I'm likin the progress I'm making J hopefully I can have this tastefully ended before school starts again and give myself some time for another story. (If you lovelies want that)

It's a dangerous game he's grown to liking, using his agility and pristine grace to taunt the looming threats below. It elicits a rush through him words failed to grasp…In its absence a hollow sense of longing fills the gap in him that can't be quenched unless he's out there, walking the fine line between life and death.

He spins, his heart giving a shudder as the toes of his shoes brush over the edge of the building. Yes, it's a very dangerous game; one that Swartz would personally slaughter him for if he knew what his prized experiment did in his free time.

Ever since his breakdown with Daniel, Swartz had kept him at a mere arms distance to constantly observe and test him. Most of the time spent he was supposedly observing Damon, Swartz would be constantly bombarding him, "How are you feeling? How is your heart rate? Do you need anything?"

He wouldn't let Daniel anywhere near him for the same amount of time; whether it be a perfectly logical reason, or the doctor's over protective ways that led to the constant clashing between the two men. Damon didn't actually have any interest to know nor did he actually care at this point.

The distance from his slow healing friendship was a bit stress relieving... It helped being away from another source of his insecurities for a while. But still, being with Swartz as long as he had left him needing some negativity, some pessimist views in his conversation. And Daniel was the ticket to a cold splash of reality everyone needed once in a while. He wasn't everyone's favorite person to talk to for many reasons and admittedly, Damon's social stand points weren't very strong due to his connection to Daniel. No one was exactly clamoring to ask him out for drinks after work. But by god the man was smart; smarter than people would give him credit for. He held a sharp wit and a merciless tongue that could either be amusing, or horrifying. For Damon it was neither…it was interesting. Cross had this way of pulling you in if you sat and listened, short bursts of different twangs and accents reaching specific words, his hands being unable to resist moving with his words.

God why was it whenever he was alone he always ended up philosophizing his relationship with Cross?! He growled in irritation with himself, suddenly craving Swartz's presence once again. He really was getting too clingy with the elder. He couldn't help it though; he needed something to balance the distance of the Abstergo staff and the fiery harshness of Daniel. But Swartz? Swartz was gentle but firm, humorous but not foolish. He was a comfort to Damon in far too many ways for such a brief span. Many things were worming their ways into his trust far too quickly…

Glazed eyes glide back into focus at the subtle rustle of clothing and well-padded shoes against the concrete of the facility. Damon knows who it is without needing to look back, stance staying passive to fool his companion. He hears another soft sound, a gentle whoosh of air being the only warning he has.

He dodges the lidded cup with ease, peering down to watch the plastic fall to its demise below with a kroosh as its contents splashed onto the ground.

"You're lucky that was complimentary, dipshit!" Daniel snarls, crossing his arms as the jacket clad man turns to meet his eyes. Fuck, there's that stupid grin again; the one that says Daniel isn't scaring him one bit with his hidden threats and harsh words.

"Awe, sweet talk me some more Cross." Daniel bares his teeth in a wordless response. Damon tips his head just a tad to fully acknowledge his presence. "'Sides, I thought you hated fountain drinks."

"It wasn't soda, it was tea."

"Pfft, you were drinking tea?" He mocked in light disbelief that someone so rigid and hard like Daniel would drink tea of all things. But they seemed to always be surprising one another.

"Shut the fuck up I drink what I want." Damon still doesn't turn to his more experienced partner, but he can still see the notch of his shoulders that signals he's grinning.

"The hell are you doing up here anyway? You're usually playing house with Swartz." Damon ignores the insult, pivoting around fast enough to make him stumble towards the edge a tad. Daniel tries to ignore the awful twinge of dread he feels until Damon is righted again. He convinces himself that it'd be expensive to repair him for a second time, it's absolutely nothing sentimental. Natta.

"Thinking, mostly." A scoff is what he earns for such a cliché answer.

"Right, looking over a five story drop is how all normal people get the wheels turning." He's genuinely surprised when Damon drops down from his little ledge, coming close enough to Daniel that he can see that little nick of a scar. The close proximity is becoming ever so slowly more familiar. They're far from 'bro hugs' and friendly shoves, but Daniel no longer feels the urge to shove Damon ten feet away at the sight of him.

"You know, I've never seen you smile 'til now." The fuck? There's an awkward silence accompanied by the comment, the older Templar at a loss for words at the gentle statement. But the shock wears off and Daniel non-committed brushes by the tan, giving him a not so friendly smack to the head. Damon doesn't react to the light blow, his body quite used to Daniel's random spouts of abuse. Whether it be verbally or physically, he had a retaliation plan. Daniel was starting to develop the habit of looking over his shoulder after giving a blow to Desmond. The young man was patient. That was dangerous.

"You should do that more often."

"What? Hit you? You got some secret kink I should know about?"

"Psh, like I'd share that with you. I meant smiling you cynic." Damon steps a few feet away, building a lazy stroll around the area that has become a sort of sanctuary.

"I smile plenty."

"That demonic grin of yours doesn't count." It was more satanic, but Damon didn't feel like getting pushed off the building.

"You little-"

"Shit, yeah I know. You're not so scary when you actually look human." Damon dodges the flying foot wear with ease, his own devious smirk stretching his lips as Daniel tromps to retrieve his boot. He hated this part of the dead assassin, the brazen humor that ate at his insides with anger. But he didn't admire the other side of him, the freshly awoken Damon.

It appeared toying with someone's memories only got rid of certain qualities; it didn't give you a fresh slate to carve at your will. There would always be scratches and dents left from previous use, and you had to make do with what you got. Admittedly though, this stubborn and snarky blend of two irritating sides- one absolutely spineless and doubtful of every move others made, mixed with that slight smug, overly laid back ghost- created someone quite tolerable…on a certain level that is.

Damon was much more entertaining with a daily sharpening tongue and a sliver of loyalty to the Templar position.

He was getting better; with everything. And he showed promise as more than just another recruit plucked from the streets.

"I'm flattered at your attention, but I came to get your dumb off ass this roof." Damon raised an eyebrow at the sudden change of subject, hands cradled in the pockets of his blood red jacket.

"Oh? Thought maybe you were attempting to flirt with me." He dodges the angry hand that aims for his head, cackling as he escapes Daniels flailing fit only to feel a strong arm loop around his neck. He continued to snicker no matter how intensely Daniel snarled.

"Swartz wants to talk to you downstairs. He'd had come get you himself he knew where you were." Daniel released him, practically chucking the younger towards the door. Damon merely chuckled and strolled off with a wave. That fucking kid.

Daniel pursed his lips in exhaustion; Damon was becoming exactly what Rikkin had wanted. He believed Daniel was his best friend, he believed he had been there since he was a teen…he believed everything Swartz threw at him. He sighed, curiously eyeing the area Damon had been effortlessly balancing on.

He peered over the edge and immediately regretted it, his stomach performing a flip and the air from his lungs rushing out in one gust. It wasn't quite a tumble off a porch. It was a plummet, just enough time for it to register that you would die, maybe release a scream. But it would be a quick death. You'd think all his time in the Animus would make him tolerant to heights; make him able to leap across platforms at dizzying scales.

But he hadn't been in one for years now. After he became a highly ranked member he no longer had time for sessions, and his body knew it.

He reeled back and puffed a sigh. Damon had just been standing there like it was nothing, like it wasn't obvious one misstep could happen and he was done for.

And that worried Daniel. He would need to bring it up with Swartz…

Oxo

"Ahh, there you are Mein Sohn." Swartz set his experienced hands on the sides of Damon's head, giving his experiment an affectionate smile. The younger returned it with a grin.

"Hey, Doc. Cross said you wanted something." Swartz held a finger in realization.

"Ah yes, I need to examine your ears."

"For what?" Damon non-ceremoniously set his himself onto the medical bed, the paper crunching to his weight. He watched Swartz scramble around his disastrous office like every visit, the elder muttering scolding to himself about his lack of organization.

"Why didn't Mr. Cross tell you? You two are going to the shooting range today." When Donavan turned to find the surprise and confusion on Damon face, he made a note to give Cross a good talking to. That damn man was going to have another panic attack on his hands if he wasn't truthful and careful with Damon. "I will take that as a no." Damon swallowed a lump in his throat, thinking of the brief discussions with his trainers about the parts and pieces of a gun. He had listened, but had never believed he would actually hold one, use one.

He came out of his thoughts when he felt Swartz' cool hands on his neck, and the nozzle of an otoscope invading his ear. There was silence as he inspected Damon's ears; checking their noise sensitivity, massaging the cartilage between his fingers, and like the fidgety man he was-inspected a few off chart things that concerned him.

"Well, your ears should be able to handle the noise if you wear a strong pair of ear mufflers. Your hearing is far too strong for you to go without them." He proceeded to mutter to himself of the side effects and other small issues only Swartz would honestly care about. He truly did baby Damon. There was no other definition to explain his connection to the younger; he had been there at the very front for his awakening, and made sure he was the one to keep the once dead individual stable. He made sure Damon was treated as a person, not an asset. "I'd run off now; lord knows when Cross will burst-"

"C'mon garden eyes, we're headin out." Swartz sighed in exasperation. Speak of the devil-no matter how much you hope he won't- and he shall appear. Especially a man like Cross…Swartz informed himself, tossing a glance over his shoulder as Damon slid off the medical bed.

"I know where we're going."

"I figured Swartz would tell ya. Now let's get a move on." Daniel casually booted Damon on his bottom as he passed by through the door. He couldn't help but smirk towards the series of curses thrown his way. He was stopped short in his own travel to the door by a tug on his shirt. He turned to find Swartz frowning at him, that look that meant 'watch him' in his grey eyes. He didn't respond, but grunted as he left the pristinely white office to catch up to a still seething Damon.

All Swartz did was worry.

Xoxo

BANG

He couldn't help the flinch that ruined his shot at the recoil of the gun, embarrassment heating his face as he caught Daniel dropping his head in the corner of his eye. Daniel wasn't the only one reacting to his lack of skill; a selective group of bald tattooed men snickered and taunted him under their breath. He gnawed on his bottom lip as he peered down at the weapon in his gloved hands, irritation and disappointment faltering his security towards the very public shooting range.

"It's not going to bite, Colt." Daniel sneered, rearing the embarrassment into his colleagues face. Eyes usually harboring curiosity glow with detest and humiliation.

"I know that!" Damon hissed low, dangerously toned with his face shaded a deep red. Daniel let's a 'demonic' smirk grace his lips as he watches Damon struggle with this new found intensity in his anger. He knows he shouldn't be pushing Damon so far into this emotion, having never experienced him enraged. The latter attempts to compose himself but memories of panic attack morph the sensation into an all too chillingly familiar ghost.

Breathe, he tells himself, just breathe.

But he can't get himself to remain calm as Daniel's insults suddenly began eating at him and deepening his fury- something niggling at the same spot with similar effects, something buried and unreachable. Within a second, he snarls, moving to snatch the pistol from its resting place. He snaps a single arm into the aiming position and let loose without a blink.

He doesn't even try to get his bearings as he viciously pulls the trigger, trying to keep his aim steady towards the black silhouette ahead. The anger boiling in him seems to slow after each shot, the constant rhythm of BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM muddling his sharp senses. Something inside him doesn't want to pause; something buried is fueling his fury that doesn't have anything to do with his 'friend.' He just feels this need to defy and destroy built in big bubble of hate. He doesn't stop until the clip is empty, giving a pathetic click, a thin cloud of smoke coming from the nozzle.

The board comes back riddled with bullet holes in no particular order; some were on the outskirts, others hit where the heart would be, and then an estimate of four to six holes pierced in the head of the lifeless flab. Damon wasn't sure whether to feel a massive swell of pride or a wall of shock.

He couldn't do either, not with hints of his rage still trickling in his veins. He has the urge to flex his right hand but the gun is still in his iron grip. He really isn't planning to release it quite yet. He feels relief when he finally rids his ears of the gigantic headphones, his hearing once again perfect and picking up on every noise around him.

Daniel is left stunned in the shooting range as Damon storms out, shoving the still warm weapon into his acquaintances chest. Daniel throws a glance to the group that had been more vocal a moment ago, all flabbergasted at the sudden change in attitude. Daniel hurries into a jog to reach Damon, placing the gun on the counter as he passes. The younger is gone; not in range no matter how far Daniel cranes his head in search of him.

"Damn he's fast." He mutters shoving and wiggling into the mass of people in front of him, searching for that too red hoodie that Damon took a liking too. But no sign of curses as he keeps his short stride to look nonchalant in the deep city regions of Rome.

"Too fast!" He growls, eyes skimming every human being and building they come across-until finally, a little flash of red crosses the road into a shop.

"There you are."

Daniel curled his lips into a devious smile as his prey was within his sights.

"Agh what the hell!" Damon yelps as he feels his neckline tighten around his Adams apple, the culprit whipping him around to meet severely pissed blue eyes.

"What the hell is right! Why the fuck did you run off like that? You want me to call the frickin' cops for a missing person report? Or tell Swartz I lost you? How did you even get so far so fast? I walk out the go-"Damon yanks himself out of Daniels' grip, eyes that had calmed now gleaming warningly.

"You don't need to babysit me Cross, believe or not I can take care of myself!"

"Oh ho trust me Colt, I don't believe it."

"Oh?! And why's that you-" Damon takes a wild swipe and Daniel has his hood in his grip again, that snarl in full swing, something feral in those cold, cold eyes. The words stop in Damon's throat, the anger and hatred leaking away to leave a shocked sort of awe. There was something different about it; Daniel snarls out of annoyance, or does to simply be left alone. But he seemed so frazzled at the moment, out of composure.

"You just now held and fired a gun today. You had a panic attack not even a week ago. You could barely fuckin' walk when Swartz brought you back. ' . I don't believe you can take care of yourself because I felt the same-

"excusez-moi?" Daniel stops short at the foreign voice, pointing still boiling irises towards the curious woman a few feet away.

"Puis-je vous aider?" He growls, ignoring Damon's confused glances. The woman has a strange sort of a smile on her face; uncertain, worried. She motions towards the two with a finely manicured hand and asks:

"vous avez bec d'un amant?"

And Daniels' recoiling, practically flinching from the woman's words and releasing Damon as if he burned him. Damon is left confused, that wide-eyed expression the girls at the office loved gracing his face.

"Huh? What-" Daniel is stumbling and spitting in another language. The woman seems embarrassed, covering her mouth with her hand and awkwardly responding to Daniels blabbering. The woman leaves with a light blush on her face, abandoning an even more frazzled Daniel and a confused Damon.

The younger Templar slowly comes to stand next to his colleague, noting the fresh color in his face, the man huffing breaths like an irritated bull.

"Sooo…you gonna tell me what that was about?" Daniel closes his eyes at the sound of his voice, his face contorting as if he was reminded of what just commenced.

"She…" He hesitates, some sort of shudder going through him. "…thought we were umm…" Damon carelessly smacked Daniels' chest, their anger and hatred gone from shock and curiosity.

"C'mon man spit it out!"

"She thought we were lovers." Damon's mind rears off into nothingness, a blank look crossing his face as the words process. "…and thought we were having a 'lovers' quarrel.'" Daniel's disgust shows, another shudder passing through him while Damon remains deathly silent. Daniel feels that perhaps he's finally broken Damon, and they'd have to start all over on the project again-until…

"Pffft." Icy eyes find warm green with a snap of the head, the soft green holding utter amusement, just as their host busted into a hysterical fit of laughter.

Damon keeps going, tears starting to stream down his face. Daniel is growling.

"Y-you looked like…you were going to pop a cas-"He starts again, failing to speak. "…and she just-I-I can't breathe."

Daniel stiffens, rolling his eyes as the tan continues his hysteria. "Ha-ha, laugh it up you little shit."

Damon calms, wiping the tears off his face where a shit eating grin rested. "Done?" Daniel sneers, bristling at the soft nod Damon gives.

"I'm done."

"Good. We're heading back." He stalks off without a glance, knowing Damon would follow.

But for once, he wishes he didn't.

Clothed arms link around his neck behind him, his captor leaving a millisecond long peck on his ear, the sensation too unfamiliar to not go unnoticed.

"Whatever you say, mon amour." Then the arms are gone, a flash a red flying by his victim in a fit of laughter.

"COLT, GODDAMNIT." The argument was forgotten, childish impulses leaving two grown men sprinting through the streets to their car.

Daniel got his pay back.

Damon never stopped laughing.

And for some reason that got Daniel laughing too.

I AM ALIVE : D Barely (I kid) But in making up for my absence, I give you a nice long chapter, sprinkled with a little too much humor. I promise not to do this again