Wait
Title: Wait
Rating: 15
Fandom: Assassin’s Creed
Pairing: Shaun/Desmond
Summary: Shaun doesn’t need anyone. But if he ever did need anyone at all, then it would be Desmond.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Ubisoft and not me. Please don’t sue, my student loan won’t cover it. Lyrics belong to Earshot.
Author’s Notes: So I’m venturing out into a new fandom, which I do not find scary in the slightest *eye roll*. So please be nice to me, and I do apologise in advance for any OC moments here, I'm sure there are plenty! And I should probably apologise in advance for typo's, I've tried my hardest, but I am currently flying solo without an AC beta... Hope you enjoy it though, and as always, reviews really are life! :)
Wait
“Something's wrong
Trying to conquer these fears I thought were gone
And it's been so long
I'm dying to live in a world I don't belong
I can't wait for someone to hear me
And wait for someone to touch me
And wait forever to be told
I'm forever alone
I can't wait for someone to feel me
And wait for someone to heal me
And wait forever to be told
I'm forever alone
On my own, I've show myself
What it means to be alone
And the tears I cried have washed away
All the scars of my disguise”
Shaun Hastings had never been one to feel weak.
Looking weak he had no problem with. He was more than happy to hide behind his computer geek façade, to use his glasses, sweaters and mess of hair to give off the illusion that he was somewhat naïve, somewhat weaker than the other assassins. Because at least he himself knew the truth, knew that he was stronger than anyone ever imagined. In some ways he relished the feeling, because it always got that little extra reaction out of someone when he charged in and saved their miserable life.
Not that he was doing that anymore of course. Now he had a far more important job to do. Tactical support, in some ways the most honourable job he could imagine, and in others the worst. After all, he had been given a position of trust, of responsibility. And although he knew the world wasn’t perfect and in reality anything could happen, Shaun still felt the weight of pressure firmly on his shoulders.
But that wasn’t what was weakening him. Not directly anyway.
There was a heavy thrash of rain against the window pane, the wind whipping the streams of water into frantic and irregular patterns as it continued to whistle through the outside world. The mere sound itself was enough to send a shiver down Shaun’s spine, and he wriggled in his seat at his desk slightly, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater in a petty act to try and retain a little more warmth. In reality he should have stood up to fetch a jacket, or retreated to his bed to capture at least an hour or so of sleep. But somehow, that would have felt like a betrayal. He wouldn’t stand until he had imagined every single course of action on the map in front of him. Twice.
There was a soft patter of feet behind him and Shaun sighed inwardly, recognising the sound without turning round. Normally he would have had some sharp comment already waiting on the tip of his tongue, but in his sleep depraved state he would be lucky if he could even manage anything coherent.
“What is it, Desmond?”
“How’d you know it was me?”
“You’re a good deal heavier than Lucy and Rebecca.” He rolled his eyes. “I could hear you a mile away.”
“Well aren’t you a smart ass…”
“It’s the reason why I’m sitting here rather than in the animus.” Shaun shook his head, turning from his laptop monitor to face him. Desmond was stood behind, confident as always, yet dressed in a pair of navy blue boxers and a plain white t-shirt. Around his shoulders was a cream blanket, which he held bunched in one hand across his chest. “It’s also the reason why I am trying to work.”
“Hey…” Desmond smirked, holding one hand up in mock surrender. “You spoke to me first.” He grinned, when Shaun didn’t reply straight away. “I just couldn’t sleep.”
“So you came to bother me instead?”
“The two better options were sleeping.”
“Great.” Shaun sighed, turning back to his work and trying very hard to ignore Desmond’s presence. But it was undeniably there, he could practically hear him breathing down his neck for god’s sake. “Do you have to stand behind me?”
“Do you have to still be working?”
“What?!”
“My room’s right next to yours. I know when you go to bed, Shaun…if you go to bed.”
“And you care because?”
“Call it team spirit.” Desmond chuckled, although it seemed to fall heavy on them both. The next time he spoke his voice was softer, almost concerned. “Seriously though…why do it?”
“Because lives depend on me, Desmond…real lives. Not conjured up images from my DNA.” Shaun was unable to stop the defensive tone in his voice, although he didn’t intend for it to be as intense as it was.
“Yeah…I understand…” Desmond breathed his voice brittle and almost betrayed. “I hadn’t realised how superfluous I was, thanks for clearing that up.” The younger assassin shook his head, laughing darkly to himself. “I won’t try caring about you again.”
“Glad we’ve sorted that then.” Shaun spat, his eyes focused on the monitor in front of him, his face creating the illusion that his thoughts were that focused as well. “Now…can I get back to work? Or do I need to babysit for a while longer?”
All that greeted him was a frustrated hiss as Desmond finally withdrew and went back to bed.
It wasn’t until the morning, a red sunlight gently pouring into the room, that Shaun realised that he’d fallen asleep at his desk…again. Except this time he could feel the presence of a soft blanket around his shoulders, something that had definitely not been there when he had last been conscious. And it was right then that Shaun realised that Desmond hadn’t kept to his word about caring. And in all honesty, Shaun wasn’t at all sure how he felt about that.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
“What the fuck?!” Desmond was practically yelling, sitting bolt upright in the animus and frightening them all half to death. He looked around bleary eyed, his features crumpled into a mixture of fear and confusion.
“It’s alright Desmond…you’re safe...” Lucy was by his side in seconds, her voice the same soothing tone that she would always adopt when Desmond awoke prematurely from the animus. Shaun could have sworn that she had been a nurse in a former life from the calming effect she had, not just on Desmond, but on everyone. “Rebecca…what the hell is going on?” The words had not meant to come out so concerned, but Desmond was terrified and somehow the sight affected him a little more than he would have liked. Coughing slightly, Shaun quickly grasped at anything to cover his tracks. “How the fuck am I supposed to concentrate with him yelling like that?”
“Lay off him Shaun.” Rebecca replied sharply, her eyes quickly scanning the animus monitor for any indication as to what was happening. “It’s the animus…it’s kicked him out…just ejected him.” She scratched her head, typing something in quickly. “It’s going to take me a while to work out why.”
“Great…” Shaun sighed softly, trying to avoid the fear that was still in Desmond’s eyes as Lucy continued to calm him down. “Time we don’t have.”
“I’ll do the best I can. Either way, we can’t send him back in like this.”
“He’s not a child…”
“But he’s still susceptible to mental trauma.” She threw him a distasteful look. “I sometimes wonder if you’re even human, Shaun.”
In truth, Shaun often wondered the same thing himself. Especially now.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hours later, the animus was still out of action and Desmond had slept off his initial haze, finally remembering just exactly who he was, where he was and most importantly what century it was. Leaving the animus so quickly, Lucy had announced once she had Desmond safely in bed, had sent him into a halfway state, where he was, to be blunt half Desmond and half Ezio.
There was an uneasy silence when Desmond re-entered the room, his hair ruffled on one side where he had been laid on it. He gave Lucy a weak smile, a nervous hand running through his hair as he did so.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like myself…” He laughed weakly. “And this definitely doesn’t look like Venice…so I’m good.”
“You should rest some more.”
“No…” Desmond shook his head, making sure his eyes met with Shaun’s deliberately before he spoke again. “I don’t want to be anymore of a waste of space than I am…”
“You’re not a waste…” Lucy sighed, giving Shaun a look that could practically kill right then and there.
“Sure…” Desmond rolled his eyes. “But I’d still like to do something constructive.”
“You could train.” Rebecca suggested. “See how the bleeding effect is coming…if you feel up to it that is.” She watched as Desmond nodded softly. “Great. Shaun can be your sparring buddy.”
“WHAT?!” It was incredible how both men managed to splutter in shock at the same time.
“When was the last time you left your desk Shaun?” Rebecca smirked, almost sadistically. “And more importantly, when was the last time you trained?” She watched as he remained speechless in front of her. “Exactly. It’ll do you both good.”
It seemed that neither of them had any real choice over the matter.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The warehouse around them was cold and unforgiving, hard concrete beneath there feet as they make their way out into the centre of the large open space, Shaun was still trying to avoid Desmond’s eye directly. Instead he chose to turn around and slowly lift off his sweater, pausing to undo the top few buttons of his shirt in the process. Behind him he could hear the familiar unzipping noise as Desmond shrugged off his hoodie, hearing the material be dropped ominously to the floor.
“Here…” Shaun sighed, grabbing two steel pipes that were lying on top of one of the crates and tossing one to Desmond. “Just try not to aim for my face ok? I need these eyes later for more important things.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Desmond shrugged, twirling the piece of metal around in his right hand as if he was almost weighing it up. “Though answer me one thing.”
“What?”
“We’re modern day assassin’s…so shouldn’t I be training with guns?”
“Did they have modern day guns in renaissance Italy?” Shaun scoffed. “We’re testing the extent of the bleeding effect here, Desmond.” He paused, holding the pipe out in front of himself and towards his “partner”. “But don’t worry…you’ll get to killing people with bullets, soon enough.”
“I’m hardly looking forward to it.” Tentatively, Desmond took a step forward, striking a very soft, almost testing blow against Shaun and weighing up his response. For a second, Shaun did nothing, and then suddenly, his arm was raised and he was pushing forward, aiming a would be excruciating blow at Desmond’s right shoulder. The younger assassin barely had the time to block, his balance knocked slightly by the action as Shaun followed up with another swing, this time more steadily aimed at Desmond’s abdomen. There was a loud chime of metal sliding off metal and Desmond brought him arm forward and blocked the action, following up with an offensive of his own as he pushed Shaun away in a swift sweep with his free hand. However Shaun seemed to be too fast for him, and whilst his armed hand was knocked away painfully, the pipe landing clumsily on the floor, a fist connected with his lip. Hard.
There was a silent pause but Shaun never regretted his action for a second as he saw Desmond stumble backwards, his hand moving up to examine his lips. In truth Shaun knew that the second blow had been unnecessary, and yet he had been unable to stop himself, his mind a flurry of frustration. After all, as usual Desmond was merely the best means possible for Shaun to discharge some of his anger, frustration, a mere channel for him to vent all the pressure and responsibility that so heavily weighted his shoulders. At the time, he didn’t know why Desmond was so much more of a target than Rebecca or Lucy, although over the past few days it was starting to become that little bit clearer. For whatever, fucked up, alien and beyond ridiculous reason, Shaun was beginning to like Desmond, beginning to feel something more than a bitter, almost twisted jealousy of him. And Shaun Hastings had decided that he hated feeling every single second of it. So what else was there to do but push Desmond away more?
Except this time, when Shaun’s gaze next met Desmond’s, he saw something else there. The younger assassin slowly licked his lip, obviously feeling the blood that had become visible in the corner of his mouth. The action had the same effect as when a shark senses a drop of blood within the ocean. As, within one fluid motion, Desmond picked up his lead pipe and launched at Shaun, bringing an onslaught of blows and movement as he did so. In his eyes was a burning determination that Shaun had never expected to see, and each blow came as quickly, and as hard as the next, each block sending shockwaves down the older assassin’s arm. Their pace was frantic, manic, Desmond so focused on beating Shaun that the historian wasn’t even sure if Desmond registered it as him anymore. For all Shaun knew, he was fighting Ezio Auditore, and that was one experience he would prefer to avoid…
When he took a split second too long to think, Shaun felt an impact on his right hand so hard that he dropped his piece of lead piping instantly, hearing it clamber distantly to the floor. Before he could even think, Desmond was taking advantage, almost tackling him to the floor so that his back hit against hard concrete, his head spinning. There was a cool pressure of metal underneath his chin, and that was the first time Shaun became fully aware of the pipe now pressed firmly against his throat.
“Jesus! Desmond...You can stop…” He was spluttering slightly as he spoke, his arms pinned down by Desmond’s body and the length of the pipe. Yet Desmond seemed unable to hear him, and he simply pressed down harder, Shaun’s eyes feeling as if they were about to bulge out from his skull. Out of desperation he kicked his legs around, managing to gain enough leverage to shove him away, before sending a newly freed fist straight into Desmond’s face.
The tables turned, Shaun kicked the lead pipe away, and straddled the younger assassin, his hands pinning down Desmond’s arms in case he still had that same intense desire to kill him still. But this time the younger man’s eyes were different, softer, pink already beginning to blossom underneath his left eye where Shaun’s fist had connected for a second, more decisive time.
“What the hell…was that?!” Shaun managed to gasp, his heart lurching as he took in several deep breaths to try and control the flurry of movement in his chest.
“You hit me…”
“You tried to kill me…” Shaun rolled his eyes.
“I didn’t…”
“Really? Then who just had me pinned to the floor? Ezio?”
“It-It wasn’t you.” Desmond shook his head quickly. “I swear.”
“It bloody felt like me though!” Shaun hissed, rolling his eyes and climbing off of Desmond, the adrenaline in his system beginning to wear off. As it did so he suddenly became aware of a huge throbbing in his right hand, across his knuckles where Desmond had hit him. The pain began to build in intensity, causing Shaun to cradle his hand and swallow back a whimper. “Shit…”
“Are you hurt?” Desmond’s eyes had never been so remorseful as they looked up at him from the floor.
“No.” Shaun spat, too proud to admit otherwise. “But I am never sparring with you…or Ezio, ever again.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Later that evening, Shaun was resolutely convinced that if he never saw Desmond Miles again it would be too soon. After all, the man had lost control, become something else in front of him, and slightly less surprisingly had tried to end his life then and there. However, it was not fear that made Shaun want to avoid Desmond forever more. It was that distinct feeling of betrayal when he had found himself on his back, looking up at Desmond and realising just how serious he had been right then to kill him. It had hurt more than anything Desmond could have actually, physically done to him, and that terrified Shaun beyond belief. The thought that he might be growing attached to Desmond…that was something he was convinced that he couldn’t handle.
He was sitting in the kitchen, a set of bandages set out in front of him on the table, with a plastic ice bag pressed firmly against his bruised knuckles. They still stung immensely, and although the ice was beginning to bring the swelling down, Shaun still couldn’t bear to sit and type until the pain had subsided a little more. So, he was simply stuck there, gazing into the kitchen counter and wishing that he might somehow be able to push Desmond Miles from his thoughts.
“Shaun?” All too soon he could hear that familiar American voice and the mere sound of it made the skin of his arms prickle up with goose bumps.
“What?”
“I watched the CCTV.” Clearly uncomfortable, Shaun heard Desmond edge into the room, closing the kitchen door before moving closer. “I saw…well…what I did.”
“Believe me now then?”
“I’m sorry.” Desmond continued, ignoring Shaun’s comment. “I never realised…you were right. I wasn’t me.”
“Yeah…” Shaun gesticulated at him with his injured hand. “I gathered as much.”
“Fuck…” Desmond was instantly sitting beside him, reaching out and carefully taking the damaged hand, examining it gently. “I did this to you?”
“No Desmond. I just thought it would be fun to hit my knuckles and see what happened…” Shaun spat, although he made no attempts to take back his hand. Furrowing his brow, he watched Desmond closely, seeing the odd flicker of intense emotion across his features, yet unsure of how to interpret it. “I’m fine.”
“Let me bandage it for you?”
“I can manage.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
“No, the least you could do would be to go and be stubborn someplace else.” Shaun retorted, although this time there was a softer edge to his voice, unbeknownst even to himself.
“Too bad.” Smirking, Desmond reached for the bandage, before very gently wrapping it around the now bruised area of Shaun’s hands. Considering how blunt, and downright aggressive he had been the last time he had seen him, Shaun couldn’t help but be surprised by the tenderness that Desmond showed to him now, the care that he put into dressing the wound. At least he was showing one good trait of an assassin. Desmond was fully aware of the consequences of his actions. Now at least.
“There.” Contented, Desmond seemed to hold onto Shaun’s hand a little longer than he should have. “You’ll live, though I’m afraid you might never play the piano quite the same ever again.”
“I’ll manage.” Shaun nodded awkward now as he withdrew his hand, more out of necessity than actual desire to lose contact with Desmond. For a split second he allowed himself to lower his walls, a gentle smile spreading across his features. “Thanks…I guess.”
“No problem.”
“Not that I’d have needed your help if you’d kept control of yourself.” Just like that, the wall was back, strong as ever and ready to deflect the very best of what Desmond could throw at him as Shaun stood, turning away and making his way towards the door. “Just make sure you don’t do it again. I doubt Lucy or Rebecca would want to see it.”
“You’re not going to tell them?”
“No point.” Shaun shrugged, although he didn’t turn back to face Desmond. “Not unless you do it again.” And with that, he left before he could find himself dragged any further into the frightful disaster that was Desmond.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pain. It was ripping through him like a blunt knife, slow and unforgiving. Remorse was racking through his system, his hands trembling, frustrated, burning tears pricking the very corners of his eyes. He wanted to scream, and yet at the same time he knew that he didn’t have the right to.
He’d had to hear their final yells on the comm. system, two lives, extinguished in a second because of him. He’d been sure, been so convinced that the route he had sent them one was the safest. He had thought that he’d looked at it from every angle, from above, below and every which way. Never for a second did he think that the templars would have actually been waiting for them.
He called their names one more time, desperation all that remained in his voice as he closed his eyes and practically prayed for there to be a response. But he was only greeted by silence, the gentle crackle of white noise around him the only sound to be heard. Hanging his head, Shaun bunched his fists, taking a deep breath inwards as he felt the sharp pressure of his nails biting into his palms. Unable to take it anymore, he clicked off the comm. system, throwing his headset onto his desk in disgust.
He’d failed. And he was just as guilty as the templars who had pulled the trigger.
His mind was so lost in his own thoughts that he never heard anyone else enter the room, and never even detected the presence of another until there was a gentle pressure on his left shoulder, the hand squeezing every so gently, almost as if it was unsure. There weren’t any words to identify the person, there didn’t need to be, as right then Desmond’s presence was all Shaun needed.
“I lost them.” Biting his lip, Shaun rested his head in his hands, momentarily comforted by the darkness that came across his vision. “I fucking failed them…they were relying on me and I practically lead them to the slaughterhouse.” His voice broke slightly, wavering on the last few syllables and causing Shaun to take a few moments with which to simply breathe. Behind him Desmond’s hand remained, no sounds leaving his mouth, only the constant movement of his thumb, stroking gentle circles into the fabric of Shaun’s dress shirt. Biting back more emotion, Shaun continued, his shoulders shaking with pent up frustration. “I killed them…I fucking killed them!” He lashed out, hitting the palms of his hands hard against the edge of his desk, ignoring the jab of pain that propelled itself through his forearms. “It should have been me…”
“No…” Finally Desmond spoke, but his words were quiet, soft, and unlike Shaun had ever heard before. “You’re needed here.”
“Because I’m doing my job so well, Desmond?!” Spinning, Shaun swung round, his eyes fiery and intense, the perfect contrast to the other assassin’s. “What are you going to tell me next, Desmond? That I couldn’t have known? That there was nothing that I could do?! Well praise the fucking lord! It’s a miracle! Suddenly it doesn’t hurt anymore…” He laughed darkly, watching Desmond as he simply stayed silent, neither choosing to come closer or withdraw. “Because in the end, that’s not true is it? Because of me, two people are dead, two people who should be alive right now…And don’t you dare think for a second that you can change how I feel about that.” Shaun’s voice had changed over time, morphing into more of a disgusted spit, a tone that was out to inflict as much pain as it possibly could, even if it was just to even the playing field and leave both men as decimated as the other.
Shaun wasn’t quite sure what he was exactly expecting to happen next. But one thing was for certain; it wasn’t the pair of lips that were suddenly pressed decisively to his.
He wasn’t sure what to do as Desmond maintained the contact, and so he stayed stock still, his mouth lifeless as the younger assassin’s lips gently grazed across his. His entire body was frozen, arms hanging loosely by his sides as the action continued, the only sound to leave his lips a delayed strangled cry. Regaining his senses, Shaun quickly pulled away, his right hand reaching up to touch his own lips.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Miles?” He blurted his mind a flurry of guilt, frustration and confusion. Taking a purposeful step backwards, he attempted to put as much distance between Desmond and himself as possible.
“I’m stopping this.” The ex-bartender shrugged softly. “I’m not letting you do this, not letting you get into some kind of downward spiral. I’ve seen it before and…” His voice tailed off as he visibly swallowed, his hands clenching and unclenching nervously. But when Desmond spoke again, his voice was more affirmed, more confident. “I don’t care what you say. It wasn’t you’re fault.”
“That changes nothing.”
“No, you’re right, it doesn’t.” Desmond sighed. “But it means that you can’t take the blame for this all by yourself. They knew the risks. We all do, Shaun.”
“It should have still been me taking the risks…”
“Are you deaf as well as blind?!” Desmond laughed, although the tone was a saddened one. “I told you. We need you.” He paused, visibly biting his lip. “I need you.” He stepped forward quickly, reaching out and grabbing Shaun’s wrist. “Just let me in, Shaun. I swear I won’t remind you about it in the morning.”
When Desmond kissed him again, Shaun wasn’t sure what it was about that made him kiss back this time. Of course he’d realised how attached he was becoming to Desmond, how attracted to him he had become. But to lower all of his defences, even if it was just for one night? That was something he had never quite imagined himself doing. Not for anyone. He had always seen it as being weak.
And so then, regardless of that logic, why did Desmond’s kiss feel as if in some small way it was bringing him back from the edge? Why with every flex of his tongue did Shaun feel that little bit stronger than before?
They collapsed onto Shaun’s bed in a tangle of limbs, working away the fabric of clothes whilst lavishing attention on any area of exposed skin. Lips teased and sucked, fingernails traced and scraped, and with every new movement Shaun could feel any insecurity and remorse being slowly forced to the back of his mind by the sheer intensity of what he was feeling. It had been so long, and if only for a few precious, mind numbing seconds, Shaun Hastings could convince himself that nothing else in the world mattered aside from this.
Barely an hour later, Desmond was gone.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Morning, and as the first splinters of light began to shine through into the warehouse, Shaun was already well into his morning routine. He had slept, showered and was now back at his old post, this time typing up database entries to distract himself from the obituaries that he would soon have to write. Slowly, the others awoke and accompanied him in the main room, Rebecca setting to tinkering with the Animus straight away whilst Lucy simply gave him a knowing, saddened look before sitting down in front of her monitor. Nothing needed to be said, they were all painfully aware of the night’s failed mission.
Desmond was the last to appear, and as he did so he kept silent, something that was uncharacteristically rare, yet the others were so preoccupied that no one thought to mention it. Instead Shaun found himself barking something about being “short of time”, and insisting that Desmond be put into the Animus (and out of his thoughts) as soon as possible. Rebecca begrudging complied and began fussing around with the machine, whilst Desmond sat down and waited patiently. From across the room, his intense eyes met with Shaun’s, and for a moment they both simply stared, neither seemingly sure of what to do next. And then it was there, so fleeting and subtle that no one else would have even noticed it. A smile. A sign to Shaun that although Desmond hadn’t forgotten, he would stay true to his word. There would be no reminders that just this once, Shaun had needed him.
And although he knew that they would never talk about it, not really anyway, it somehow helped knowing that if he ever needed to, Shaun finally had someone he trusted enough to let them in.
So what did you think? If you have a free second, don't hesitate in letting me know your thoughts! But in the mean time, thank you so so much for reading this far. :)
Just Being Me
xxxxxxxxxxxx
Rating: 15
Fandom: Assassin’s Creed
Pairing: Shaun/Desmond
Summary: Shaun doesn’t need anyone. But if he ever did need anyone at all, then it would be Desmond.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Ubisoft and not me. Please don’t sue, my student loan won’t cover it. Lyrics belong to Earshot.
Author’s Notes: So I’m venturing out into a new fandom, which I do not find scary in the slightest *eye roll*. So please be nice to me, and I do apologise in advance for any OC moments here, I'm sure there are plenty! And I should probably apologise in advance for typo's, I've tried my hardest, but I am currently flying solo without an AC beta... Hope you enjoy it though, and as always, reviews really are life! :)
Wait
“Something's wrong
Trying to conquer these fears I thought were gone
And it's been so long
I'm dying to live in a world I don't belong
I can't wait for someone to hear me
And wait for someone to touch me
And wait forever to be told
I'm forever alone
I can't wait for someone to feel me
And wait for someone to heal me
And wait forever to be told
I'm forever alone
On my own, I've show myself
What it means to be alone
And the tears I cried have washed away
All the scars of my disguise”
Shaun Hastings had never been one to feel weak.
Looking weak he had no problem with. He was more than happy to hide behind his computer geek façade, to use his glasses, sweaters and mess of hair to give off the illusion that he was somewhat naïve, somewhat weaker than the other assassins. Because at least he himself knew the truth, knew that he was stronger than anyone ever imagined. In some ways he relished the feeling, because it always got that little extra reaction out of someone when he charged in and saved their miserable life.
Not that he was doing that anymore of course. Now he had a far more important job to do. Tactical support, in some ways the most honourable job he could imagine, and in others the worst. After all, he had been given a position of trust, of responsibility. And although he knew the world wasn’t perfect and in reality anything could happen, Shaun still felt the weight of pressure firmly on his shoulders.
But that wasn’t what was weakening him. Not directly anyway.
There was a heavy thrash of rain against the window pane, the wind whipping the streams of water into frantic and irregular patterns as it continued to whistle through the outside world. The mere sound itself was enough to send a shiver down Shaun’s spine, and he wriggled in his seat at his desk slightly, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater in a petty act to try and retain a little more warmth. In reality he should have stood up to fetch a jacket, or retreated to his bed to capture at least an hour or so of sleep. But somehow, that would have felt like a betrayal. He wouldn’t stand until he had imagined every single course of action on the map in front of him. Twice.
There was a soft patter of feet behind him and Shaun sighed inwardly, recognising the sound without turning round. Normally he would have had some sharp comment already waiting on the tip of his tongue, but in his sleep depraved state he would be lucky if he could even manage anything coherent.
“What is it, Desmond?”
“How’d you know it was me?”
“You’re a good deal heavier than Lucy and Rebecca.” He rolled his eyes. “I could hear you a mile away.”
“Well aren’t you a smart ass…”
“It’s the reason why I’m sitting here rather than in the animus.” Shaun shook his head, turning from his laptop monitor to face him. Desmond was stood behind, confident as always, yet dressed in a pair of navy blue boxers and a plain white t-shirt. Around his shoulders was a cream blanket, which he held bunched in one hand across his chest. “It’s also the reason why I am trying to work.”
“Hey…” Desmond smirked, holding one hand up in mock surrender. “You spoke to me first.” He grinned, when Shaun didn’t reply straight away. “I just couldn’t sleep.”
“So you came to bother me instead?”
“The two better options were sleeping.”
“Great.” Shaun sighed, turning back to his work and trying very hard to ignore Desmond’s presence. But it was undeniably there, he could practically hear him breathing down his neck for god’s sake. “Do you have to stand behind me?”
“Do you have to still be working?”
“What?!”
“My room’s right next to yours. I know when you go to bed, Shaun…if you go to bed.”
“And you care because?”
“Call it team spirit.” Desmond chuckled, although it seemed to fall heavy on them both. The next time he spoke his voice was softer, almost concerned. “Seriously though…why do it?”
“Because lives depend on me, Desmond…real lives. Not conjured up images from my DNA.” Shaun was unable to stop the defensive tone in his voice, although he didn’t intend for it to be as intense as it was.
“Yeah…I understand…” Desmond breathed his voice brittle and almost betrayed. “I hadn’t realised how superfluous I was, thanks for clearing that up.” The younger assassin shook his head, laughing darkly to himself. “I won’t try caring about you again.”
“Glad we’ve sorted that then.” Shaun spat, his eyes focused on the monitor in front of him, his face creating the illusion that his thoughts were that focused as well. “Now…can I get back to work? Or do I need to babysit for a while longer?”
All that greeted him was a frustrated hiss as Desmond finally withdrew and went back to bed.
It wasn’t until the morning, a red sunlight gently pouring into the room, that Shaun realised that he’d fallen asleep at his desk…again. Except this time he could feel the presence of a soft blanket around his shoulders, something that had definitely not been there when he had last been conscious. And it was right then that Shaun realised that Desmond hadn’t kept to his word about caring. And in all honesty, Shaun wasn’t at all sure how he felt about that.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
“What the fuck?!” Desmond was practically yelling, sitting bolt upright in the animus and frightening them all half to death. He looked around bleary eyed, his features crumpled into a mixture of fear and confusion.
“It’s alright Desmond…you’re safe...” Lucy was by his side in seconds, her voice the same soothing tone that she would always adopt when Desmond awoke prematurely from the animus. Shaun could have sworn that she had been a nurse in a former life from the calming effect she had, not just on Desmond, but on everyone. “Rebecca…what the hell is going on?” The words had not meant to come out so concerned, but Desmond was terrified and somehow the sight affected him a little more than he would have liked. Coughing slightly, Shaun quickly grasped at anything to cover his tracks. “How the fuck am I supposed to concentrate with him yelling like that?”
“Lay off him Shaun.” Rebecca replied sharply, her eyes quickly scanning the animus monitor for any indication as to what was happening. “It’s the animus…it’s kicked him out…just ejected him.” She scratched her head, typing something in quickly. “It’s going to take me a while to work out why.”
“Great…” Shaun sighed softly, trying to avoid the fear that was still in Desmond’s eyes as Lucy continued to calm him down. “Time we don’t have.”
“I’ll do the best I can. Either way, we can’t send him back in like this.”
“He’s not a child…”
“But he’s still susceptible to mental trauma.” She threw him a distasteful look. “I sometimes wonder if you’re even human, Shaun.”
In truth, Shaun often wondered the same thing himself. Especially now.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hours later, the animus was still out of action and Desmond had slept off his initial haze, finally remembering just exactly who he was, where he was and most importantly what century it was. Leaving the animus so quickly, Lucy had announced once she had Desmond safely in bed, had sent him into a halfway state, where he was, to be blunt half Desmond and half Ezio.
There was an uneasy silence when Desmond re-entered the room, his hair ruffled on one side where he had been laid on it. He gave Lucy a weak smile, a nervous hand running through his hair as he did so.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like myself…” He laughed weakly. “And this definitely doesn’t look like Venice…so I’m good.”
“You should rest some more.”
“No…” Desmond shook his head, making sure his eyes met with Shaun’s deliberately before he spoke again. “I don’t want to be anymore of a waste of space than I am…”
“You’re not a waste…” Lucy sighed, giving Shaun a look that could practically kill right then and there.
“Sure…” Desmond rolled his eyes. “But I’d still like to do something constructive.”
“You could train.” Rebecca suggested. “See how the bleeding effect is coming…if you feel up to it that is.” She watched as Desmond nodded softly. “Great. Shaun can be your sparring buddy.”
“WHAT?!” It was incredible how both men managed to splutter in shock at the same time.
“When was the last time you left your desk Shaun?” Rebecca smirked, almost sadistically. “And more importantly, when was the last time you trained?” She watched as he remained speechless in front of her. “Exactly. It’ll do you both good.”
It seemed that neither of them had any real choice over the matter.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The warehouse around them was cold and unforgiving, hard concrete beneath there feet as they make their way out into the centre of the large open space, Shaun was still trying to avoid Desmond’s eye directly. Instead he chose to turn around and slowly lift off his sweater, pausing to undo the top few buttons of his shirt in the process. Behind him he could hear the familiar unzipping noise as Desmond shrugged off his hoodie, hearing the material be dropped ominously to the floor.
“Here…” Shaun sighed, grabbing two steel pipes that were lying on top of one of the crates and tossing one to Desmond. “Just try not to aim for my face ok? I need these eyes later for more important things.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Desmond shrugged, twirling the piece of metal around in his right hand as if he was almost weighing it up. “Though answer me one thing.”
“What?”
“We’re modern day assassin’s…so shouldn’t I be training with guns?”
“Did they have modern day guns in renaissance Italy?” Shaun scoffed. “We’re testing the extent of the bleeding effect here, Desmond.” He paused, holding the pipe out in front of himself and towards his “partner”. “But don’t worry…you’ll get to killing people with bullets, soon enough.”
“I’m hardly looking forward to it.” Tentatively, Desmond took a step forward, striking a very soft, almost testing blow against Shaun and weighing up his response. For a second, Shaun did nothing, and then suddenly, his arm was raised and he was pushing forward, aiming a would be excruciating blow at Desmond’s right shoulder. The younger assassin barely had the time to block, his balance knocked slightly by the action as Shaun followed up with another swing, this time more steadily aimed at Desmond’s abdomen. There was a loud chime of metal sliding off metal and Desmond brought him arm forward and blocked the action, following up with an offensive of his own as he pushed Shaun away in a swift sweep with his free hand. However Shaun seemed to be too fast for him, and whilst his armed hand was knocked away painfully, the pipe landing clumsily on the floor, a fist connected with his lip. Hard.
There was a silent pause but Shaun never regretted his action for a second as he saw Desmond stumble backwards, his hand moving up to examine his lips. In truth Shaun knew that the second blow had been unnecessary, and yet he had been unable to stop himself, his mind a flurry of frustration. After all, as usual Desmond was merely the best means possible for Shaun to discharge some of his anger, frustration, a mere channel for him to vent all the pressure and responsibility that so heavily weighted his shoulders. At the time, he didn’t know why Desmond was so much more of a target than Rebecca or Lucy, although over the past few days it was starting to become that little bit clearer. For whatever, fucked up, alien and beyond ridiculous reason, Shaun was beginning to like Desmond, beginning to feel something more than a bitter, almost twisted jealousy of him. And Shaun Hastings had decided that he hated feeling every single second of it. So what else was there to do but push Desmond away more?
Except this time, when Shaun’s gaze next met Desmond’s, he saw something else there. The younger assassin slowly licked his lip, obviously feeling the blood that had become visible in the corner of his mouth. The action had the same effect as when a shark senses a drop of blood within the ocean. As, within one fluid motion, Desmond picked up his lead pipe and launched at Shaun, bringing an onslaught of blows and movement as he did so. In his eyes was a burning determination that Shaun had never expected to see, and each blow came as quickly, and as hard as the next, each block sending shockwaves down the older assassin’s arm. Their pace was frantic, manic, Desmond so focused on beating Shaun that the historian wasn’t even sure if Desmond registered it as him anymore. For all Shaun knew, he was fighting Ezio Auditore, and that was one experience he would prefer to avoid…
When he took a split second too long to think, Shaun felt an impact on his right hand so hard that he dropped his piece of lead piping instantly, hearing it clamber distantly to the floor. Before he could even think, Desmond was taking advantage, almost tackling him to the floor so that his back hit against hard concrete, his head spinning. There was a cool pressure of metal underneath his chin, and that was the first time Shaun became fully aware of the pipe now pressed firmly against his throat.
“Jesus! Desmond...You can stop…” He was spluttering slightly as he spoke, his arms pinned down by Desmond’s body and the length of the pipe. Yet Desmond seemed unable to hear him, and he simply pressed down harder, Shaun’s eyes feeling as if they were about to bulge out from his skull. Out of desperation he kicked his legs around, managing to gain enough leverage to shove him away, before sending a newly freed fist straight into Desmond’s face.
The tables turned, Shaun kicked the lead pipe away, and straddled the younger assassin, his hands pinning down Desmond’s arms in case he still had that same intense desire to kill him still. But this time the younger man’s eyes were different, softer, pink already beginning to blossom underneath his left eye where Shaun’s fist had connected for a second, more decisive time.
“What the hell…was that?!” Shaun managed to gasp, his heart lurching as he took in several deep breaths to try and control the flurry of movement in his chest.
“You hit me…”
“You tried to kill me…” Shaun rolled his eyes.
“I didn’t…”
“Really? Then who just had me pinned to the floor? Ezio?”
“It-It wasn’t you.” Desmond shook his head quickly. “I swear.”
“It bloody felt like me though!” Shaun hissed, rolling his eyes and climbing off of Desmond, the adrenaline in his system beginning to wear off. As it did so he suddenly became aware of a huge throbbing in his right hand, across his knuckles where Desmond had hit him. The pain began to build in intensity, causing Shaun to cradle his hand and swallow back a whimper. “Shit…”
“Are you hurt?” Desmond’s eyes had never been so remorseful as they looked up at him from the floor.
“No.” Shaun spat, too proud to admit otherwise. “But I am never sparring with you…or Ezio, ever again.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Later that evening, Shaun was resolutely convinced that if he never saw Desmond Miles again it would be too soon. After all, the man had lost control, become something else in front of him, and slightly less surprisingly had tried to end his life then and there. However, it was not fear that made Shaun want to avoid Desmond forever more. It was that distinct feeling of betrayal when he had found himself on his back, looking up at Desmond and realising just how serious he had been right then to kill him. It had hurt more than anything Desmond could have actually, physically done to him, and that terrified Shaun beyond belief. The thought that he might be growing attached to Desmond…that was something he was convinced that he couldn’t handle.
He was sitting in the kitchen, a set of bandages set out in front of him on the table, with a plastic ice bag pressed firmly against his bruised knuckles. They still stung immensely, and although the ice was beginning to bring the swelling down, Shaun still couldn’t bear to sit and type until the pain had subsided a little more. So, he was simply stuck there, gazing into the kitchen counter and wishing that he might somehow be able to push Desmond Miles from his thoughts.
“Shaun?” All too soon he could hear that familiar American voice and the mere sound of it made the skin of his arms prickle up with goose bumps.
“What?”
“I watched the CCTV.” Clearly uncomfortable, Shaun heard Desmond edge into the room, closing the kitchen door before moving closer. “I saw…well…what I did.”
“Believe me now then?”
“I’m sorry.” Desmond continued, ignoring Shaun’s comment. “I never realised…you were right. I wasn’t me.”
“Yeah…” Shaun gesticulated at him with his injured hand. “I gathered as much.”
“Fuck…” Desmond was instantly sitting beside him, reaching out and carefully taking the damaged hand, examining it gently. “I did this to you?”
“No Desmond. I just thought it would be fun to hit my knuckles and see what happened…” Shaun spat, although he made no attempts to take back his hand. Furrowing his brow, he watched Desmond closely, seeing the odd flicker of intense emotion across his features, yet unsure of how to interpret it. “I’m fine.”
“Let me bandage it for you?”
“I can manage.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
“No, the least you could do would be to go and be stubborn someplace else.” Shaun retorted, although this time there was a softer edge to his voice, unbeknownst even to himself.
“Too bad.” Smirking, Desmond reached for the bandage, before very gently wrapping it around the now bruised area of Shaun’s hands. Considering how blunt, and downright aggressive he had been the last time he had seen him, Shaun couldn’t help but be surprised by the tenderness that Desmond showed to him now, the care that he put into dressing the wound. At least he was showing one good trait of an assassin. Desmond was fully aware of the consequences of his actions. Now at least.
“There.” Contented, Desmond seemed to hold onto Shaun’s hand a little longer than he should have. “You’ll live, though I’m afraid you might never play the piano quite the same ever again.”
“I’ll manage.” Shaun nodded awkward now as he withdrew his hand, more out of necessity than actual desire to lose contact with Desmond. For a split second he allowed himself to lower his walls, a gentle smile spreading across his features. “Thanks…I guess.”
“No problem.”
“Not that I’d have needed your help if you’d kept control of yourself.” Just like that, the wall was back, strong as ever and ready to deflect the very best of what Desmond could throw at him as Shaun stood, turning away and making his way towards the door. “Just make sure you don’t do it again. I doubt Lucy or Rebecca would want to see it.”
“You’re not going to tell them?”
“No point.” Shaun shrugged, although he didn’t turn back to face Desmond. “Not unless you do it again.” And with that, he left before he could find himself dragged any further into the frightful disaster that was Desmond.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pain. It was ripping through him like a blunt knife, slow and unforgiving. Remorse was racking through his system, his hands trembling, frustrated, burning tears pricking the very corners of his eyes. He wanted to scream, and yet at the same time he knew that he didn’t have the right to.
He’d had to hear their final yells on the comm. system, two lives, extinguished in a second because of him. He’d been sure, been so convinced that the route he had sent them one was the safest. He had thought that he’d looked at it from every angle, from above, below and every which way. Never for a second did he think that the templars would have actually been waiting for them.
He called their names one more time, desperation all that remained in his voice as he closed his eyes and practically prayed for there to be a response. But he was only greeted by silence, the gentle crackle of white noise around him the only sound to be heard. Hanging his head, Shaun bunched his fists, taking a deep breath inwards as he felt the sharp pressure of his nails biting into his palms. Unable to take it anymore, he clicked off the comm. system, throwing his headset onto his desk in disgust.
He’d failed. And he was just as guilty as the templars who had pulled the trigger.
His mind was so lost in his own thoughts that he never heard anyone else enter the room, and never even detected the presence of another until there was a gentle pressure on his left shoulder, the hand squeezing every so gently, almost as if it was unsure. There weren’t any words to identify the person, there didn’t need to be, as right then Desmond’s presence was all Shaun needed.
“I lost them.” Biting his lip, Shaun rested his head in his hands, momentarily comforted by the darkness that came across his vision. “I fucking failed them…they were relying on me and I practically lead them to the slaughterhouse.” His voice broke slightly, wavering on the last few syllables and causing Shaun to take a few moments with which to simply breathe. Behind him Desmond’s hand remained, no sounds leaving his mouth, only the constant movement of his thumb, stroking gentle circles into the fabric of Shaun’s dress shirt. Biting back more emotion, Shaun continued, his shoulders shaking with pent up frustration. “I killed them…I fucking killed them!” He lashed out, hitting the palms of his hands hard against the edge of his desk, ignoring the jab of pain that propelled itself through his forearms. “It should have been me…”
“No…” Finally Desmond spoke, but his words were quiet, soft, and unlike Shaun had ever heard before. “You’re needed here.”
“Because I’m doing my job so well, Desmond?!” Spinning, Shaun swung round, his eyes fiery and intense, the perfect contrast to the other assassin’s. “What are you going to tell me next, Desmond? That I couldn’t have known? That there was nothing that I could do?! Well praise the fucking lord! It’s a miracle! Suddenly it doesn’t hurt anymore…” He laughed darkly, watching Desmond as he simply stayed silent, neither choosing to come closer or withdraw. “Because in the end, that’s not true is it? Because of me, two people are dead, two people who should be alive right now…And don’t you dare think for a second that you can change how I feel about that.” Shaun’s voice had changed over time, morphing into more of a disgusted spit, a tone that was out to inflict as much pain as it possibly could, even if it was just to even the playing field and leave both men as decimated as the other.
Shaun wasn’t quite sure what he was exactly expecting to happen next. But one thing was for certain; it wasn’t the pair of lips that were suddenly pressed decisively to his.
He wasn’t sure what to do as Desmond maintained the contact, and so he stayed stock still, his mouth lifeless as the younger assassin’s lips gently grazed across his. His entire body was frozen, arms hanging loosely by his sides as the action continued, the only sound to leave his lips a delayed strangled cry. Regaining his senses, Shaun quickly pulled away, his right hand reaching up to touch his own lips.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Miles?” He blurted his mind a flurry of guilt, frustration and confusion. Taking a purposeful step backwards, he attempted to put as much distance between Desmond and himself as possible.
“I’m stopping this.” The ex-bartender shrugged softly. “I’m not letting you do this, not letting you get into some kind of downward spiral. I’ve seen it before and…” His voice tailed off as he visibly swallowed, his hands clenching and unclenching nervously. But when Desmond spoke again, his voice was more affirmed, more confident. “I don’t care what you say. It wasn’t you’re fault.”
“That changes nothing.”
“No, you’re right, it doesn’t.” Desmond sighed. “But it means that you can’t take the blame for this all by yourself. They knew the risks. We all do, Shaun.”
“It should have still been me taking the risks…”
“Are you deaf as well as blind?!” Desmond laughed, although the tone was a saddened one. “I told you. We need you.” He paused, visibly biting his lip. “I need you.” He stepped forward quickly, reaching out and grabbing Shaun’s wrist. “Just let me in, Shaun. I swear I won’t remind you about it in the morning.”
When Desmond kissed him again, Shaun wasn’t sure what it was about that made him kiss back this time. Of course he’d realised how attached he was becoming to Desmond, how attracted to him he had become. But to lower all of his defences, even if it was just for one night? That was something he had never quite imagined himself doing. Not for anyone. He had always seen it as being weak.
And so then, regardless of that logic, why did Desmond’s kiss feel as if in some small way it was bringing him back from the edge? Why with every flex of his tongue did Shaun feel that little bit stronger than before?
They collapsed onto Shaun’s bed in a tangle of limbs, working away the fabric of clothes whilst lavishing attention on any area of exposed skin. Lips teased and sucked, fingernails traced and scraped, and with every new movement Shaun could feel any insecurity and remorse being slowly forced to the back of his mind by the sheer intensity of what he was feeling. It had been so long, and if only for a few precious, mind numbing seconds, Shaun Hastings could convince himself that nothing else in the world mattered aside from this.
Barely an hour later, Desmond was gone.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Morning, and as the first splinters of light began to shine through into the warehouse, Shaun was already well into his morning routine. He had slept, showered and was now back at his old post, this time typing up database entries to distract himself from the obituaries that he would soon have to write. Slowly, the others awoke and accompanied him in the main room, Rebecca setting to tinkering with the Animus straight away whilst Lucy simply gave him a knowing, saddened look before sitting down in front of her monitor. Nothing needed to be said, they were all painfully aware of the night’s failed mission.
Desmond was the last to appear, and as he did so he kept silent, something that was uncharacteristically rare, yet the others were so preoccupied that no one thought to mention it. Instead Shaun found himself barking something about being “short of time”, and insisting that Desmond be put into the Animus (and out of his thoughts) as soon as possible. Rebecca begrudging complied and began fussing around with the machine, whilst Desmond sat down and waited patiently. From across the room, his intense eyes met with Shaun’s, and for a moment they both simply stared, neither seemingly sure of what to do next. And then it was there, so fleeting and subtle that no one else would have even noticed it. A smile. A sign to Shaun that although Desmond hadn’t forgotten, he would stay true to his word. There would be no reminders that just this once, Shaun had needed him.
And although he knew that they would never talk about it, not really anyway, it somehow helped knowing that if he ever needed to, Shaun finally had someone he trusted enough to let them in.
So what did you think? If you have a free second, don't hesitate in letting me know your thoughts! But in the mean time, thank you so so much for reading this far. :)
Just Being Me
xxxxxxxxxxxx