Notes: ALL the feels. Ick.

Oh, and just a friendly warning that there is sexual content in this chapter! About damn time for it, too.

Chapter 14: Trivial Things

Haytham stared at the blank page in his journal, looking over his shoulder restlessly at the empty walkway visible through the open window. The guilt he felt after sending Shay away was both immediate and overwhelming, but it was necessary. He needed time alone. He needed to think. The last thing Haytham wanted was to hurt Shay, but he knew it was inevitable. He always had a way of driving away the people he cared for. It wasn't intentional, God no, but somewhere along the line he would make some seemingly trivial mistake that could never be forgiven - Like not making sure Braddock was dead with Ziio, or killing the mercenary in front of his mother, who'd never spoken to him again. ...Except to send him away with Birch. Haytham would never be able to forgive himself if he made a mess of it this time. ...And that was why he never bothered with relationships, not because he considered them a waste of time as he had told Shay that day at sea, but because he found himself utterly incapable of maintaining them. So it was best he settled upon some way to end it before he entirely lost Shay.

All the time in the world wouldn't have done Haytham any good, as it turned out. Instead of trying to find rational ways of dealing with it, he struggled to overcome the nagging hope that it would be different this time. It wouldn't be. He knew that. He threw a new log onto the nearly burnt out embers in the fireplace, and tried desperately not to think about how he'd probably never sleep again. All those times Haytham had harped on Shay for his lack of sleep had been hypocritical at best. While he wasn't actively terrified by nightmares, he was constantly plagued with insomnia so severe it should be considered a clinical illness. A bit of movement caught Haytham's eye and he looked out the window again.

He could see two figures with their heads stooped against the downpour making their way up the walkway. Shay and Gist, no doubt. He should have known better. It wouldn't have taken Shay long to figure it out, that the lead on the precursor box was false. ...Never mind the courier. Shay was entirely too diligent to give up following him, or let him shake him off of his tail. But even knowing this, Haytham had gone ahead with the idea because it would buy him some time. Not a lot, mind you, but enough. ...It wasn't enough. It could never have been enough.

Shay didn't even knock when he shoved open the door of Haytham's office. He didn't expect him to, really. Shay hadn't bothered with formalities in some time – something Gist clearly noticed if the odd look on his face was any indication. Haytham fought to urge to smile. They both looked like a pair of drowned rats, with the way their saturated clothes hung about them dripping water all over the floor.

"Explain." Shay grunted, glaring at him with an unreadable expression. Gist stepped a few paces away from him and shoved his hands under his armpits, shivering with cold. So Shay was furious, that was obvious. ...Was it already too late? Had he managed to ruin what they had before he had the chance to stop it? Probably.

"Master Gist, you may leave." Haytham said curtly, nodding his head in Gist's direction. He visibly relaxed and made a beeline for the door. Shay made no move to stop him, but did grumble something under his breath in annoyance. He closed the door behind Gist and heaved a sigh.

"Y'know Haytham, runnin' away from things you're afraid o' doesn't make them go away. I know that better'n anyone, and you're the one who convinced me to face them – and gave me the stones t'do it." Shay told him firmly. "This isn't like you."

"You say that as though you know why I sent you on a pointless errand." Haytham replied defensively.

Shay fixed him with a searching stare. "Aye, I think I do know."

"You could not possibly begin to understand."

"Don't think that for a second," Shay hissed and leaned across the desk. "You were the one who said nothin' would make you think any less o' me. You can't push me away. I won't let you."

"Shay - !"

Shay shook his head and cut him off mid-sentence. "This, though... You could have just said somethin' and we might've talked about it like adults! Next time, I really hope you will."

Next time. Haytham nearly choked on a breath he didn't know he was holding. Could he salvage this somehow? No. He had to stop it before it got any further, before it got even harder. "Shay, perhaps this is not in our best interests." He wished he could take the words back the instant they left his mouth.

"Quit bein' a frig-pig, and just tell me. Tell me why." Shay demanded.

Haytham finally met Shay's eyes. "Because I always, inevitably mind you, hurt the people that I care about the most." Shay stared at him, rendered speechless for the moment. Haytham wished he'd never taken it upon himself to drag Shay out of his misery, but that wasn't right. If he hadn't, Shay might not even be alive right now. ...And he could think of nothing worse. Actually, he could – this exact situation.

"You care for me," Shay said hesitantly. "Isn't that all the more reason not to let go? After what I've lived through, what d'you honestly think you could do that would hurt me? You might make mistakes, but I know better'n to take anythin' to heart. We're both damaged goods, that's for sure, but we know that. Maybe I'm not the only one that needs savin'. None o' this tripe even matters. We're actin' like a pair o' bob-tails. One day, we're goin' to remember this and laugh about it."

The silence that followed threatened to swallow Haytham whole. He couldn't think of a single valid point to argue. Shay was right. They both had more than their fair share of emotional baggage, and there was no good reason they couldn't make it work if they both put forth the effort. ...Or maybe that was just the hopeful little voice in the back of his head, the one that wanted it to be different this time. Maybe it would be. He'd cock something up eventually, that was without question, but Shay understood and accepted that. Unlike Ziio, he had nearly limitless patience and Haytham didn't have to choose between Shay and the Order. ...Not that his bond with Ziio had even lasted long enough to have to make that choice; his own arrogance had made it for him.

"I suppose I owe you an apology, once which I suggest you graciously accept because I intend to fuck you senseless to make up for earlier." Haytham told him firmly, not even entirely sure where the words, or the sudden inexplicable desire to just throw Shay over the desk and have his with him, had come from.

"Didn't know you had that word in your vocabulary, Sir." Shay said with with a chuckle, and gasped as he found himself pressed flat against the wall with Haytham's body flush against his. Any comment he might have had was cut off with a fierce, hungry kiss.

"You would be surprised what filthy things go through my mind when you call me 'Sir'." Haytham whispered when their lips parted.

"Aye, and you might want to take this to the bedroom unless you fancy blowin' off the groundsils, Sir." Shay retorted.

"What have I told you about manners, Shay?" Haytham grumbled and released Shay from his grip. How they did make it the bedroom was questionable at best. Haytham sincerely hoped Charles was still out, but he couldn't bring himself to actually care. They left a trail of clothing behind them as they went. Haytham thought some of Shay's might even be on the floor in the hall, but again, he really didn't care. Nor, he suspected, did Shay.

Shay put up a thoroughly pathetic fight for dominance when Haytham shoved him backwards against the bed, and they both fell into it with a thump. It was only when Haytham found himself above Shay, straddling his hips and pinning his hands to the bed above his head, did he hesitate long enough to realize that he had no idea what he was doing.

"Bollocks," He muttered under his breath and Shay laughed quietly. Haytham only managed an indignant glare as Shay extricated himself from his grip, and rolled over on top him, pressing their hips tightly together so that their erections touched. It took Haytham a moment to realize the odd, strangled sound of pleasure he'd heard came from his own mouth.

"I guess I'll have to show you the ropes." Shay said in a whisper and placed a soft kiss on Haytham's forehead.

"What expertise I have is sadly limited to women." Haytham replied huskily as Shay leaned over and dug through the drawer of his bed stand. He did, however, have enough knowledge of the mechanics to hope to God that Shay didn't expect him to be the bottom.

"Give me your hand," Shay said, pulling the cork out of a small bottle of oil he'd found in the drawer. Haytham obeyed, still with some degree of uncertainty. "Please tell me this bit is self-explanatory." Shay muttered, pressing Haytham's oil-slicked fingers to his entrance.

"You have no idea how it tempts me to ask for a proper explanation just to see the look on your face, but yes, I think I can manage this without any further details." Haytham grumbled, slipping the first digit inside. Shay squirmed and gripped Haytham's shoulder tightly enough to bruise.

"Apparently not. Gently, Haytham." Shay hissed, and relaxed.

"Apologies," Haytham said quietly and proceeded much more carefully. If nothing else, Haytham had to admit he rather enjoyed the fact that it was this simple to reduce Shay to a needy, lust-driven mess. Emotions were complicated at best. Sex on the other hand, was blessedly straightforward, albeit a bit sloppy. Though to be fair, Haytham doubted Shay expected this first time to be neat, or to last very long any more than he did. That being said, Haytham was still taken by surprise when Shay swatted his hand away and impaled himself on his cock in one fluid motion.

"Next time, we can do this your way, but I'm out o' patience." Shay grunted. Huh, so his patience does have limits, Haytham thought hazily to himself and let his head fall back to the pillow as Shay began to move. As it happened, that was the last relatively conscious thought he had – other than the fact that this was very different from being with a women, in a very nice way. ...And that no way in hell was Shay going to get away with being the one holding the reigns, experience aside. It didn't take much effort for Haytham roll over on top of Shay and pin him to the bed. He moaned and arched his body against Haytham's as he slid back inside of him. Haytham twisted his fingers into Shay's hair and kissed him near to the point of suffocation. Shay didn't offer the slightest resistance, he just clung to Haytham and dug his nails into his back as he moved. Haytham was absolutely sure it had broken his skin, but he really didn't care. He doubted Shay even remembered his own name if the desperate sounds he made were any indication.

As expected, it wasn't going to last long. They were both entirely too wound up, and neither one of had the patience to draw it out. Haytham felt himself nearing the finish, and on pure instinct reached between them and took Shay's cock in hand. It was his undoing. Shay moaned and clung to Haytham for dear life as climax took him, the violent spasm that passed through him throwing Haytham over the edge as well. Haytham gasped, as the world seemed to fall away in that glorious moment. He blinked slowly as he came back to consciousness, and wondered how exactly he'd managed to stay upright. ...Until he registered the sensation of Shay's hands on hips, holding him in place. He relaxed and withdrew himself slowly. Shay sighed quietly and pulled him down beside him, Haytham wordlessly let him wrap his arms around him and held him close.

"...Where's my hat?" Haytham mumbled incoherently after a few moments had passed and some of his capacity for logical thought had returned.

"On that ugly Greek statue in the hall, where you left my pants." Shay answered with a huff.

"Damn it, Shay."

Frig-pig – a worry wart, someone who frets over every little thing

Bob-tail – a womanly man.

Cock up – Brits still use this today (not actually sure when it originated or if it's old enough to be appropriate for this. I found a bunch of different theories/origins, so whatever), but for the rest of you... Basically it means to mess something up really badly.

Blowing off the groundsils – Having sex on the floor