Full Description: Fresh from his Abstergo escape, Desmond is still trying to get used to living life through the Animus. Things are already tense enough between Desmond and Shaun, the historian on the Animus support team, and it's only made worse when a fight between them leads to a confused but passionate kiss.

Author's Note: [I am writing this complete thing to be better quality, and in compliance with FF's enforced rating system! This version will contain no graphic or MA content, but the full story with all MA content will be submitted to both my tumblr and AO3. I am in the process of getting both set up, so it might be some time before I update this with links to both. Thank you all for your support, I love you all!

~rainbow]

CHAPTER ONE

XIXIX

One moment there was hard roof tiles beneath him, the sun warming his back, he was tracking his target with perfect secrecy. But his next footstep didn't land on the roof as he expected, it only sunk into a gap of empty air. For a moment the Assassin felt a tug of panic claw at his chest before he realized that he wasn't doing the actual falling, it was the rest of the world. Florence began to slip away from him, deconstructing itself into a grid of white lines, and then fading away all together. There was an odd pull in his muscles, followed by a light tingle of sensation as his nerves seemed to spark to life again.

There was a final prick on his arm, someone removing the port connecting him to the Animus presumably, and then he was able to open his eyes, blurry vision blinking in the view of the pale tile ceiling. His senses took a moment to focus, and he felt a bit nauseous as a wave of dizziness threatened to slap him. In his own body, he felt sluggish and slow compared to the feather light Assassin reflexes of his ancestor. His own natural reflexes were slowly improving, but they weren't yet comparable to Ezio's rapier wits, and he doubted he'd ever reach the level of awareness Altair had possessed.

"Everything okay?" Desmond mumbled as he slowly sat up, rubbing his arm and trying to adjust to the odd sensation of being back in his own body. It felt like he was spending more time as Ezio than he was as himself, and fresh from the Animus he felt unsynchronized from his own body. The sensation always wore off after a minute or two, but the oddity of the feeling still felt new enough to be unsettling.

"Everything is fine, but you need a break and Rebecca and I need to leave and make an emergency supply run. We didn't realize how low we were on gasoline for the generators until the low fuel signs started coming up, so... off we have to go." Lucy said it with a little smile as she walked over to him, though she also seemed tense, probably annoyed by the fact that the Animus progress would have to be delayed. "I at least need you awake with Shaun to hold down the fort here."

Desmond gave a little sigh, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. The Animus chair was comfortable, much more comfortable than Abstergo's stiff table he had to lay on previously, but sitting in the damn thing for so long could really give you some oddly cramped back muscles.

"You really think Abstergo is going to come crashing in while you're gone?" He asked it with a pout, almost like a child being told they had to share toys. He didn't necessarily mind being left alone, but being left alone with Shaun was a completely different matter. The historian was frigid cold at best, a British perfected 'if you have nothing of importance to say, then kindly get the fuck out or be prepared to be sarcastically belittled,' kind of air radiated from him. But there was something about Shaun that kept Desmond coming back to pester him. He wasn't sure if he was just stubbornly settled on trying to befriend the historian, if it was just to see what sort of long winded insults Shaun could come up with to tell him to fuck off, or if it was a combination of both. And there was the rare occasion when Desmond's pestering would hit a topic of interest in Shaun's verbal assault, and it would end up turning into a somewhat friendly conversation.

But most of the time Shaun was just an ass.

Lucy gave a little shake of her head at Desmond's question, ignoring his childish behavior and speaking her her typical matter-of-fact tone, "Not really, but we can never be too cautious. I don't want you passed out in the Animus should anything go wrong."

"You comin' Lucy?" Rebecca's voice called from the lower floor of the warehouse, followed by the sound of their car starting.

"In a second!" The blonde returned quickly before looking back to Desmond,
"We'll be away for a few hours at the least, we're low on a lot of 'big' things that we figured we may as well get while we have to go out, so we'll have to hit a few different stores to get them all without raising any flags from Abstergo."
She turned, ready to walk out the door when she paused, looking back over her shoulder with a knowing smirk, ".. and Shaun?" Her blue eyes fixed on Shaun's back, even though he remained stubbornly faced at his computer, "Make sure Desmond gets his nightly testing, and try to play nice with one another, okay?"

Shaun gave a small grumble of seeming agreement, but didn't take his eyes away from his work. Hunched over his computer he was oddly silent, refraining from making his usual crabby side commentary.
With a small roll of her eyes and a silently mouthed 'good luck' at Desmond, Lucy left, her boots clinking loudly down the stairs.

Desmond closed his eyes and took in a few deep breaths, listening to the steel garage doors falling shut as the girls drove off.

He hadn't been in the animus more than a week, but he was already making impressive progress. The bleeding effect was easily synching with him, his free-running alone had gone from virtually nonexistent to amateur-level in just a few days. His combat skills were getting better as well, though Lucy still managed to kick his ass without breaking a sweat during their nightly spars. Odd as it was, he felt his body more easily settle into mimicking the climbing style of Altair as opposed to Ezio, as if the older memories connected with him better. His fighting techniques were all Ezio's though, he preferred fighting in close combat with the hidden blade like the Italian, whereas Altair had seemed to prefer his sword when push came to shove.

The young Assassin opened his eyes and glanced at Shaun's back, tense and uninviting. Though his Animus routine had fallen into place rather naturally after the first few days, Desmond's standing with the historian was still on rather brittle ground.
Shaun was usually the one to get him up in the morning - the girls quickly figured out that Shaun's relentless and sarcastic nagging was the best way to get Desmond up on time - and after a short breakfast (that Lucy normally forced them all to eat together), Desmond would be plugged into the Animus before the sun could rise. Once a few solid hours of work had gone by Desmond was let out so he could eat, get a drink, and spend a few minutes stretching his legs. He was usually given half an hour to do this, and then it was back into the Animus until well after dark. The day concluded with Lucy running various tests for speed, endurance, combat, and the general progress of the bleeding effect on him, and after this Desmond would either try and sleep, or try to talk to the others until they went off to bed.

Lucy usually brushed him away with apologies about being too busy, while Rebecca seemed to enjoy chatting loudly with him while she worked. She wasn't a bad multi-tasker in all honesty; she could patch a code, eat a sandwich and talk to Desmond seamlessly all at once. Shaun usually had some smart ass way of telling Desmond to go away, and if Desmond persisted, the historian would either cave in and talk to him for a spell, or he'd whine to one of the girls about Desmond's apparent stalker complex.

Tonight didn't seem to be any different in terms of the love lost between them. The longer Desmond looked at him, the more it seemed like Shaun's back was turned to him on purpose. A small bubble of annoyance rose in his chest as he fixated on the historian's thinly muscled, but surprisingly broad shoulders.

What was it with this guy? Did he really enjoy being an angry, lonely and somewhat nerdy history geek?

Desmond chuckled though, his anger momentarily broken by a fond memory... or rather, one of Altair's fond memories. Sometimes talking with (or just being with) Shaun felt nostalgic, he was similar in more ways than one to Malik. Having a little memory bank of Altair's verbal tactics with the Dai seemed to come in handy with Shaun. Give him a verbal punch or two, work him up, and then lure him into a topic of interest.
But at least Malik's abrasiveness towards Altair had a well based history behind it, Desmond hadn't even done anything to Shaun.

They sat in silence for what couldn't have been more than a minute, but that minute drug on for what could have been ages for all it felt like. Desmond, not able to stand it, finally blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "What time is it?" His voice broke the silent air like a whip.

Shaun's back seemed to arch with annoyance, not unlike a cat raising its hackles, and he turned slightly to throw his voice over his shoulder, "Just after 6:30, give or take a few. And good god Desmond, I'm not deaf you know. You don't have to yell to get my attention." His tone had it's usual edge, chilly and sarcastic. With that he turned back to his computer, his typing sounded louder than it had, like he was taking out his unjustified anger on the poor little keys.

"Good god at yourself Shaun." Desmond huffed under his breath, standing up, "I'm gonna make some coffee, you want any?" He asked as he started to shuffle over to the main hallway, towards the door just to the right which led to the kitchen.

"Coffee is fine." The historian snapped quickly, again not bothering to look up from his work,
"Just... make sure you add in some milk and sugar, yeah?" He said it slowly after a pause, his eyes flickering up and over the rims of his glasses to meet Desmond's.

"Milk and sugar, got it." Desmond repeated with a lazy thumbs up, dragging his heels as he opened the door to the small kitchen and stepped in. He left the door to it open as he grabbed two mugs and the coffee grounds from cupboards above the brewer.

Yawning as he measured in the correct amount of both grounds and water, he stood back as he set it to start. It'd take a few minutes for the first cup to be ready, so he rested his hips against the counter parallel to the machine, watching the coffee drip into the waiting pot.

Watching this process was oddly relaxing, it was so boring it was both mind numbing and comforting. He had always watched his coffee brew in the afternoons before work, he was usually up late working behind the bar or going out with various friends, and since he didn't have to go back into work until 5 in the evening, he would always stand and wait for the first cup of coffee to fill up, and usually fall asleep on his feet for a few minutes while he did so.

After all, it was impossible to function without a strong cup of coffee.

XIXIX

"Desmond... Desmond!" A rough hand on his shoulder brought the young Assassin back to attention.

With a gasp Desmond realized someone was pressing against him, and he instinctively tried to jump back, only to awkwardly flop against the counter he had been leaning on. After he had finished with this highly pointless and rather embarrassing display, he realized it was only Shaun - and who else could it have been? - trying to wake him.

"Come on you lazy baby," The distinctly English voice huffed with annoyance, and did Desmond really hear the little laugh that followed, or was he just imagining things?

Desmond groaned and dismissed it from his mind, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes, "Gaaah," He moaned into his palm, "I dozed off for just a moment and..."
He looked over to the oven clock; 6:48 it read. He'd been asleep on his feet for the better part of ten minutes.

Shaun's hand, which had lingered on his shoulder, gave Desmond a quick pat, "I was wondering what you were up to in here, it's a good thing the coffee is done hmm?"

He phrased it as an obviously rhetorical question, immediately removing his hand so he could turn to start pouring the coffee into the waiting mugs.

"Anything in yours?" Shaun asked nonchalantly from over his shoulder, pausing as he hovered a spoonful of sugar over one of the cups.

"Nothing, thanks." Desmond returned slowly, curiously watching Shaun's back. His tone was almost, dare he say it, friendly. Even his typical sarcasm had been toned down a notch and given a softer edge.

"Shaun...?" Desmond said his name softly, like he wouldn't have minded if the historian hadn't been able to hear him.

"Mmm?" Came the humming reply, followed by the sound of the spoon chinking against Shaun's mug as he stirred in a large helping of sugar.

Desmond paused, not wanting to ruin the temporary peace between them, but equally wanting to know what had caused the sudden change in mood, "Are you... feeling alright?"

"Overlooking that I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in a few weeks, you could say I've never felt better." Some of Shaun's usual tone came through as he spoke, but again, he didn't sound spiteful like normal.
He turned around, handing Desmond a mug full of hot, almost pitch black coffee, "Why do you ask?"

Desmond grabbed the cup quickly, eagerly bringing it close to his face so he could sniff at it. Even if it was still too hot to sip, the smell alone was invigorating.
"You just seemed so pissed off out there earlier - even more than usual - and now you're being almost... nice." Desmond looked away as he spoke in stammered fragments, giving a small shrug. He began to brace himself for the explosion, but it never came.

Shaun was silent until Desmond finally looked up, meeting his eyes,

"What Desmond, do you like when I'm a complete ass to you? Because I can be, if you want. I can make your whole life a living hell if that's what gets you off."

"It doesn't get me off, you prick!" Desmond instantly retorted, feeling his cheeks color.

Shaun gave a little smirk, taking a cautious sip of his coffee, "Touchy about that, are we mate?"

"No, and... and don't make me get off track!" Desmond huffed, realizing his hand was burning from how hard he was gripping the hot mug. Loosening his grip he took in a deep breath, trying to restore the previous calm that had been between them, "It's just nice to be around you without feeling like you hate my guts, that's all." He shrugged again, trying to mimic Shaun's cool move of sipping his drink, but only succeeded in burning the tip of his tongue.

"Well, I'll have you know I can be the nicest of gents when the occasion calls for it," Shaun replied in the smuggest 'holier than thou' tone Desmond could ever recall hearing, "but you're generally too annoying to have a coherent conversation with."

"It's not like spending time with you is an exact walk in the park either." Desmond hissed as he looked away again, focusing stubbornly on a cupboard. Fuck being nice or trying to make peace, this guy was just out to ruffle his feathers.

It sounded like Shaun gave a sigh, he was probably rolling his eyes too, "Fine then, pout if you want. Lucy said she still wants you to do your nightly training, so finish your coffee and then we can get it over with." The historian sounded almost like a parent might, with a tired and chiding tone.

"Can't I have a break?" Desmond immediately pleaded, his eyes breaking from his death-stare into the cupboard to look desperately at Shaun, "Just for one ni-"

"No." There wasn't any room for debate in Shaun's tone,

"But I-"

"No, Desmond. No." Shaun cut him off again, shaking his head, "I'm not going to get bitched out by Lucy because little miss here wants to be lazy."

Desmond sighed bitterly, taking a large sip of his coffee and not caring about the burn it made as it went down, "And here I was thinking you'd had a change of heart." He grumbled, feeling childish and embarrassed.

"You can't teach an old horse new tricks Desmond." Shaun tsked as he walked out of the small kitchen, back towards his work station, "I'll be waiting for you when you're ready. If you don't show up in fifteen minutes, I'll assume you're ready anyway and come and get you, 'kay?" Whatever friendliness Shaun had been exhibiting before was gone, his blank expression and sarcastically scathing voice were back.

Desmond watched Shaun walk away to sit at his computer. Red hot anger began to bloom in his chest, eating at him.

What was it with this guy?

XIXIX