want," he motioned toward the small bed in the corner. Thomas sighed and pulled at his chain mail,

"Do you mind if I take this stuff off?" he asked. "The armor is murder in this heat." Altair shook his head and averted his eyes as Thomas removed his armor. The Knight was wearing a tunic and a pair of breeches under the chain mail, but they were damp and form fitting, and Altair felt strangely embarrassed. The assassin also felt the heat and finally submitted, removing his coat and the hood. Thomas looked at Altair's powerfully built body, visible even through the shirt and pants, and raised his eyebrows.

"What? What's with the look?" Altair asked as he hung his coat on a hook.

"Nothing, I just wasn't expecting you to be…" Thomas left the sentence unfinished, which both worried and excited the assassin. The two men abandoned the conversation as they remembered their thirst and they spent a few minutes drinking water and washing the grime from their faces. At one point, Thomas reached over to Altair to wash out a clump of sand that was caught in the assassin's short hair. Altair, whose back was turned, was not expecting the sudden touch and grabbed the Knight's wrist and pulled him close. Altair pinned him against the clay wall, crushing their chests together. Thomas opened his eyes wide with a small amount fear and a larger amount of something else that Altair could not identify. Altair's breath was ragged and he leaned in close to Thomas.

Then, as suddenly as they had come together, they parted, Altair striding across the room.

"Sorry…" he gasped, "you startled me." Thomas stood paralyzed against the wall,

"No… don't worry about it…" the Knight said back. They lapsed into silence as Altair prepared dinner.

The room was dark and quiet when Thomas finally crept into the small bed. Altair had volunteered to sleep on the floor, despite the Knight's protests. But for some reason, as tired as he was, the Templar could not sleep. He was excited and nervous for some reason as that gruff voice from the floor said,

"Good night, Thomas."

"Good night, Altair," the name on his tongue left a curious taste, "wait. Altair?" The assassin grunted in reply. "I need to know something. Why did you save me in the marketplace?"

"I could ask you the same question about the other night," When Thomas didn't respond, Altair continued, "It felt like the right thing to do. I didn't want to see you get hurt," The answer left made Thomas shiver slightly.

"Well, whatever the reason, I want to thank you," Thomas said solemnly, "for saving me and for this shelter."

"No problem at all, Thomas…" Altair said sleepily. The room was left with silence and sleep.

When Thomas awoke, he was laying on the floor next to Altair. The assassin had wrapped an arm around the Knight's waist protectively. Thomas wasn't sure what happened, but the warmth was not unwelcome. Altair awoke quickly as Thomas shifted and their eyes met briefly. Altair unwrapped his arm from around Thomas hastily and blushed faintly,

"You were thrashing in your sleep, you see," Altair explained hurriedly, "a bad dream or something. You fell to the ground and you grabbed onto me. I was just trying to calm you down…" but Thomas grinned.

"Seems like you save me even when I'm asleep," the Knight commented.

"Think nothing of it," Altair mumbled in reply. They sat close together for awhile, on the floor, and did not move until the sun had fully dawned. And when heir fingertips met underneath one of the blankets, neither of them said a thing.

A/N: Er… I'm not even sure WHY they like one another… I just think it's cute that Altair bails him out of everything. Stuff is gonna get more complicated, though… a little heartbreak never hurt anyone… oh, wait…

You can be sure of one thing though; Thomas is going to get in trouble again, and who's going to help him? Duh! Only the hottest, manliest, most sexually-repressed assassin ever to live!