Notes: Writing this chapter was fun. And I can't help but imagine the two of them stumbling through love like it's the most confusing thing in the world. Then again, it probably is for them. Also, Haytham just likes to see people squirm, I think. Like some kind of sadistic little quirk, or something. Lmfao.

Chapter 10: Don't Sleep Alone

Haytham paced the length of his office like a caged animal. Had he managed to offend Shay earlier? Was that why he hadn't returned? And that, right there, was half the problem. Haytham had next to no experience to go on as far as real, adult relationships were concerned. There had only ever been Ziio. ...And that one Earl's daughter in London, but that had been one week, an utter travesty, and Haytham would be completely content to erase it from his memory. He'd torn the pages out of his journal years ago, after all. That, of course, was not to say that he was naïve or a virgin – by any means. However, truth be told, he wasn't very interested in emotional attachment. It wasn't something he really thought about, or particularly cared for. Sex, he only saw as an itch that needed to be scratched on occasion, nothing more. Irritably, Haytham glanced out the window at the darkening sky.

Shay hadn't returned yet, as far as he was aware. Haytham fought the urge to go looking for him with every last shred of self control he had. He resumed pacing the office, stopping once in a while to go over things he might have missed in his unending daily regimen of paperwork. When he heard the clock in the hall chime eleven times, still with no sign of Shay, Haytham's resolve finally snapped and he headed down the stairs. He'd drag him back to Fort Arsenal by his ankles if he had to. Really, how much it would take to get Shay to trust him? They way he kept every other human being he knew at least an arm's length was driving Haytham up a wall. He ran right into Shay as he hurried toward the door in the main hall.

"Where the bloody Hell have you been?" Haytham barked, not even thinking to apologize.

"Where are you goin'? Is somethin' wrong?" Shay asked at the same time. Both of them just stared at each other for a moment, in a horribly awkward silence. Shay was the first to speak, casting his eyes downward to the ornate Persian carpet on the floor beneath them.

"Sorry I made you worry, Sir." He said sheepishly. "I forget sometimes that normal folks aren't quite as nocturnal as I tend t'be."

"You need to get more sleep, Shay. Forcing yourself to keep going until you pass out is hardly healthy." Haytham told him, his expression softening. Haytham couldn't help but think that he'd just had a lesson on what it feels like to be a parent with a child out too late for comfort. ...Not that there was anything childish about Shay, and he was more than capable of handling any trouble that came his way.

"You know that isn't easy for me." Shay muttered somewhat uncomfortably.

"Then don't sleep alone." Haytham leaned in close and whispered in his ear. It was silly, but he didn't want to say it too loudly. The smug look on Church's face earlier had been torture, not to mention the way Gist started giggling and burst into hysterics the second he managed to slink out of Haytham's office. No, he didn't need to deal with their antics when he was still trying to make sense of it on his own. ...And that was just them being a bunch of bloody immature idiots without there being any evidence to suggest that there was something real between him and Shay. But there was, and Haytham knew that he wouldn't find any answers by fighting it. At least he knew Shay hadn't asked him his opinion of such relations based on a mere coincidence. No. Shay wanted him, but had the tact (or masochism) to keep his desires to himself. If nothing else, Haytham knew how to read people, and he was sure the suggestion would be a welcome one.

"I...! Wait. What?!" Shay stammered, eyes wide.

"You heard me." Haytham hissed. "I am not saying it again. Your room or mine?"

"Christ..." Shay breathed, and shook his head. "Who're you, and what'd you do with Haytham?"

"Fine. Your room. Go." Haytham nearly growled.

"My room." Shay nearly squeaked and hurried up the stairs without another word.

Haytham watched him go and wondered, for what he knew wouldn't be the last time, what the bloody hell was wrong with him. What was this feeling in his chest that contorted like someone had driven a dagger through him, when he saw Shay struggling with his demons? And why did all sense of logical thought abandon him when Shay, most likely unconsciously, gave him that look that was equal parts pleading and affectionate? Haytham just wanted to rip his hair out and claw at the walls in frustration.

Instead, he meandered to his own room. He sat at the writing desk near the window overlooking the courtyard, and pulled his journal out of the drawer in his nightstand. With a sigh, he opened it to the newest entry and dipped his pen in the inkwell. Neatly, he dated the top of the page and let the tip of the pen hover above the paper as he tried to put words to the confusing tangle of thoughts in his mind. A drop of ink dripped from the nib, leaving an unsightly blot where he'd meant to write. He heard the clock in the hall chime twelve times, and he dropped the pen on the desk in defeat. Maybe tomorrow he would be able to find the words.

Feeling strangely nervous, he gathered his nightclothes and made his way to Shay's room. As he walked the empty halls, he said a silent prayer not to run into the others. Haytham had been too young to ever sneak out of his parent's house to bed a woman, but he imagined it would feel something like this if he had. ...All apprehension and desperate hope not to be caught. Though, he doubted that was what Shay wanted at the moment.

Unsurprisingly, Haytham found Shay sitting at his own desk staring at a naval chart with a blank look on his face. He wasn't focusing on it at all; that much was obvious. He turned around immediately when Haytham strode in through the open door. Haytham pulled the door shut behind him, making sure to turn the lock, and sat on the edge of the bed nearest Shay. Wordlessly, Shay put out the flame of the single oil lamp that was sitting on the desk in front of him.

"I just want to know one thing," Shay asked quietly as he got up from the chair. "Are you doin' this just for my sake, or because you actually want to?"

Haytham scoffed and moved over so Shay could climb into the bed beside him. "A little bit of both, truth be told. It started out as a plan to try to save you from yourself because I was concerned for you, but I wandered off the proper path ages ago. I would be lying if I told you it made a lick of sense to me. If someone had told me a few months ago that I would find myself in your bed, I might have shot them. Now, well, I am trying to figure it out as I go along." He replied thoughtfully.

"But d'you want this?" Shay pressed, hesitantly. Haytham sighed in annoyance, somewhat grateful that the darkness wouldn't allow Shay to see him rolling his eyes.

"Do you honestly believe I would be here right now if I did not?" Haytham told him flatly and gently Shoved him down against the bed. He went without any resistance, and allowed Haytham to press himself against his back, with his arms wrapped around his waist.

"So is that a yes?"

"Yes. For pity's sake, Shay, go to sleep. We can talk about this in the morning. Believe me, I am not in the mood to deal with it right now." Haytham muttered in his ear and rested his face against Shay's shoulder. Whatever Shay mumbled in response, Haytham ignored as he dragged the heavy duvet over top of them. As Shay finally relaxed against him, Haytham wondered to himself if he'd ever felt so peaceful in his life. His existence, up this point, had been one of turmoil and conflict from the beginning. Even as a child, he'd been groomed into the perfect killer. Never before had fate allowed him to simply take comfort in another's presence like this. There had been Ziio, yes, but she didn't like to be held like this. He'd never bothered to figure out why she had been so distant at the best of times. Shay, on the other hand, seemed to crave touch. ...Even if he would ask for it over his dead body.

Haytham stopped trying to rationalize it. Love (as much as he'd rather not use that word), he knew, was anything but rational.

Shay had already fallen asleep, judging by his shallow, even breathing. Either that or he'd just passed out from exhaustion; that was likely too. Regardless, he didn't seem to be having any nightmares at the moment. That, Haytham counted as yet another small victory as he too fell into a deep slumber.

When Haytham woke up the following morning, he was alone. Shay had wrapped the blankets tightly around him, but Haytham's first coherent thought was that he missed the solid warmth of Shay's presence. He yawned and rolled over, burying his face in Shay's pillow that smelled a little bit like him – like gun smoke and salt air. The morning air felt crisp against his limbs that were exposed when he moved. Winter had come at last, all that was missing was the snow that was sure to blanket the city soon.

Begrudgingly, Haytham climbed out of the bed and shivered involuntarily from the cold. He'd have to chop some wood and bring it up here to keep a fire lit in the grate at night. ...Or he could just tell Shay to do it. ...Shay. Where had he gone this time? Hopefully he hadn't had some kind of crisis and fled again. Lost in his thoughts, Haytham dressed himself and found his way to the kitchen – where he (thank God) found Shay.

He was sitting at the counter, already fully dressed, with a cup of hot tea. Charles was beside him, picking at a scone and whining about the slowly growing tension between the colonies and the British Crown. Shay seemed, for all the world, to be completely ignoring him. So it surprised Haytham a bit when he spoke up.

"I'm not one to support the British personally, but you've got to admit they have more'n enough right t'charge fair taxes from a political point o' view. Fair taxes mind you, not this gougin' they're on about. The colonies belong to the Crown, after all. We're livin' on British land. Well, technically they stole it from the natives, but that's beside the point." Shay replied, taking a sip of his tea. "'Sides, can you imagine the colonists fightin' them proper? They'd only be in bad bread long enough to crawl back up to King George's feet and beg him for forgiveness when they run out o' good chatter-broth." Charles laughed heartily, and Shay gave him a genuine smile. Much to Haytham's relief, he seemed well-rested and in a better mood than he'd seen him in ages.

"Indeed, but the French may also step in to aid the rebels if it does escalate to actual conflict, especially considering that the seven years war hardly ended in their favor." Haytham added thoughtfully and poured himself a cup of tea. "Then, there is still the issue that many of the colonists do side with the Crown. They are, after all, law-abiding British citizens. It will be a right nightmare if we let this get out of hand. We need to find a solution, before the tension comes to a head."

"That will take years, if it happens; we have time." Charles replied.

"True. But we'd best not ignore the possibility." Haytham told him. "By the way, Charles, did you manage to get Thomas' name out of the press?"

"Yes, Sir. Though it cost a pretty penny." Charles explained glumly. "There's been whisperings about criminal activity in Manhattan. The Assassins might be involved."

"Bother," Haytham grumbled.

"What's botherin' me, is where are they gettin' the resources and men to keep pullin' these jobs?" Shay thought aloud, staring into his teacup. "I've killed off most o' their leaders, and ruined their business contacts wherever I find them. No t'mention that the fleet's been givin' them holy hell on the seas."

"Well, I had best be off. " Charles said curtly and nearly scurried out the door, his scone in one hand and half a cup of tea in the other.

"Could he be any more of a ponce?" Shay muttered darkly and shook his head. Haytham smiled to himself and took the now empty seat beside Shay.

"You know, Shay, it's terrible etiquette to leave your partner to wake up alone..." The way Shay choked on his tea and sputtered was well worth dealing with how ashamed he was about having to admit that, yes, it irritated him that Shay hadn't been there.

"Well, Sir, it was that or tell Charles that you were cuddled up t'me in bed when he came bangin' on my door lookin' for you. I figured you'd rather I didn't. How you slept through that is beyond me." Shay replied tartly.

"Hm. How did you sleep, by the way?" Haytham said in reply. Shay gave him that look, the one that made Haytham just want to crawl into a dark corner and pray for his sanity. It was reproachful, yet fond, and Haytham had begun to understand it as Shay's way of saying he didn't want to talk about something. ...But he would anyway, because it was Haytham and he knew he'd have to eventually.

"...I'll empty a few drawers in the dresser for you t'keep some o' your things." Shay grumbled and slunk out of the kitchen like he couldn't get away fast enough. Haytham had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

In bad bread - in a disagreement or argument

Chatter-broth - tea