A/N: I don't know what to say. I mean, I'll be honest, I didn't expect such a positive response from you guys. This story was born while chatting with wonderful Vince and our joint disappointment of where the vampire lore has gone. With Desmond's new, more active role in Brotherhood and its unfortunate end, this story became possible for me to write it without affecting the character's personalities. It even helped me map out Shaun's personality better (even though I still have a hard time with him). I'm not really sure where this will go, or for how long, but I do know this. I thank you, very much. As long as I have one person eager for the next chapter, I will do my best to keep it up.
I know, tl;dr. In short? Thank you so much for the reviews. I'll try to update ASAP and Assassin's Creed and its people don't belong to me. On with the show!
Winter vacation came and went, filled with nights full of partying people, trips to hometowns and home countries, meetings with aunts and uncles and great-great grandmothers that still pinch your cheeks. Celebrations of a jolly, fat man and the birth of a certain religious figure passed, either in the company of loved ones or alone. The New Year arrived as well, everyone opening bottles of cider, eating grapes, and the ritual kissing of someone special at exactly twelve along with other festive activities.
Unfortunately, school has this thing where you have to come back, no matter how comfortable you were at your granny's or that person you met at some other place or how much fun you're having. School and work don't care, don't wait and demand you present yourself on Monday sharp.
Shaun had to travel quite the distance back after a rather awkward family reunion to which he swore next year he wasn't going to attend (just like he'd swore last year). There was a reason he was studying abroad after all. While he was stuck listening to his mother's complains about menopause and his grandmother's (why was the woman still alive!) whines about cold bones, he couldn't help but think about Mr. Desmond Miles.
Hadn't he seemed different when he'd seen him on the cart? Maybe he'd gone through withdrawal? This troubled him as he drank a cup of real Earl Grey and cut off his nephews' noisy games and general chaos caused by the little devils. But he didn't have the haggard appearance when he'd dropped from the sky, he mused, as he sat outside watching the fireworks display and afterwards, absentmindedly hugging every single person that had come to the Hasting's Christmas Celebration (an enormous event made possible by every neighbor in their street though he still wasn't sure why it had their name in it).
But it was the same person. He wore the same hoodie, same pants and that scar. Cutting straight through those smirking lips, full and teasing, somehow perfect as it marred him. The scar itself seemed to have him even more perplexed than its owner. How did he get it? Was he in a fight? Did someone bite him? This was contemplated as he tried his best to ignore the overly talkative man besides him, an Arab, maybe from Iraq, Kadar, if he remembered right. His brother was fast asleep and there was no way to politely tell the younger to please shut up.
And then there was that thing about kissing. Miles had kissed him, Hastings, a complete stranger, had bid him goodnight, and was still looking up at his apartment when he'd gone in. It was inconvenient, really, because every time he'd see someone kiss on New Year's Eve he'd think of that kiss under the lamp post. He would remember the warm breath before, the press on his own lips, the scar (again with the bloody scar), the smile after they parted and his eyes, confident that they'd somehow meet again.
This made another question spring up (as if he needed more). How in bloody hell where they going to meet again! They hadn't exchanged phone numbers, email, facebook, twitter, anything. Sure, the man knew his address, but he didn't think he'd come strolling up the stairs, knock on his door and ask if he wanted to go out and have a cup of coffee (as friends, obviously)!
Oh well, he thought morosely, yet again absentmindedly performing a task like pushing the keys to his apartment in the lock. At least it'd been somewhat pleasant.
He was promptly pulled into the apartment. And viciously too. He almost tripped on the carpet, half-dragged his bags in with him and was very close to coming in acquaintance with the carpet he'd just tripped on.
"Hello, Becca. I'm fine, thank you so much for asking. I'm sorry I didn't bring you anything as wonderful as being half tossed into my own apartment. Maybe a nice kick or a punch in the face would do, but knowing you, you'll probably whine and ask for something a bit more ostentatious." His tone of voice was cheery. Please ignore the overflowing sarcasm and wittiness.
Rebecca Crane was smiling very much like a maniac. Sometimes he wondered how they became friends of all things. Oh, right, life debt. "Man, you've got to tell me his name. He's gorgeous as hell. Came at least twice to check if you'd come back."
Shaun froze. "What?" He hoped his face wasn't as red as he felt it. Or his ears, for that matter. Oh blimey, how he hated it when his ears blushed of all things. He blinked, staring at her, waiting for more details and wondering if they were talking about the same man he'd just given up on.
"Tall, dark and handsome with a scar on his lips, remember? The guy always came sometime around eight asking if Shaun Hastings was available." She was positively preening now. "Did Shaunikins finally decide to come out of Narnia? Because seriously, if you haven't, I'll tap that."
Ladies and gentlemen! Shaun Hastings with his World Renowned Gold Fish Impersonation! Watch as his eyes boggle from behind his glasses! Astound yourself with the perfect way he copies the fish's opening and closing of its mandible!
"He came here!" Now he was blushing for sure. The apartment's heating was obviously the cause of this.
"Oh hell yeah, it's what I've been telling you. I think he'd be great for you. He's nice, to start. You know, not a sarcastic prick like someone I know. And he's handsome. Anyone'll be jealous of you, myself excluded of course, because this is your first gay experience-"
"I'm not gay!"
"-and it'd suck if I interfered or something." While she spoke (and Shaun tried to protect his virility), she began pacing around the small living room, waving her hands about. "I bet he's great on the rack. I mean parkour? You have any idea the muscle, not to mention the type of sharp mind and balls you've got to have to practice that sport? You got real lucky."
Shaun gave a deep sigh and adjusted his glasses. He marched to his room, head held high as Rebecca followed after him, and then proceeded to lock himself up in his room while the horrible wench pounded on his door. As he began calmly unpacking his things and placing them neatly where they were supposed to be, he couldn't help the smile on his face, or how his heart fluttered, or the light heat on his cheeks. Really, the apartment's heating was terrible!
Rebecca wouldn't stop badgering about who Shaun's mystery man was and Shaun wouldn't stop artfully dodging or changing the subject (she had the attention span of a goldfish, after all). What little vacation time they had in January was now gone and he found himself in his library morning job. He could always count on his job for silence and peace, and he could think as much as he wanted without the constant chit-chat that was Crane. It also provided with a chance to maybe sneak-a-peek at Miles ("Desmond" his mind would remind him, and with his tone of voice too).
No such luck. Three weeks passed and still no sign of him.
"Maybe your face scared him away." Rebecca suggested as she ate some vegetarian thing. It looked like it would move at any moment. "Or your attitude, 'cus hells if I know you've got a wonderful way of making people feel special."
The Brit glared at her, turning from some newscast about several mauling attacks by some animal around their region. "Hilarious, Rebecca, truly, is this how you pick men up? By degrading them? No wonder you never have one man for more than one night."
"No, see, those're called one-nighters. But you wouldn't know about those, would you?" She gave him this pompous sneer that he wanted to swipe off her face with his plate.
"Oh, belt up." Shaun huffed and turned back to the news with the woman laughing in victory. Stupid cocky wench.
Eventually, his good mood turned sour as the days passed and still no signs of the bloody git. The only positive thing was that at least Becca was being sympathetic now and was trying to find out anything she could about him.
And then he remembered that Becca could really find anything about anyone in rather dubious, not to mention illegal ways and he told her immediately to stop. After about two hours of a heated argument (in which the techno geek began singing at the top of her lungs mid-argument), she finally gave in and agreed not to do anything dangerous.
He still kept a careful watch on her, regardless.
After January ended and February came in, Shaun gave up. There was no reason to keep up with this childish hope in meeting him, and anyway, it wasn't like he'd been eager to have a reunion with the parkourist. Plus, he didn't feel broken hearted at all that was stupid.
"Oh c'mon Shaun," Rebecca was currently trying (read failing) to cheer him up as they finally finished their last class (she'd insisted he take an advance computer class with her for the extra credits. He'd stupidly agreed because it fit his evening schedule). "I'm sure he's searching for you, just like you're waiting for him. It's romantic though isn't it? You, the hopeful virgin-"
"R-Rebecca, I'm not a virgin!"
"-Him, the one to finally pull you out of your glass closet-"
"Would you stop it with the gay jokes!"
"- and then the both of you meet under the snow and share a warm kiss! The very picture of a romance novel!" She sighed as they exited the main building. This is Becca in fan girl mode. Be sure to keep a twenty mile radius away from her for your own safety.
He didn't want to hear her. At all. Tuning her out as he usually did when she began these ridiculous rants was simple with a simple rub of his eyes. He now had some heavy assignments but nothing he couldn't handle. He began systematically ordering them by level of importance, due dates and size. The Brit smiled quietly to himself and blinked when Becca's chatter was absent in the background.
"What?" He asked, turning to look at her. She was looking up at the building. "Cat finally got your tongue? Those things on the sky are clouds, Rebecca, and what's falling is called snow. Now, why don't you-." Something interrupted him by deciding to fall from the bloody sky.
Of course he didn't scream like some woman, this was previously discussed! Rebecca on the other hand gave a whoop of delight and whatever fell from the sky spoke up.
"Sorry I startled you. Do you scream every time someone scares you?"
Shaun stared up from his spot on the floor (because Becca had very obviously pushed him) up at the man he'd yet again recently given up on and stammered (falls hurt the brain, you know).
"Y-You! You, you git! You barmy ceiling monkey! You think you can simply drop down from bullock's know where! Are you off your trolley! No, really, tell me, because every time I've met you, you fall from the bloody sky, you overzealous prat!" A rant was this? Oh no, it was him simply telling Miles 'Hello, chap! How've you been! Holidays all right?'
"Hi Shaun." That was it! He practically told the man to bugger off and he just smiles like he, like he… "I know it's weird, but I missed you. I thought I wouldn't see you again." He was blushing a bit, toeing the ground anxiously. Becca watched this all with an enormous shit-eating grin. He was left somewhere in the middle with his face burning and his throat clogged up.
"Shaun's missed you too!" They both turned to look at the woman with the glint in her eye that informed everyone in the vicinity that a plan had formed in that deranged mind of hers. "As a matter of fact, he was moping all week long because you didn't come see him!"
"Did he now?" Have the earth swallow him. Sometime today would be wonderful. He was about to open his mouth, snap that it wasn't true because the goddamn arsehole was smiling bloody again when the geek herself broke in quickly.
"Yes! You know, I think you owe him now. You practically left him hanging, Desmond right? How about making it up for him?"
Wide brown eyes turned to glare at her and tell her to put a sock on it when he answered with a nervous "You think he'd accept going on a date with me?" Now he was staring at the bloody moron and the weather was doing things again because his face (and his ears) felt hot. A date! A date! A gloved hand slapped over his mouth at break wrist speed and he tried (read failed again) to pry it off.
"Hell yeah! Friday good?" He glared daggers at her. Could someone else drop from the sky! Now! Because now he felt like his legs were giving away and his heart was doing its absolute best to rams its way out his chest.
"Eight sound good?" The number you're calling is out of order. Please try again at some other time when the recipient's soul is in its proper place. Or maybe in some other dimension when his witty remarks are not hampered down by a strong, gloved hand. Of a woman of all things. He was really pathetic wasn't he?
Becca merely smiled from ear to ear. "Eight's perfect. He'll be hot and ready to go"
That's when he turned to look at him, finally, because he wasn't just painted there or like he was just some statue with ridiculous embarrassed faces every two seconds. "I'll see you on Friday then. It was nice seeing you again Shaun, even if Becca did all the talking." The sound of his chuckle would be forever engrained in his memory (for perfectly normal reasons!)
She let go but only after the barmy monkey had slipped himself away over the building's roof (with commentaries on his strength and arse by Becca). At this point, she looped an arm over his shoulder, smirked and asked "Aren't I an awesome friend?"
The geek received no answer as he hurriedly walked towards his apartment. No reply was given as she kept pestering him for thanks on the trolley. Neither did he respond when she teased him all the way up the stairs. And it felt very satisfying to slam the door in her face, even if it was slightly eclipsed by her roaring laughter. As he sat on bed and rubbed his eyes again, he couldn't really deny this time that he was smiling from ear to ear with his heart doing summersaults in his chest.