Well this took me a little bit longer than anticipated to get uploaded, but thank you Computer Graphics class for having an easy week of no projects, and a two hour final exam day. I still have a good hour of class left, which I guess means I can write more of chapter 4 or so. For this chapter, I present to you more fluff, yay fluff.

And to Kan in the reviews: Don't worry my friend, Ezio shows up eventually. Write all the assassins?

Disclaimer: AC series belongs to Ubisoft, yay.

Connor left for his trip a few days later. Between now and his arrival, Desmond had been given a crash course in "Taking Care of Two Jackasses 101". He had been preparing most of their meals, had already done the laundry once, and was forced to leave some dirty underwear lying around for a day. All just random ass shit to make the boys get used to the fact that he wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

Malik's behavior toward him had yet to improve though. The one-armed Syrian was still incredibly hostile towards him, Desmond was scared of him. Altaïr could make the man melt into a puddle on the floor, and he tolerated Connor to a point. His bark was a lot worse than his bite, and he was constantly ordering Connor to do this, do that, get me this, fetch me that. He was just a lazy bully, Desmond couldn't figure out how anyone put up with it.

But for Desmond, Malik wouldn't stop growling at him until he was told to shut up or Desmond left the room. Every time they were so much as within an arm's length of each other, Malik would snarl and take a swipe at him like an angry cat. His theatrics never ceased, no one dared to really tell him off or actually make him stop, stop. Desmond kept hoping Altair would say something about it, but it didn't seem like he cared.

The other Syrian actually found it funny, grinning like a jackal while Malik lashed out at him with that whip in his mouth Malik called a tongue. Finally on the day before Connor left, the brown-haired Syrian said something, waiting until Malik stalked away after a tirade to reach up and squeeze Desmond's shoulder comfortingly.

"Do not take what he says to heart, cousin. He is just agitated and stressed right now, he is not a fan of change" Altair reassured, giving him a weak smile.

"Huh, funny, he acts like he totally hates me" Desmond huffed.

"Mm, maybe. It probably does not help you look just like me" the other man laughed, a full grin on his face. Desmond frowned at him, that wasn't very damn helpful. "Don't look so down, cousin. He didn't like me either when we first met" he added, ruffling Desmond's short hair before moving off to look for mate. That, Desmond never expected to hear. There was no way in hell those two were not madly in love something. They did everything together, practically attached at the hip; Malik ever hate Altaïr? As if.

The day Connor did was a bit dreadful in the beginning. All his bags were packed, all the chores were done for the time being, and the man had a damn bus to catch. Yet Altaïr and Malik managed to delay him with petty, stupid, and utterly random requests to eat up his time. Desmond didn't want to see him go either, but this was ridiculous; they simply didn't want the survivalist to go.

Somehow Desmond managed to to pry Connor away from them long enough to shove him inside the truck. The look on the boys' faces when the door closed and locked was priceless. They had their best begging faces on, sitting by the barn and staring sadly at Connor as if their dejected attitudes would keep him from going. But Connor wasn't fooled, sticking his hand out the window to wave them goodbye. As they began to pull away from the farm, Desmond watched Altair howl in frustration in the review mirror, and a second later they heard it.

Connor was only going away for a few weeks, not forever. Desmond kept expecting one of the boys to come racing after them and somehow stop the truck from going anywhere; take it apart and rip it to shreds maybe. But they never showed, guess Connor wasn't going to be missed that badly after all.

The boring ride through town was still just as boring. The cop from a couple days ago passed them but didn't pull them over again. Instead, the cop followed them all the way to the bus depot; Desmond found it incredibly creepy and insane. Once there, Connor's goodbye was short, he was already running late. He reminded Desmond of all the rules, don't let the boys out in town unsupervised, don't let them kill anyone, yadda yadda yadda. The younger assassin all but shoved him onto the bus and soon enough, he was on his own.

His first order of business as caretaker for two insane wolf-men was a rather annoying talking to by the cop that was obsessed with following them around. He was one of those gung-ho, "my way or the highway" type of guys, and he made it quite clear that he had zero tolerance for the boys' constant "antics".

"You! You're the one in charge for Kenway" the cop stated. Well obviously he was.

"Yup" Desmond nodded.

"Son, let's get a few things straight here. I don't like Kenway, I don't like La-ah-aad, I don't like Aal-say-if, and I don't like you. What's your name, boy?"

"Miles. Desmond Miles"

"Well Miles, I especially don't like you"

"Wha-...What?"

"You're lookin after the bastards, ain't ya?"

"Yes but I-"

"I. Don't. Like. You. Comprendo?"

This guy was unbelievable.

"Yes, sir" Desmond grumbled. Satisfied, the cop left him alone after that.'Goddamn! First Malik's on my case, now this chump?' he thought, annoyed as hell. This whole town would be on him before he knew it, with the way that cop was strutting about. The guy already knew what he was here for, who else in town had their noses in Connor's and the boys' business?

The barn door was open wide when he got back. Desmond had yet to go in, quite liking the current state of his body being in one solid piece. But he strode towards it anyway with only little fear. After all, he had a sweet surprise for the poor boys, surely they wouldn't mind him trespassing if he a brought a peace offering, right? They had been so down earlier, so he took a trip to the store to pick up some snacks and then some. A little chocolate might be just the thing to perk 'em up. It hadn't killed them before, so a little more now shouldn't be too bad.

Inside, the barn was filled with piles of hay, beaten up mattresses, and a couch shoved in there. If they were college kids, this place easily could have been a sweet pad or something, maybe like a mini bar and a pool table. Connor never told him what the boys exactly did in here, but Desmond suspected they either came in here to get their wolf on, or fuck.

Right now they weren't doing anything, stretched out on a hay covered mattress. It was probably one of the few times he saw them relatively immobile; it was nearly impossible for them to sit still. But for whatever reason, they felt like playing dead, save for the rise and fall of the rise and fall of their chests. Desmond open his mouth to say something, but was beaten to the punch before he could utter a sound.

"What do you want, cousin?" Altaïr asked without really looking at him.

"Uh well, though you guys seemed a bit blue. So uh...got ya something at the store. Um...hold on" Desmond answered, rummaging through the bag for their treat. The Syrians stared at him indifferently, yet almost curiously; what did he get them? He found what he was looking for, a couple Hershey bars. Their whole moods changed instantly, suddenly sitting up straight, eyes wide; if they had tails they would surely be wagging.

Grinning, Desmond tossed the chocolate bars at them and quickly retreated from the barn. The sound of snarling and relieved whimpers when they managed to rip the packaging apart to eat the chocolate inside followed him all the way to the house; they were damn happy about it. Probably didn't totally get him on their good side, but brownie points never hurt anyone.

Besides, he had bought a little extra at the store that would hopefully appease them. Once inside the house and into the kitchen, Desmond pulled out a few boxes of Cheerios and set them on top of the refrigerator. Connor said not to give them anything sweet to eat, but these were plain old Cheerios, surely that was an exception to the rule. And...Desmond liked a bowl of cereal in the morning, so there was that too.

Perhaps the real gem of his shopping expedition was the Lactaid milk he had bought. This was that special kind of milk for people were lactose intolerant. Connor also said don't give them milk, it makes them sick. So Desmond did some research the other night, and found that this kind of milk was perfect. They were like cats in this sense; cats couldn't have actual cow milk either, contrary to popular belief.

Success though, he had solved the breakfast dilemma. Cereal was quick and easy to make, and you could do it with one hand. He couldn't remember the last time he had ever felt so brilliant.

Malik couldn't sleep that night. Most nights he was pretty restless as it was, but tonight was just terrible for him. Connor had barely been gone twelve hours, yet he already missed the other man. He wasn't a fan of changed, hated when something new came along to disrupt what had become "normal" in his godforsaken life.

Like the pup, that was a big change he wouldn't mind smiting off the face of this planet. The pup reminded Malik of Altair too much before it happened. That cocky, over-confidence in himself and utter stupidity that made him want to rip his hair out, gah! And ooh how they looked alike, talked alike, did everything alike. It was like they were one person split in two!

Malik didn't like that.

There was only room for one overbearing bastard in this house, and that was Altaïr; His Altaïr. Of all the members in the Brotherhood, they had to pick the pup. Malik would rather have that flirtatious cock, Ezio, here than a puppy. He hated strangers on his territory, and hated when they didn't leave, and hated how they strutted about, and...and...Well, he hated a lot of things.

And the smell strangers had on them, good grief! Malik wasn't kidding a few days back when he said the pup reeked; he really, really did. Desmond's scent was close to Altaïr's, but it carried the tang of steel and asphalt, of smog and grease. Too many unnatural smells at once, it drove him absolutely crazy. Sitting next to the dumb kid irritated the hell out of him to no end; he seriously needed a bath or new clothes or something!

It would still be a long time still until the scents of the city washed away and replaced with that of the country. The tang of the city would never go away though; it would remain on him for long as he lived most likely. It was just a birth scent of sorts, that one smell that followed you everywhere no matter where you lived. It was what Malik liked to call it, to think as he could still get that hint of the desert of his and Altaïr's skin. The desert...it smelled like home.

Despite hating change, Malik would kill to move to another state, preferably Nevada or Arizona. Those were desert states of sand, wind, and heat. He found the area of Apperton to be too cold, too green, too everything he never grew up around. Five years and he still had yet to fully adjust to America, three for the curse on him.

He suddenly felt very homesick. Growling in frustration, he rolled over to his other side, facing a sleeping Altaïr. His mate had learned a long time ago that Malik was a restless thing most nights and could now sleep through whatever he dished out. Usually he didn't mind, but now Malik really wanted his mate awake with him; how dare he sleep on like that!

"Habibi" Malik murmured, shifting closer to the other male, burying his face into a tanned chest. Inhaling deeply, he could smell grass and dirt of his mate's skin, hay and cotton. There was chocolate from earlier today (the pup was good for something after all), traces of arousal and sex from earlier that day as well, sweat and musk. The slightest hint of blood and fur, the traces of their other halves.

And beneath all that, there was that scent of home, of Altaïr. Grit and sand, hot wind and familiar spices. Malik practically melted, having that smell swirl into his nose. It was not just familiar, but comforting and safe, like home was supposed to be. "Habibi" he murmured again, resting his chin on that chest. Beneath the sound of blood rushing and muscles bunching, Malik listened to the quiet inhale and exhale of lungs, the steady beat of his mate's heart thumping along.

Altair's breathing changed, signaling that he was awake at last. Malik whined into his chest, rubbing his cheek against it. A hand came up and buried itself into his hair, fingers scratching at his scalp. He pressed up into that hand, and if he had his tail, it would surely be wagging. A chuckle rumbled in Altair's throat, but the man was otherwise silent.

"I couldn't sleep" Malik mumbled, the hand in his hair stilling before moving again to pet him.

"So I can tell" Altair replied, pushing Malik off him so he could sit up. "What's keeping you up this time?"

"Not sure" Mailk shrugged. Multiple things really, but he could not exactly pinpoint what was bothering him the most.

"So because you are not able to sleep, you're making me suffer with you by waking me up, right?" Altair grumbled, frowning at him.

"Hey, if I cannot sleep, neither should you" Mailk said with a smirk. His mate snorted disbelievingly, lying back down to attempt to resume sleeping. Malik whacked him.

"What the hell, Malik!" the other man snarled at him, shooting back up with bristling hackles.

"Stay up with me" the one-armed Syrian snapped, a steady growl rising from him. They sat and stared at each other, growling into the other's face. In a matter of seconds they exploded into action. They bit and scratched at each other like cats, howled and grappled like dogs, and fought with the intensities of two great demons. They rolled around their small nest of pillows and blankets, tangled together in a furious ball of anger and power.

They slammed into the walls, the doors, backs slapping hard against the hardwood floor. It was amazing how they managed to keep from breaking anything or tearing a new hole in the house. Extensive damage was reserved for their bodies only.

Malik loved these fights, layering scratches and bites on to his mate's skin. Hey may be minus an arm, but his ferocity and strength were great, easily making up for it. Sometimes he liked to think he was stronger than Altair because his other half had to work twice as hard to compensate. Whatever the case was, he was a force not to be reckoned with.

The fight for power changed when Mailk found himself nestled on Altair's legs, his mate writhing madly to try and buck him off. If Malik could purr, he would have been doing just that; seeing his mate like this was just too good. Whether Altair let himself get pinned or not, he's never say. But oh how Malik loved seeing the cocky bastard beneath him, like this. Chest heaving, body taut, amber eyes aglow with adrenaline. Sweat poured out from every possible pore on his body, and fresh wounds turned into scratches, to scars, to normal skin within seconds.

So saddening, knowing their testaments of their power struggles would never be shown off to the world. One day though, Malik would find a way to leave his mark on
Altair, a permanent one to show all who the eagle turned wolf really belong to.

All he could do now was sneer at the form beneath him, triumph dancing in his dark eyes. God knew how much he adored this sense of dominance that rose in his chest. The sense kept rising within him until it burst from his mouth in the form of a howl. Even in his human form, his howls still sounded so wolf-like, so feral yet beautiful. It was a short, sweet song that he knew even the coyotes on the hillside could hear. Everyone needed to hear, to listen to the current head alpha spin his tale of victory. Grinning like a mad fool, he stared down at his mate, staring right back at him with lidded eyes.

"Have I ever told you that you have the loveliest voice I have ever heard?" Altair asked in a silky tone. Malik flushed, he never did compliments like that well. With a dark laugh,
Altair reached up to grapple the back of Malik's head, pulling him down so their lips would crash together. It was all over for them after that.

Desmond stared up at the ceiling blankly, pillow wrapped around his head. But that simply wasn't enough to block out all the noise the boys were making in their room right across the hall. They were fighting earlier and that was a god awful racket all on its own that was impossible to sleep through.

It was loud enough to scare him awake at first, then it gradually became annoying and god how he wished they'd shut the hell up already. Then it got somewhat quiet and Desmond thought he could go back to sleep; until someone started howling, very well almost making himself piss his pants (thankfully he didn't). Then they…

Oh he knew what they were doing now, but didn't want to think about it. If only his Mp3 player had a live battery, he could at least try and block them out that way. Just anything else to listen to instead of the sound of the boys fucking each other.

Grumbling, Desmond let go of one side of his pillow to reach for his cellphone. Flipping it open, the screen illuminated the room. Through squinted eyes, he read two-thirty one a.m. on the internal clock. Two. Thirty-one. A.M. He had barely been asleep for three hours and he was stuck being awake again.

With a groan, he tossed the phone aside, slapping his hand over his eyes. It was going to be a long night.

This is actually probably my shortest chapter yet. Funny because it takes up about twelves pages in my notebook. Hm. Well, do your usual thing I suppose, you know it works. Thanks for reading guys, you're all awesome!

Safety and pace, brothers and sisters.