Notes: I don't think Shay's father's ship was ever mentioned by name nor could I find it, so I made one up. Correct me if I'm wrong. Also, what do I have to do to get some reviews up in here? I promise there's gonna more smut than you can shake a stick at soon.
Chapter 12: Did You Kiss Him Yet?
The only thought in Haytham's mind when he'd dragged Shay into his arms in a half-awake daze, was that he had to protect him. From what, he didn't know. As the realization hit him that the ex-Assassin was just having a nightmare, Haytham relaxed and let Shay hold onto him for dear life. Oddly, it didn't bother him. He just held him close and spoke to him quietly as he dissolved into a (silently) sobbing mess in his arms. Haytham didn't dare ask what he'd dreamed of. Maybe he'd risk it in the morning, after a cup of tea and a good breakfast. Not now. It wasn't until he was fully awake that Haytham realized that for the first time in his life, he was capable of comforting another human being. This gentleness, it wasn't something he thought himself able to do. Yet, apparently it was instinct like anything else.
"Shh, do you want Charles to come running? No doubt explaining this will be unpleasant." Haytham chided Shay softly, as he choked on a sob. After what felt like hours, Shay finally relaxed. ...Or just ran out of the energy to keep carrying on like a broken thing. He still clung to Haytham, though, with his face buried in his hair and his fingers twisted into the silky fabric of his shirt.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Haytham asked, carding his fingers through Shay's hair. He felt the faintest shake of his head, and didn't press the issue. "That is fine. All in good time." Haytham reassured him. And really, it would be alright. Shay wasn't hiding anymore, and nothing anyone said could possibly convince Haytham that there was a single thing wrong about how it felt to hold him close. Still, sex had never really been something he thought of much, or especially cared for unless he was in the mood for it. Maybe he had just been looking in the wrong places. Haytham shook his head, dashing the thoughts from his mind. It was hardly appropriate, given the current situation.
"'M sorry." Shay mumbled quietly, and pulled away from Haytham enough to right himself before resting his head back on his shoulder. Haytham just placed his hand in the small of Shay's back and let him take the physical contact he so obviously craved. Not that it bothered Haytham, quite the opposite really. It felt... Right.
"No need to apologize." Haytham reassured him. "You should get some rest. I'm here with you now."
Shay didn't reply. He let Haytham pull him back down to the bed, and curled up against him, with his head resting on Haytham's chest. He absently twisted his fingers into a few locks of Shay's hair, and wondered for the millionth time how in God's name he'd wound up in bed with a man – and why he'd shoot anyone who dared to try and take Shay from him.
Haytham didn't wake up alone this time. Shay was sprawled across the bed, with his head on Haytham's shoulder and most of the blankets wrapped around him. Haytham figured it was probably the cold that woke him. ...So there was yet another bit of proper etiquette he'd have to try to get through Shay's thick skull: Don't hog the bed, and all the blankets. He rolled over and wriggled under the edge of them, closer to Shay who was fast asleep – peacefully this time, thank God. He was, of course, a very light sleeper and woke the very instant Haytham moved.
"Mornin'." He mumbled and went to sit up, but Haytham caught him by the shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It was curiosity that drove him to it mostly. How did it feel to kiss a man? Honestly, not that different from kissing a woman aside from the rough touch of Shay's stubble. But it was different and Haytham decided that he could easily get used to this.
"Aren't you feisty this mornin'. I never would've thought you'd be such a draggle-tail." Shay said, chuckling under his breath.
"Watch you mouth." Haytham chastised him without the slightest hint of venom. Shay just laughed and ruffled Haytham's hair.
"My father must be rollin' in his grave," Shay whined. "I'm consortin' with a bloody Englishman."
"'Consorting', is it?" Haytham replied, rolling his eyes.
"Aye, and now I'll blush like a little girl the next time Gist asks me if I kissed you yet."
"That was hardly a proper kiss."
Shay stared at him in silence for a moment. "Then let's have a 'proper' one, shall we?"
It wasn't a question but a statement, Haytham realized at the exact moment that Shay managed to roll himself on top of him, pressing their bodies flush together. He gasped as Shay tangled his fingers in his hair and took him in a deep, fierce kiss. This, Haytham decided, is not like kissing a woman. It was almost feral, like a silent fight for dominance as he gave back as good as he got. The intensity of it made his head spin. It was only the rather annoying need for air that made them part, panting for breath.
"Damn," Haytham whispered, mostly to himself.
"Aye," Shay said, clearly in a daze.
Both of them startled slightly at the sound of a sharp knock on the locked bedroom door. Haytham fought the urge to kick something. The Templars under his charge were mostly good men, but they had impeccable timing.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Shay groaned and Haytham stifled a derisive snort of laughter. "What the hell d'you want, Charles? I need my beauty sleep."
"Have you seen Master Kenway? We were supposed to be in a meeting with the captain of the guard an hour ago." Charles asked. Haytham bit his tongue until it bled, wondering what time it even was. He'd completely forgotten about the meeting. Which, to say anything of it, was completely out of character.
"Not since yesterday," Shay snapped. "I'll go look for him in a bit. He's a big boy. I'm sure he can take care o' himself just fine."
"Very well then. I shall leave him in your capable hands." Charles replied irately. They listened to the sound of his retreating footsteps until they were no longer audible before Haytham finally spoke.
"Your 'capable hands', hmm?" Shay rolled his eyes, not moving in the slightest from his position above Haytham.
"I think we both know who's wearin' the pants in this, and it e'nt me." Shay told him, with a smirk.
"Damn right," Haytham responded and pulled him down into another, softer kiss. Shay went without any resistance and melted into the contact. For a while they just lay in bed, trading ideas of how to explain Haytham's absence and pondering ways to keep their fledgling relationship a secret from the others. It was the most relaxing morning Haytham had ever had.
"I dreamed o' the day my father died, in a storm at sea." Shay said, completely out of the blue. "I haven't even thought o' him in years. But I was a barely a man then, and it scared the shite right out o' me. It doesn't help that I didn't even have a place t'live when I made it back to New York in the broken husk of the Brigid. Go on, then. You'd best find Charles before he starts thinkin' I absconded with your innocence."
"Innocence? Please. But, you have a fair point." Haytham conceded. "Still, are you... Will you be all right now?" Shay gave him a sideways glance but didn't reply. Haytham heaved a sigh and shoved himself upright enough to place a soft kiss on Shay's cheek, against the scar just below his eye.
"I don't know," Shay said quietly.
"What else are you not telling me, Shay?" Haytham inquired, wondering whether or it not was wise to press the issue. It was difficult to tell. Sometimes, Shay would give in. Other days, he'd lash out like a cornered bear and Haytham wouldn't get a straight answer to save his life. Maybe he'll be a little better now, Haytham thought. After all, there was significantly more trust between them now.
"I... Nothing." Shay mumbled, and hauled himself out of the bed. So, it would be the latter. Haytham fought the urge to shove him up the wall and demand an answer because he damn well said to. ...Though, that wouldn't do any good. He didn't want to push Shay too far – not when he knew the man could be borderline suicidal in such a vulnerable state of mind.
"Will you tell me eventually?" Haytham asked as Shay pulled on his clothes with his back facing him.
"...Maybe." Shay mumbled, sounding strangely sad. "I'm goin' to go for a walk, maybe see if any o' Thomas' boys have heard anythin'."
"As you wish. You know where to find me." Haytham said, barely keeping the disappointment out of his voice as Shay gave him a stiff nod and slunk out of the room. Who was he kidding, anyway? Why did he think he had it in him to function as another human being's moral support, when he barely was able to hold his own shite together on a good day? Haytham felt like stabbing something. ...Almost as much as he felt like breaking down and crying liking a spurned woman – not that he would ever be caught dead in such a state. Regardless, the last thing he wanted to deal with was Charles and his boot-licking. Miserably, he dragged himself out of bed and threw his clothes on without bothering to go through his morning routine of making sure he looked immaculate. His collar was crooked and his hair was ruffled, but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn.
Avoiding Charles was painfully easy – a few well-timed steps around corners and a quick dash past his office that the Templar in question was occupying was all it took to escape Fort Arsenal unnoticed. Haytham wandered the streets of Greenwich aimlessly, stopping only to pay a merchant for an apple for some means of sustenance. The only thing in his mind was Shay and the distinct, yet irrational fear that he had failed him somehow. Haytham sat down on a bench near the docks and twirled the apple idly in his hands. He'd never find Shay, not when he didn't want to be found. Maybe it was best to let him have some space anyway. He'd come around eventually. ...Or he'd throw himself off the roof of the church. Haytham shook his head, trying to dash the thoughts from his mind. The mere notion of losing Shay terrified him. He doubted he'd survive it.
"'Ey? Spare a coin, friend?" Haytham glared daggers at the beggar who'd probably been pestering him for far longer than he'd actually noticed.
"Find yourself a job." He growled and got up from the bench, his uncertainties quickly turning into anger. Without even looking, he threw a few silver coins over his shoulder that the thin man in threadbare clothes scrambled to catch while spewing a slew of thanks, which of course, Haytham completely ignored. He broke into a run, launching himself up the wall of a general store and vaulting across the distance to the neighboring roof. The feel of the wind as he tore across the rooftops was refreshing; it had been a while since he'd actually worked in the field. A little ways across across town, he came to a tall boarding house and scaled the wall with ease. On the roof, Haytham settled himself into a sitting position, his back resting against a worn brick chimney. Unconsciously, he pulled his cape around his shoulders to block out some of the cold winter air and looked out over the rooftops.
"I can't deal with this nonsense anymore..." He mumbled to himself. "Must nothing ever be easy?"
"My father always told me that nothin' worth havin' was ever easy t'come by." Haytham nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Shay's voice behind him. Curiously, he peeked around the other side of the chimney to see Shay seated in a similar position. "Really, though. Can't you find your own roof to sulk on? This one's full."
Haytham smiled faintly in spite of himself. "You will have to duel me for it," He said jokingly.
"Not today. What's gotten you lookin' so chaf'd?" Shay asked, glancing over his shoulder. "It en't me is it? I'm not about to take any swan dives, unless it's into a pile o' hay. Don't worry so much."
"It's hard not to, you must have driven your father sick with worry as a child." Haytham commented with a scoff.
"I'm sorry it's just... I've been thinkin' lately... I don't deserve any o' this." Shay replied.
"No, Shay, you do not. But this sort of talk is not like you. You are usually ranting about making your own luck and telling fate to bite your arse." Haytham retorted cynically.
"No, not that. I meant that I... I don't deserve you." Shay clarified in a broken tone.
"Oh," Haytham said dumbly, not sure how to respond. His heart told him to vehemently deny the statement for all he was worth, to tell Shay that he was more than worthy. Yet... A sneaky little voice in the back of his mind disagreed. Shay was right, he didn't deserve him. He deserved better. Haytham could never be what he needed. It was delusional at best to have thought that he could have been. ...But how he wanted to be everything to Shay.
Shay was the one to break the silence, albeit hesitantly. "I'm a monster."
"And I am the queen of England." Haytham snapped, without thinking. "You are a lot of things Shay, but not a monster. Would a monster be haunted by his mistakes? No, I think not."
"But that doesn't change the things I've done." Shay replied wearily.
"No, but do you honestly believe my hands are any cleaner? Wallowing in pointless guilt does not serve any man well. We cannot change the past; we can only move forward." Haytham told him quietly. Keep moving forward, he thought, can I even manage that? Sometimes, he had to wonder.
"You've the right o' it, but it sounds easier than it is." Shay said, gazing out over the rooftops. There was a little orange tom cat sleeping on the neighboring one, without a care in the world.
"Of course it is easy," Haytham muttered, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "That is why we are having this conversation in the first place. We should head back. There is some work to be done." Shay followed without a word. Haytham thought he reminded him of a dog sometimes, what with his unquestionable loyalty and quickness to follow commands.
Draggle-tail – a really nasty, dirty whore
Chaf'd – Beaten down