Cliche Endings Need Not Apply (except for that one)

A Word: And here endith the crack fic. There may be another short from Altair's POV. Not sure yet.

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"No," said the man. "There is only a deformed little Cinderella from my first wife, but she cannot possibly be the bride."

The prince told him to send her to him, but the mother answered, "Oh, no, she is much too dirty. She cannot be seen."

But the prince insisted on it, and they had to call Cinderella. She first washed her hands and face clean, and then went and bowed down before the prince, who gave her the golden shoe. She sat down on a stool, pulled her foot out of the heavy wooden shoe, and put it into the slipper, and it fitted her perfectly.

When she stood up the prince looked into her face, and he recognized the beautiful girl who had danced with him. He cried out, "She is my true bride."

The stepmother and the two sisters were horrified and turned pale with anger. The prince, however, took Cinderella onto his horse and rode away with her. As they passed by the hazel tree, the two white pigeons cried out:

Rook di goo, rook di goo!
No blood's in the shoe.
The shoe's not too tight,
This bride is right!

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Desmond wakes up overly hot from Connor wrapped tightly around him and a hand shoved down into his pants. It's not his own hand. "Ah," Desmond chokes as Connor's hand moves. Fingers curling inexpertly around him, and an answering hardness grinding against his back.

"Morning," Connor's voice is rough and hoarse in the best way possible and Desmond is waking up like this every morning for the rest of his life. Maybe even beyond that too. Soft lips press to his neck before Connor nips at the skin. A sharp press of teeth that makes Desmond push harder into his hand and moan.

"Fuck, Connor!" It's awkward but Desmond manages to twist an arm back and shove it between them. He can't get a good grip on Connor because the man refuses to move far enough away, but he can sort of cup his hand around his covered dick. Connor appreciates it immensely going by his hitched breathing. "Yeah, just-"

Connor growls and the sound is a lot better now than any time he'd tried it before. He grinds into Desmond's hand and moans brokenly before coming, soaking the pants he still insists on borrowing from Desmond despite the fact they're far too small for him. Not that Desmond will ever complain about that. Desmond groans as Connor shivers against him and thrust forward against his now lax hand helplessly. "Connor!"

His hand moves and tightens fast. Connor's breathing unevenly against his neck and his voice is absolutely wrecked as he says, "Now, do it now, Desmond."

Desmond makes some really high pitched noises as he comes that he'll be embarrassed about later. Later when Connor isn't kissing his neck and coaxing every single one out of him.

"I like the way you sound in the morning," Connor murmurs when they're both spent and lazing in the bed as the sun rises. They have no place to be and nothing to do until afternoon. "I always have."

"Nnh," Desmond doesn't think he's going to ever get over how easily Connor seems to overload his brain with only a few words. A fact that he's caught onto very quickly and exploits ruthlessly when he feels like it. "You like the way I sound all the time."

"True," he grins at Connor's soft laugh. "Hungry?"

"Not yet," Desmond denies even as his stomach tries to rumble, because he doesn't want to move just yet. Connor hums in agreement and they don't move again for a while.

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Ziio catches Desmond before he can slip out the door and he bites back a groan as she rubs at his cheek with one cool finger. Her finger is blackened when she pulls away. A faint smile pulls her lips up but he can tell she's laughing by the way her eyes dance. "You know you don't need to play with ashes anymore, Desmond."

"I know," Desmond tries not to flush in embarrassment but doesn't think he's very successful going by her growing smile. "It's habit! I can't help it anymore."

Ziio's laugh fills the hall and Desmond feels some of the tension he'd picked up drain out of him at it. He bends when she pulls and accepts the kiss she presses to his forehead. A beat longer than normal, and he knows that means Connor somehow managed to get out of the house without seeing her first. "Go deal with yours. I will handle mine."

Connor is waiting down the street for him. A thunderous expression on his face that's frightening some of the people walking by, making them go faster than they normally would. Desmond leans against a half wall next to him. "Hey, you took off pretty fast."

Desmond should be surprised at the way Connor and Haytham seem to be butting heads every few minutes. It doesn't though, because Connor's got this thing going where if he doesn't like something he speaks up about it immediately. Voicing his disagreement and Haytham is very used to people not disagreeing with him. It's a conflict that makes the two men frosty and prone to sniping at each other.

Ziio thinks it will settle eventually, that it would have happened far earlier without the curse. Desmond kinda hopes she's right because neither Connor nor Haytham like the arguments, and always get a little depressed over them when separated.

"I just," Connor stops and breathes out a frustrated breath, the anger leaving him in an instant. He looks sheepish when he looks down to Desmond again. "I think it was easier for us to get along when I was a mouse."

It was, and that's as much Haytham's fault as Connor's. "Probably, but you know he doesn't want you to be cursed again, right? He's your dad and he loves you."

"He's my dad and he's pigheaded," Connor mutters but his shoulders are relaxing a bit more and he's smiling just a bit. He rolls his shoulders and seems to shove aside the rest of his frustration with ease. "Doesn't matter. We will be late if we stand around here talking about it."

"Being late is worse than death," Desmond says as he pushes off from the wall and he's only partially joking.

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Connor and Desmond don't get a second glance going through the smaller side gate at the palace anymore. They've become known faces and their visits don't even need to be scheduled anymore to ensure they aren't tossed out. They stick to the schedule though purely for the fact that neither of them wants to walk in on things they will regret seeing.

Malik is wearing a fine set of clothing that actually fits him. Trousers, shirt, coat, and boots. It's still a shock at times to see him in that and not some dress, but Desmond knows he'll get over that soon enough. He'd been mildly impressed that Altair hadn't ordered some frilly dress for Malik to wear when he planted the tree. The man seems to love irritating Malik for no reason at all.

"Are you still playing with ashes?" Malik asks incredulously when Desmond slumps down on a raised root of his tree. It's been planted in a far corner of the royal garden and looks like it's been there for ages. "Go wash your hands, Desmond. You're not touching any of these books until you do."

Desmond considers not washing them, but Malik is not above tossing him into the fountain if he needs to. He sighs and pulls himself back up to go to where the clear water runs through a pipe.

"Math?" Connor's voice rises from behind him. Dubious and filled with dread, and Desmond smirks because Connor's had a lot of ground to catch back up to now that Malik can properly quiz him.

Desmond lets his hands drip a bit and looks around at the garden. It's peaceful with the familiar scent of Malik's tree winding through the blooming flowers. He'll go and sit next to Connor as Malik tries to beat some numbers into their heads. Maybe physically if he feels like it will do them any good.

In a few hours, Altair will come out and distract Malik long enough for Connor and Desmond to sneak away. They might even run into William when they walk around. The old general has taken to showing them around and talking about a lot of things. Everything but the one thing that he seems to be keeping back. Desmond's kind of curious to find out what the man is itching to say, but it's funnier watching him struggle with it.

All in all, Desmond's pretty content with his life. Things could be worse and he's happy with what he has now.

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