Chapter 2 - Part I

Some days had passed now and living with each other - or rather next to each other - had become daily routine. In the morning - to Desmond it was always morning when he got out of the Animus, despite the real daytime - he ate something after being ordered to do so, for it was rare that he was hungry himself, and took a shower afterwards.

It was the same this time. At least he thought it would be. When he left the Animus this time though, he was alone with Shaun, who bent over him a little.

"Wha-what are you doing?", Desmond exclaimed right away, staring at him in disbelieve.

That just couldn't be. Shauns breath had the scent of mint, most probably thanks to the tea. The dark haired man blushed a bit as he realized what this position had to look like for some third person. Thanks to the angle, he couldn't even see Shauns eyes or his gaze properly, hidden behind the reflection of his glasses. The younger one swallowed hard and looked up at the Brit who took his time for an answer now. That was unusual. This much was for sure.

"What do you think I am doing, Desmond?"

His voice was a silent humming in Desmonds ears, making him shiver all over thanks to the light vibrations this timbre sent him now. Actually, he didn't want to answer that question. Because, seriously, his thoughts just had to be wrong.

It felt like they would have spent an eternity like that. Shaun being bent over Desmond, one knee supporting his weight at Desmonds side, his right arm supported his upper body and was positioned next to Dez' neck. The American was right underneath him, being stuck between awkwardness and curiosity. Then, finally, Shaun changed his position and let go of him. A moment passed in which they looked into each other's eyes, then Shauns hand that hadn't supported his body wandered downwards and revealed a screwdriver.

"I've been fixing the screen. You just proofed the worst timing again, wanting to get out of the Animus just then. What was it this time? Did Vieri tease you again?"

Shauns voice carried a smirk with it as he got up fully now, releasing Desmond by doing so. The dark haired man almost jumped out of the Animus.

"Never ever do that again, will you?", the barkeeper exclaimed right away.

With a low laugh, Shaun replied drily then: "What? Improving the Animus so it won't grill your last brain cells left? Or making you actually blush - for whatever reason?"

Desmond ignored the question at first - well, that was what he had intended to do at least - and he did his best to do so. But sometimes the best just isn't enough...

"Both! N-No, I mean- the latter! Not that..- I didn't-"

Shaun smirked again, that smart, cocky smirk that told only the truth about him anyway. He was. Both. Though, the nerd let Desmond leave without embarrassing him any further for now. These were the magical words. The next occasion was sure to come.

Desmond managed to get into the bathroom quite fast now, succeeding in shutting up this time. He locked the door twice, then he undressed rather fast. Why the fuck did that Brit turn him on? That wasn't acceptable at all! Not one bit. He wasn't gay or something! Not at all! Well... obviously a little, though.

For a moment he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Was that true? Did he really have a crush on that British bastard who acted as if Desmond would be some dumb dog? But even more important: What about the geek himself? He somehow seemed to provoke these situations. Maybe force them. Maybe-

"Desmond? Are you still in there?"

Shaun was right on the other side of the locked door. As soon as Dez realized this, he felt his heartbeat speeding up. He still hadn't answered yet.

"Desmond!" He sounded worried and alarmed now.
"Yah- Yeah, I'm okay.", he replied hastily then and looked towards the door.
"You bloody twit! What took you so bloody much time to answer!"
"I was just thinking!", Desmond defended himself now, blushing hard.
"Why, that explains it of course.", Shaun replied in his mocking tone. "Hurry, Dez."
"Shut up and create a database!", he groaned back, then - before Shaun would add how very important his role in this was - he switched the warm water on got under the beam the shower head provided him with.

His long fingers moved along the well-shaped body. Obviously being inside of the Animus somehow activated his muscles, too. He looked better than ever. Ever-ever. And felt better, too. When he was washing his body now, he couldn't help but stop at some part. The fingers slid across his loins, slowly along his member, which obviously had gotten a little excited about the Shaun-encounter. God, this just couldn't be! Shaun wasn't his type, was he? He tried to imagine him as a woman but... no. He switched back to the male Brit he was again. If poor Desmond only knew what would happen soon, he might have done more than cleaning himself and waiting for the semi-erection to go away under much cooler water.

About twenty minutes and some cold water later, Desmond got out of the bathroom again - dressed in a towel and nothing more. Not that he wouldn't have wanted to dress up - he just couldn't. Usually, Lucy had prepared fresh clothes for him, had stored them into one of the cupboards in the bathroom, but not this time. Maybe that was because she was too distracted by other things lately - god knew what things those were - and had simply forgotten about it. That was how Desmond ended up sneaking to the other bedroom he rarely slept in. Still some drops of water left traces upon the lightly tanned skin while they made their way downwards from his chest across the stomach to finally get caught by the white towel he had wrapped around his hips.

When he entered the room, he looked around first. There was not much to be seen in there: A plain metallic double bed with dark blue sheets - just so that they didn't look like those Abstergo used - with an oak wooden nightstand next to it and some small lamp on it and the matching wardrobe on the other side of the room. That was exactly where he intended to go. Still with bare feet he sneaked closer, as if he would expect someone to catch him by anything! There was nothing wrong with getting dressed, was there? When he reached the dresser and opened the door by sliding it to one side, he saw something in the reflection of the black glass that was embedded into the wood, just in the second he slid it aside. Right away he slid it back and in the next moment he was pressed up against the wood, feeling a body right behind him. There was one hand at his nape, the other one right above of his bottom on the skin of his lower back. He could smell mint again when the breath of the Brit brushed his ear.

"Desmond.."

The voice was soft but teasing and made him shiver by the mere sound of his name being spoken by him.

"Wha-? Shaun... get off me...!", he said, but earned nothing but a low, dark chuckle at his ear.

The hand at his back moved upwards a little and traced the spine of the barkeeper, slowly wandering up, then down again, applying light pressure against it. Without even noticing, Desmond arched his back and moved his butt against the bulge hidden in those dark trousers of Shaun. The Brit's fingers ran through Desmond's hair as he bit his ear lobe, then he grabbed the dark strands of hair and pulled his head back.

"Do you really want me to?"

Desmond knew the answer, but bit down on his lip instead of saying it. Again there was his name at his ear, lowly groaned this time. The Briton's tone was almost a little needy now, desperate. Obviously, he had been waiting for this since quite some time now.

"Desmond." Again this voice while he pushed him harder against the dresser.

Then he opened his eyes again. Right above of him was Shaun, looking down at his face.

"Bloody twit! I've been calling your name for five whole minutes now!"
"Wha-? What? What happened?" The confusion was obvious.
"You tell me! Never lock the door twice again. Well, if it is lockable again, that is."

Now the American looked over to the door. Obviously someone had broken the lock to get inside. Obviously that someone was Shaun. Just now Desmond realized that he was naked underneath the fully dressed Brit, who followed Dez' gaze down to his again semi-erected member. A smirk showed up on the lips of the redhead and for a second he could have bet there was a slight glisten in his eyes, but that might just as well have been because of the reflection of the glasses.

"It seems like you had had some nice dream.", the Brit commented and got up now. "Watch the floor better next time - unless you want to lose more brain cells again by falling again." Shaun moved to the door and got outside. "Hurry, Desmond - I used the time to actually prepare fresh food."

And just then Desmond reconstructed in his mind what had happened: He had been showering and when he got out of the shower he slipped on the floor and hit his head at the sink which sent him to some nice dream.. ..Nice? Wait.. what was that again?

At least he managed to distinguish between dream and reality now. But just how had this come to his sub-consciousness?