[AC] two drabbles + meme fill
Sittin' In a Tree
(Altair/Malik, PG, for V!)
“Get out. You’re in my way,” Altair said, slurring over his words, and braced his hand against one of the overhanging branches. He tried not to think of his other foot dangling in midair, which normally wouldn’t have been a problem, but Malik always did have a knack for overbalancing him.
“And you chose a poor hiding spot,” Malik replied, breaking off with a smirk. His hood had come off from when he had hung upside-down and dropped in front of Altair, every move tampered with controlled, casual grace that did not stir a single leaf. It was only after he came forward to shove his tongue between Altair’s teeth that the tree rustled and Altair’s hand found broken twigs and loose petals in Malik’s hair-so maybe Malik wasn’t quite as collected as he appeared to be.
“It is only poor because you are in it,” Altair growled, bringing his foot up and against Malik’s chest to push him off-whether or not Malik fell made little difference to him. As silly and trivial as this hide-and-seek exercise was, Altair still hated the thought of failing it on account of something so stupid like making noise when Malik kissed him (not that he made much noise, obviously, but it was still distracting).
Following the momentum of the kick, Malik grabbed on to Altair’s boot and tipped over, wrapping his legs around the branch so that he wouldn’t fall. The next thing Altair knew, he was upside-down with Malik, the difference being that he only had one leg to hook over the branch while the other was still in Malik’s grasp. He did not flail, exactly, but he was having a hard time trying to right himself up.
“Let go!” he hissed, still mindful of the other novices that would be searching for them.
“You kicked me!”
“I’ll do it again if you don’t let go!”
Malik opened his mouth to say something, but his gaze fell to the ground and he stilled. Below them, a ‘seeker’ was glancing around, his body language relaxed and bored. Altair doubt the other novice would look up, too busy poking around in the more common hiding places like the haystacks. Even if he did, Altair knew that it would be too much effort to climb the tree to check, especially this one; no one ever bothered since there were no low-hanging branches to serve as climbing holds, though what they didn’t know was that it became significantly easier the higher it got.
The seeker did not linger near their tree and soon wandered off. Altair rolled his eyes, torn between being relieved and the need to criticize the other novice for his lack of observational skills. He twisted and turned-by then Malik had released his leg-and, after a considerable amount of time, swung himself right-side up again, red-faced and breathing hard.
Malik was also in the process of righting himself, looking a little too smug as he did. His mouth was wet all over and he used the back of his hand to wipe it. They were both wobbling from their perched positions, and Altair was willing to blame the dizziness on hanging upside-down, and not because of any kissing that may have occurred during that time. (Besides, Malik alone couldn’t have made him that lightheaded.) Scowling, he grabbed Malik by the hood and pulled him closer.
“Fine,” he said ungraciously. “You can stay in the tree.”
Untitled
(Altair/Malik, PG, Malik being reckless for once)
Malik may have underestimated Altair’s reaction when he limped into the bureau with his dai robe torn in several places, blood dripping down his face, and a darkening bruise over his cheek. He expected questions, obviously, but Altair had simply looked up from where he was sharpening his sword, stood, and strode out of the open chamber. Malik stared after him for a moment before he went to the fountain, cupping his hand under the water to wash the blood from his face.
The next time he glanced up, Altair had returned quicker than expected-though probably because he had known where all the medical supplies were from past experience. There was a roll of clean cloth tucked under the master assassin’s arm and a small jar of salve in his hand while the other gestured to the ground.
“Sit,” Altair ordered, and though he only said one word, the anger was apparent enough.
Malik ignored Altair and took the jar for himself, walking to the corner of cushions instead of the spot where Altair had pointed to; it would be more comfortable in any case, if Altair was going to play nursemaid for once. He sat, shrugging off his outer robe, and let Altair kneel in front of him, hands reaching out to hold both sides of Malik’s head. Altair ran a thumb next to the cut above his forehead, frowning.
“Whoever they were, I hope you killed them,” he eventually said, letting go. His thumb came away red, though he had not touched the cut directly.
“I did, with more difficulty than expected, it seemed,” Malik replied, a little amused that Altair had assumed them, implying that it would take more than a single person to injure Malik this much. Somehow, it made it a little easier to admit: “It was just one Templar.”
“One,” Altair repeated, sounding doubtful. His finger hooked over the first tie of Malik’s tunic, but he did not loosen it, attention drawn to the empty belt and sheath around Malik’s waist. With a darkening expression, he reached down to Malik’s boot and found that the small dagger was missing as well.
“That,” Malik explained, kicking away Altair’s prying hands, “was because I caught the city guards harassing a woman. The fight with the Templar happened after I’d run out of knives to throw, and I believe my sword is still stuck through one of the guard’s armor.”
Altair grabbed the salve, yanking out the stopper so hard that it flew from his fingers and landed at the opposite side of the room. “So you decided to fight the Templar weaponless,” he growled, not bothering to retrieve it. Leaning close, he smeared the salve over the cut, the motions gentle, though he crowded over Malik in a manner that was almost overbearing and threatening.
Malik’s brow knitted from the sting of the ointment. Even so, he managed to grit his teeth and meet Altair’s furious look with a grin, not at all intimidated. “It was just one Templar.”
Not liking the answer, Altair scowled and mercilessly put a daub of salve over a large scrape on Malik’s arm, regardless of Malik’s instinctive twitch to move away.
“I do not normally find you reckless,” Altair muttered, though there was not much he could say on whole without bringing up his own poor example. He seemed to realize this, his gaze flitting upwards for a moment, not happy that he had backed himself into a corner on his own.
“Well, it would have been a strange way of extracting revenge for all the times you dropped from the ceiling and bled on my floor,” Malik said, keeping still as Altair wrapped the cloth around his head, and jerked back when the master assassin tried to gag him. “Aha, you are the last person I’d expect to lecture me on being reckless-”
“I’m not lecturing,” Altair interrupted, pushing Malik further into the cushions. “And I know you are capable of taking care of yourself.”
Malik let out a short laugh, catching hold of Altair’s wrist in silent challenge. “Then why are you angry?”
Altair pursed his lips and threw Malik a look that clearly said he thought the dai was well aware of the answer already. “I still worry,” he said as graciously as he could until he added, “And that was a rather expensive sword you left behind.”
Malik had the decency to look apologetic. “It was an excellent gift put to very good use.”
That, at least, coaxed a smile from Altair.
“Then I suppose it was worth it,” he said, and pulled Malik back up so that they could finish tending to his wounds.
All to See
(Altair/Malik, NC17, reverse strip-tease)
( @ AO3 )
(Altair/Malik, PG, for V!)
“Get out. You’re in my way,” Altair said, slurring over his words, and braced his hand against one of the overhanging branches. He tried not to think of his other foot dangling in midair, which normally wouldn’t have been a problem, but Malik always did have a knack for overbalancing him.
“And you chose a poor hiding spot,” Malik replied, breaking off with a smirk. His hood had come off from when he had hung upside-down and dropped in front of Altair, every move tampered with controlled, casual grace that did not stir a single leaf. It was only after he came forward to shove his tongue between Altair’s teeth that the tree rustled and Altair’s hand found broken twigs and loose petals in Malik’s hair-so maybe Malik wasn’t quite as collected as he appeared to be.
“It is only poor because you are in it,” Altair growled, bringing his foot up and against Malik’s chest to push him off-whether or not Malik fell made little difference to him. As silly and trivial as this hide-and-seek exercise was, Altair still hated the thought of failing it on account of something so stupid like making noise when Malik kissed him (not that he made much noise, obviously, but it was still distracting).
Following the momentum of the kick, Malik grabbed on to Altair’s boot and tipped over, wrapping his legs around the branch so that he wouldn’t fall. The next thing Altair knew, he was upside-down with Malik, the difference being that he only had one leg to hook over the branch while the other was still in Malik’s grasp. He did not flail, exactly, but he was having a hard time trying to right himself up.
“Let go!” he hissed, still mindful of the other novices that would be searching for them.
“You kicked me!”
“I’ll do it again if you don’t let go!”
Malik opened his mouth to say something, but his gaze fell to the ground and he stilled. Below them, a ‘seeker’ was glancing around, his body language relaxed and bored. Altair doubt the other novice would look up, too busy poking around in the more common hiding places like the haystacks. Even if he did, Altair knew that it would be too much effort to climb the tree to check, especially this one; no one ever bothered since there were no low-hanging branches to serve as climbing holds, though what they didn’t know was that it became significantly easier the higher it got.
The seeker did not linger near their tree and soon wandered off. Altair rolled his eyes, torn between being relieved and the need to criticize the other novice for his lack of observational skills. He twisted and turned-by then Malik had released his leg-and, after a considerable amount of time, swung himself right-side up again, red-faced and breathing hard.
Malik was also in the process of righting himself, looking a little too smug as he did. His mouth was wet all over and he used the back of his hand to wipe it. They were both wobbling from their perched positions, and Altair was willing to blame the dizziness on hanging upside-down, and not because of any kissing that may have occurred during that time. (Besides, Malik alone couldn’t have made him that lightheaded.) Scowling, he grabbed Malik by the hood and pulled him closer.
“Fine,” he said ungraciously. “You can stay in the tree.”
Untitled
(Altair/Malik, PG, Malik being reckless for once)
Malik may have underestimated Altair’s reaction when he limped into the bureau with his dai robe torn in several places, blood dripping down his face, and a darkening bruise over his cheek. He expected questions, obviously, but Altair had simply looked up from where he was sharpening his sword, stood, and strode out of the open chamber. Malik stared after him for a moment before he went to the fountain, cupping his hand under the water to wash the blood from his face.
The next time he glanced up, Altair had returned quicker than expected-though probably because he had known where all the medical supplies were from past experience. There was a roll of clean cloth tucked under the master assassin’s arm and a small jar of salve in his hand while the other gestured to the ground.
“Sit,” Altair ordered, and though he only said one word, the anger was apparent enough.
Malik ignored Altair and took the jar for himself, walking to the corner of cushions instead of the spot where Altair had pointed to; it would be more comfortable in any case, if Altair was going to play nursemaid for once. He sat, shrugging off his outer robe, and let Altair kneel in front of him, hands reaching out to hold both sides of Malik’s head. Altair ran a thumb next to the cut above his forehead, frowning.
“Whoever they were, I hope you killed them,” he eventually said, letting go. His thumb came away red, though he had not touched the cut directly.
“I did, with more difficulty than expected, it seemed,” Malik replied, a little amused that Altair had assumed them, implying that it would take more than a single person to injure Malik this much. Somehow, it made it a little easier to admit: “It was just one Templar.”
“One,” Altair repeated, sounding doubtful. His finger hooked over the first tie of Malik’s tunic, but he did not loosen it, attention drawn to the empty belt and sheath around Malik’s waist. With a darkening expression, he reached down to Malik’s boot and found that the small dagger was missing as well.
“That,” Malik explained, kicking away Altair’s prying hands, “was because I caught the city guards harassing a woman. The fight with the Templar happened after I’d run out of knives to throw, and I believe my sword is still stuck through one of the guard’s armor.”
Altair grabbed the salve, yanking out the stopper so hard that it flew from his fingers and landed at the opposite side of the room. “So you decided to fight the Templar weaponless,” he growled, not bothering to retrieve it. Leaning close, he smeared the salve over the cut, the motions gentle, though he crowded over Malik in a manner that was almost overbearing and threatening.
Malik’s brow knitted from the sting of the ointment. Even so, he managed to grit his teeth and meet Altair’s furious look with a grin, not at all intimidated. “It was just one Templar.”
Not liking the answer, Altair scowled and mercilessly put a daub of salve over a large scrape on Malik’s arm, regardless of Malik’s instinctive twitch to move away.
“I do not normally find you reckless,” Altair muttered, though there was not much he could say on whole without bringing up his own poor example. He seemed to realize this, his gaze flitting upwards for a moment, not happy that he had backed himself into a corner on his own.
“Well, it would have been a strange way of extracting revenge for all the times you dropped from the ceiling and bled on my floor,” Malik said, keeping still as Altair wrapped the cloth around his head, and jerked back when the master assassin tried to gag him. “Aha, you are the last person I’d expect to lecture me on being reckless-”
“I’m not lecturing,” Altair interrupted, pushing Malik further into the cushions. “And I know you are capable of taking care of yourself.”
Malik let out a short laugh, catching hold of Altair’s wrist in silent challenge. “Then why are you angry?”
Altair pursed his lips and threw Malik a look that clearly said he thought the dai was well aware of the answer already. “I still worry,” he said as graciously as he could until he added, “And that was a rather expensive sword you left behind.”
Malik had the decency to look apologetic. “It was an excellent gift put to very good use.”
That, at least, coaxed a smile from Altair.
“Then I suppose it was worth it,” he said, and pulled Malik back up so that they could finish tending to his wounds.
All to See
(Altair/Malik, NC17, reverse strip-tease)
( @ AO3 )