Oh my gosh, people are actually reading this. Thank you guys, thank you. Welp, here it is, chapter 2. I really took my sweet time to type this up, so at last here it is!

Disclaimer: Ubisoft owns all these characters.

Notes: Contain some M/M fluff. Just fair warning anyway, don't act surprised.

Desmond had never met Malik Al-Sayf before, so it wasn't like he could tell if the man would like or him; or just want to rip his throat out. Soon after the small tour of the house concluded, he and Connor had gone back downstairs to find Altaïr and a man he was unfamiliar with next to him.

Or rather on top of him. The two were a tangle of limbs amongst the pillow, the sight somewhat adorable perhaps if they weren't two of the most dangerous beings on this side of the Mississippi. Or when Desmond walked in, one of them immediately started growling at him. He froze like a deer caught in the headlights, staring wide-eyed at him.

Malik was around Altaïr's size, a tad stockier, dark hair with darker eyes. Stubbly little chin hair, a tan that put supermodels to shame, and muscle. Lots and lots of hard muscle. Since they both didn't wear shirts, it was easy to see them rippling beneath their skin. It was like the beast inside was threatening to break out and run amok.

The skin itself was flawless. No scars, birthmarks, tattoos, nothing. Despite the wrappings around the stump that was Malik's left arm, Desmond doubted there was anything there that needed to be hidden. Hell, the scars that were once on Altaïr's body earlier had yet to make a reappearance. It was like the condition erased otherwise permanent affliction, leaving behind perfection (though it didn't seem like it re-grew limbs*).

But the condition also made them aggressive and hostile. To hear Malik growl like that, it made him shudder. That was the sound animals made when they were about to attack, not a sound people should ever utter. Desmond had merely walked in to the room, they were even waiting for him, and yet he had a two hundred pound predator growling at him.

"Malik, will you chill the fuck out already?" Connor scolded the one-armed man as he came down the stairs behind him. The growls ceased, but didn't mean the instigator was happy about it.

"Good God, look at him! How can I when there's another Altaïr parading about? This is what they sent us? This is our caretaker" Malik all but spat the last word, glaring at Desmond with unmasked displeasure. "You can smell the fear and weakness off him, he reeks of it! Is this honestly what the Brotherhood has working for them these days? I wouldn't be scared of this pup if he came at me with a plastic butter knife!"

Desmond's jaw nearly hit the floor; that was unexpected. 'What the hell is his problem?' the young assassin thought. He picked his mouth up long enough to try and at least defend himself, but Malik waved his hand dismissively.

"Don't even bother, pup. I longer I don't have to listen to your rubbish, the better. You have nothing intelligent to say to me anyway"

His mouth slammed shut, eyes wide with disbelief. He glanced at Altaïr and Connor for help, but they didn't look like they were about to jump in and save him. The former had himself wrapped around Malik's torso, face buried in the back of his neck; he really didn't care about what was going on. The latter wasn't even looking at them, he didn't care either!

Desmond was utterly alone; he was his only defense against Malik's tirade. The fucking fuck!

"Connor, go and take the this pup out of my sight, I don't even want to see him until I have absolutely have to" Mailk ordered, turning his head back to nuzzle Altaïr's face. Connor nodded and ushered Desmond out of the room, herding him into the kitchen. He pulled the screen aside, shutting the area off from the rest of the living room.

"What the fuck was that about?" Desmond demanded, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at the other man.

"What do you think?"

"What do I think? I think that was rude and uncalled for! What's that guy's problem? I hardly walk into the room and he's already on my case! On top of that, you and Altaïr were no help! What the hell man?"

"Desmond," Connor sighed. "That's just how it works. Malik has always been a prick, even before he changed. All of that was normal, okay? He and Altaïr are alpha. When they speak, you shut your ass and listen. You're the new pup. You stay here, you're part of the pack. They'll pick on you the entire time you're here, it's just what they do"

"But what about you?"

"I've been with them long enough to get most of the heat off me. They still boss me around; I can't tell them to stop though. I do that, they'll kick my ass"

"But-"

"But nothing. Don't try to reason with them, at all. They don't think human most of the time. They eat, sleep, fuck, hunt, and throw their weight around, it's just what they do. Get used to it"

Desmond didn't have much of a choice, he was stuck here anyway.

They weren't particularly picky eaters, but Connor told him that so long as meat was on their plate, they'd eat it. It didn't matter what kind of meat either, or how it was (or wasn't) cooked. As long as it was part of their meal, they would be fine.

"See, they won't really eat much of anything else. Most things make them sick to begin with, so you have to be careful about what you give them. To get them to eat something like…mmm…vegetables, just grind it in with their meat. Serving veggies alone won't work. Malik will ignore it and Altaïr will throw it at you. Uh..be careful with that" Connor explained, pulling out some ground beef from the fridge; Desmond helped him get the food all prepared. He wasn't much of a cook, mixing cocktails was his specialty, but he doubted he'd be giving the boys anything alcoholic.

"Just remember, no sugary cereal crap, or cake, or anything with cream in it, but mostly no. Sugar. Trust me, you do not want to clean up werewolf vomit. Mostly because you don't want to find out what they ate last" Connor added, giving him a hard, stern look.

Desmond wouldn't even dream of it. But there went breakfast, what was he gonna eat every morning? Bacon and eggs? Sure that sounded good and all, but even he would get sick of that after a while. And why did he have to miss out, it was Altaïr and Mailk who couldn't have any of that, not him. For big and scary legends of old, they couldn't really do much. From what Desmond had already seen, they just had major anger issues and overly sensitive senses. Oh, and the habit of turing into a fucking wolf every full moon, there was that too.

Still, Desmond never imagined himself mashing peas and corn into ground beef and cooking it. This is what his life had really become in less than five hours, a servant. Wonderful.

As he slapped the meat on a pan on the stove and began to heat it, a whole 'nother problem presented itself, keeping the boys out of the kitchen while he was cooking in there. Something scratched and thumped at the screen making it rattle. Desmond paused in his work to stare at it, almost expecting the screen to be torn apart.

"Keep going, ignore it" Connor said over his shoulder, busy with his own food preparations. Nodding, Desmond tried to focus back on the meat, but the scratching at the screen never ceased. He didn't get it, it was just a wall of fucking plastic, how hard was it to break it down?

Or, just opening it? It took one of them a while, but eventually a hand pushed part of the screen aside, and Altaïr stuck his face in, his nostrils flaring. Desmond was reminded of the scene from Jurassic Park when the T-Rex stuck its face inside the car looking for those kids. Big predator searching for his prey, that sort of thing. Except his prey was hamburger meat and the only thing standing between him and it was Desmond...

"Out"

shhhhhhk

Altaïr snarled as the spray of water hit his face, sharp canines bared menacingly. But he retreated, pulling back and whimpering all the way back into the living room proper (and most likely straight to Mailk). Desmond blinked, then glanced back at Connor. The other man had a spray bottle in hand. "Altaïr hates water. You want him to leave you alone, get him wet. It doesn't work on Malik though, it just pisses him off, he'll try to break your arm" he explained, tossing the bottle back onto the counter. Oh yeah, like Desmond would want to make the two hundred pound wolf-man mad. He'd keep that in mind.

Dinner went smoothly, he supposed. The boys really did eat like animals, faced buried in their plates, tearing at their meat. Desmond had feared they wouldn't like it, toss it across the room or throw it at him, decide he would be a better meal. But no they didn't; they ate it right up and licked their plates clean. That was good, right? It was probably a good sign then.

"Not bad, pup, that meal was almost satisfactory" Malik sneered ar him, lounging back into the pillows with Altaïr. Desmond felt that fear plummet into dread. No, Malik obviously hadn't enjoyed it at all. He wanted to scream in frustration as there was just no pleasing this guy! "Connor, please try and teach him how to prepare my food properly, it's such a hassle going out to catch something when this buffoon messes up a dish" Malik added, glaring at Desmond the entire time.

He clenched his teeth and glared right back, their gazes locking. As much as it frightened him, Desmond refused to break eye contact with the dark haired Syrian. Maliks' eyes were dark and hard, unnerving and petrifying. The longer he stared, a feeling of being hunted rose up inside of him. Desmond trembled under the gaze of such a beast, he was mere prey before him yet nothing was stopping from trying to win this stare off.

"I think that's enough, Desmond" Altaïr broke their silent match, scratching idly at his neck. "It wouldn't hurt to learn some manners too, eh?" he went on, throwing him a look. Desmond finally backed down, looking away so he wouldn't have to deal with both of them.

"Yeah? What happens if I don't then?" he retorted without looking at them.

"I'll make you learn" came the growling reply. Fair enough then.

"Threat acknowledged, shutting up now" he said quickly, and did just that. So far he had done a terrific job of probably pissing them both off and it was only his first night here.

Fuck.

It was obvious that Altair and Malik really didn't take shit from anyone, and if you valued your life, shut up and listen or die. Desmond didn't think they'd actually try to hurt him, but better safe than sorry and all that. Plus, pissing anyone off in the Brotherhood was always a bad idea. It wasn't like they knew how to kill you six ways from Sunday or anything.

The rest of the night went by almost uneventfully and eventually Connor herded him back upstairs to his room to unpack.

"Make sure you leave your door open, let your scent mingle in with the rest of the house. The more you smell like home, the better" he was told and the survivalist left him after that. Unpacking was pretty boring on its own, stuffing clothing into drawers and tossing the contents of his pockets onto a little nightstand next to the bed. And then down in the depths of his bag, Desmond found a Snickers bar. He had totally forgotten that it was in here, score!

Desmond ripped it open to see if he could eat it and, aha, what luck, he could! The smell of chocolate was so good, why hadn't he eaten this earlier? He was about to take a bite when a thumping sound echoed throughout the house. Pausing, Desmond wondered what on earth the noise was, when suddenly Altair appeared in the doorway. He stared at him, wondering how the hell he got up here so fast, was about to ask him too, but before he even got a chance, woosh, he found himself flat on the bed; Altair's form bouncing out of the room.

It took him about ten seconds to realize his candy was gone from his hand, another fifteen to get off his ass, and a fully thirty to barrel out of the room and down the stairs. Jumping the last few steps, Desmond got down there only to see that his Snickers bar was no longer re-claimable. The wrapper was in shreds on the floor, and the boys were snarling as they tried to wrestle the candy bar from the other's mouth.

With a great pull, the Snickers bar broke in half and the boys were tearing into their respective pieces of candy. With that, they totally changed. One moment they looked ready to kill, but now they had blissful looks upon their faces as if the chocolate was the best thing they had ever eaten. But Desmond didn't care about how happy they were, that was his damn candy!

"Guys" Desmond whined at them, kneeling down to pick up the remains of the wrapper. "Not cool, that was mine"

"Yes, was yours" Altair replied between bites and chews, shooting him a very smug look.

"Again, not cool" Desmond repeated, turning tail and trudging back up the stairs. But who would have thunk it, werewolves like freaking chocolate. Or it was just them desperate for something other than meat. That was the key to their good sides perhaps? Buy them candy? 'Wait a minute...Isn't chocolate poisonous to animals?' he wondered, shivering at the thought of possibly doing in Altair and Malik from a candy bar.

Hopefully they would still be alive in the morning.

I think Malik is my favorite to write~