Okay so this is just a one-shot based of "Badassassin" by allahdammit on DeviantArt

I'd put the link but no matter where I put the spaces, it keeps deleting parts of it, sorry.

Anyway, as I was scrolling through the comments, I saw, "Someone please write a fanfic about this", so I complied.

Rest assured, I'm not giving up on my other stories, I actually just finished writing out my notes for chapter three of "Broken Where We Stand" so don't worry. I just took a short break to write this and I'll be back to my multi-chapter stories tomorrow.

Anyway please enjoy what I managed to come up with for the pic.

Malik Al-Sayf looked up from his map as he heard a thump from the other room and sighed. Just what he needed right now, for the novice responsible for everything wrong in his life to come and disrupt him while he was hard at work, creating maps for field assassins like him to use.

He'd only sent the man to gather intelligence about an hour ago, surely he wasn't finished already. Regardless of whatever scraps of information he'd managed to pick up from Malik's directions, he doubted it would be enough to justify an assassination.

He laid down his quill and rolled up the map he was currently working on before turning to put away his reference book with all his small sketches and notes of the various cities in and pulled down the book he used to record missions and assassination assignments in.

As he was turned from the door, he heard Altair enter but paid him no mind, better he just pretend he wasn't there until he either spoke or wandered out. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he realised he couldn't really pretend to be looking for a book anymore, this was his bureau so, obviously, he knew exactly where everything was. Any fool should know that Malik was putting on a show to ignore the novice assassin but Altair wasn't just any fool, he was a special kind of idiot, and one that Malik had no time for,

"Malik..." began Altair.

Annoyed, Malik turned around and growled out, "Come to waste more of my time?"

"Not quite..." began Altair, as Malik noted he was breathing heavily and was hunched over slightly. Frowning, he stepped as close as the counter would allow for a better look, what was wrong?

"Then what is it? Spit it out." Malik ordered.

Altair managed a small smirk at the Dai's tone before he complied. "I found Talal. I was about to return to you when I was spotted by one of the guards", he winced suddenly before continuing, "Before I had time to escape, Talal had all his men after me. I...retreated", he looked away, seemingly ashamed of the fact that he couldn't take on a whole army, single-handedly. "I thought I was safe, that I had escaped, but one of the guards found me in an alley and engaged me. I fought him off eventually but not before I sustained significant damage..." he trailed off.

It was then that Malik noticed the hand clasped to his side and the small pool of blood that was forming there. He sighed to himself. Stupid novice. He goes out to do a simple scout of the area and comes back bleeding out on the Dai's floor.

"And I suppose that you need me to clean and dress your wounds?" inquired Malik, knowingly.

Altair glanced to the side and nodded. Malik fought the urge to laugh at him, not wanting to appear to smug, but he had to admit that the Assassin deserved this, and a lot more besides. In fact, he had a half a mind to bathe the bandages in manure before applying them to Altair's wounds so he might die of infection but quickly shook his head to rid himself of this idea. Al Mualim clearly had some sort of plan for Altair, why else would he spare him?

He decided it would not do any good to question the will of their master or to fantasize about the death of the novice before him, so he simply reached under the counter for the medicinal kit he kept there before placing it on the counter-top and using his one arm to propel himself over it, slamming his feet down on the other side to keep himself from crashing into the other man.

He led the demoted Assassin back out to the other room and ordered him to lie down on the pile of cushions in the corner of the room. Altair complied and shifted around to make himself comfortable - or at least as comfortable as he was going to get with a sword wound to the side.

Malik took a dagger out of the front of his belt and set to work on cutting away the cloth that was in his way before he sat back and assessed the wound.

Beneath the small square of material that he had removed, Malik couldn't see much else besides a deep gash, surrounded by a significant amount of blood. He got to work on clearing away the red liquid but after a few minutes, he realised it wasn't making a difference. It just kept coming and if they continued like this, Altair was going to bleed out.

Not that he didn't deserve it but it would look bad if he was found dead, at Malik's bureau of a sword wound with his blood all over Malik's hands. He sighed and set to work on closing the wound instead.

He warned Altair to brace to find that the man was barely conscious by this point. He cursed under his breath and fumbled about in the medicinal kit to find what he needed to close the wound.

He soon found the small, metal needle needed to fix the wound but he couldn't find anything to close the wound with. He swore and ripped the thread that folded his empty sleeve from his djellaba before struggling to attach it to the needle with one hand. He finally managed and looked down at Altair who had stopped moving, he leant down and was both relieved and disappointed to find him still breathing - if very lightly.

He said a quick prayer to a God he didn't believe in before pressing the metal into the flesh. Altair's body jerked slightly but, otherwise, he made no show that he'd even felt it.

Malik worked to close the wound as quickly as possible and swore as he almost lost the needle in the bloody mess before him, twice. Finally, he finished closing the wound and tied the thread, lifting the needle upwards and grabbing the bloody thread in his teeth, pulling the knots tight before the thread snapped.

It wasn't exactly his best work but it should suffice. He cleaned up the blood that surrounded the area he had worked on before returning to the inside of the bureau, turning left and opening a small wooden door to his private quarters. He cleaned up in the bathroom but still felt somewhat tainted by the blood he'd had on his hands.

Malik decided then that next time Altair needed his wounds seeing to, he could do it himself.

Sighing, he went back out for the final time to dress the wound in some fresh bandages before he went back inside and prepared for bed.

The next morning, Malik awoke to find Altair gone. He was no-where to be found inside the bureau and even when Malik pulled himself onto the roof of the building, he saw no sign of the Assassin. In fact, the only sign that he had been there at all was a few specks of blood on the floor that Altair had missed in his clean-up. Still, it was thoughtful of him to have actually made an effort to clean up his mess before he left, Malik couldn't fault him for that - even if he did do a terrible job of it.

Giving up, as he had no idea where the novice was, Malik went back inside, behind the counter, pulled out his note book, unrolled his map, and continued his work from the day before as if nothing had happened, such was the life of a rafiq.

It was several months before he saw Altair again, truth be told, he'd almost forgotten about him - his grief no longer controlled him as it used to, though it did heavily influence his actions so seeing Altair appear at the doorway of the bureau still irritated him.

"Safety and peace, Malik" greeted the man.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" replied Malik, tone oozing with sarcasm.

Altair didn't seem to notice as he spoke, "I have returned to kill Talal. I have spent the last few months recuperating and gathering information regarding my other targets but Al Mualim wishes for Talal to be the first to die."

Malik sighed, this was just perfect, "Just try not to get yourself stabbed this time, novice".

Altair's eyebrow twitched at the recurring nickname but he ignored it, "I will be needing a feather".

Malik sighed, "First, you need to tell me what you have learned so I may judge if you are ready for your mission".

"Very well", began the man, "here's what I know: he traffics in human lives, kidnapping Jerusalem's citizens and selling them into slavery. His base is a warehouse located inside the Barbican north of here. As we speak, he prepares a caravan for travel. I'll strike while he's inspecting his stock."

Malik considered this and decided it would suffice, "Fair enough, I give you leave to go", he replied.

Altair nodded and left as quickly as he had appeared. Malik shook his head and continued drawing the intricate lines on his map, cursing as his hand shook momentarily and he drew a shaky line.

It could not have been more than a few hours before Altair returned to the bureau. Malik said nothing as he showed him the feather and said, "It is done". He simply shrugged and continued adding the finishing touches to the updated map of Jerusalem.

"That's it? You have nothing to say to me? No words of wisdom? Surely, I have failed in some spectacular way, as per usual?!", shouted Altair.

Malik shrugged again and dismissed him. Stupid novice, couldn't he tell that he was busy?

He wasn't at all shocked or surprised when Altair slammed his fist down on the counter, merely annoyed as he heard, "Fine, then I shall return to Al Mualim! My work here is done...". He stormed out.

Again, Malik just couldn't bring himself to care. He'd been busy of late and didn't have time to acknowledge the Assassin who thought he could just disappear after almost dying in front of Malik without so much as a 'goodbye'?

Wait, what was he thinking? What did he care of the novices actions? He shook his head and told himself that he didn't care, not at all, before tucking the note book into his belt and climbing out of the bureau to ensure that he had captured every inch of the city.

When he returned to the bureau, he was glad to find that the rooftop tour of the city seemed to have cleared his head a little, but less glad to find Altair napping on the cushions where he had been sewn up several months ago.

Malik walked up to him and kicked him in the ribs - not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to hurt. "Wake up, novice. Sleep on your own time".

Altair swore and jumped to his feet, "I wasn't sleeping, I was simply resting awhile while I waited for you to return." he stated.

"Call it what you will", began Malik, "the fact remains that you are supposed to be halfway to Masyaf right now".

To his surprise, Altair simply grinned at him and stepped towards him, forcing him backwards, inside of the bureau. When Altair was stood in the doorway, he smirked and replied with, "But Malik, you still need to check my wound, make sure it's healing properly".

Malik took another half-step backwards before he remembered that he was ranked much higher than this novice and had nothing to fear and so he took a step forwards to show this.

Altair simply acted as though he hadn't noticed, as if he still held all the power in the world in his hands. Those same hands reached down to the front of his robes - which Malik noted were knew as he had cut his old ones apart to access the sword wound in his side. He hooked his fingers into the folds of his robes and pulled them apart, the material, effortlessly, coming undone.

A few seconds and his whole chest was bared. "Well? Will you take a look at my wound Malik?". As he said this, he ran his hands up his body, climbing up and over his abs and his pectoral muscles until his hands came to rest on the ledge above the door frame.

He licked his lips in what Malik could only guess as anticipation - but anticipation of what?

"Come now, Malik, don't be shy. Is this really how the fearsome Al-Sayf - Dai of Jeusalem - acts in the company of a handsome, young Assassin?" he questioned.

Malik frowned, was Altair being...playful? He decided this was just too strange for his liking but he couldn't exactly voice his discomfort so he decided to get this over with as quickly as possible.

He stepped up to Altair and moved the side of his robe out of the way so he could inspect the wound. As he had suspected, it was nothing but a scar now, buried amongst dozens of others. He took a step back and spoke with a voice that he hoped sounded clear and confident, "See? Your wound has fully healed as I knew it would have. It does not need to be inspected. Now please correct your clothing so you might appear somewhat presentable on you way back to Al Mualim."

Altair simply smirked at him, yet again, "Malik, you misunderstand, I need you to check all of my scars, for...signs of infection".

Malik sighed, "Altair, were you perhaps dropped on your head at birth? Scars cannot become infected. That's a fact"

The other man frowned, "Please, Malik, just so I can be sure that there is nothing to worry about?"

Now it was Malik's turn to frown, did Altair just say 'please'? Truly, today was a strange day, indeed.

He wanted to say no but at the same time...he figured it would just be best to give Altair what he wanted so that he could get back to doing what he was supposed to do.

He sighed and stepped as close as he could to Altair without pressing his body flush against him, and reached out his hand to stroke each scar in turn. The Assassin's chest was littered with them and he soon lost count of which ones he'd already checked and ended up feeling some of them two or three times.

He kept his touches light so as not to cause any discomfort and trailed his fingers from mark to mark, running his knuckles over the plain of his chest, gently grazing over his abdomen and the older man's muscles.

Altair, in truth, was less than a year older than Malik but right now, he felt like a student, learning how the human body should look and feel from the perfect specimen. He briefly caught himself wondering what the man tasted like and shook his head. This had gone too far. He stopped his ministrations and retracted his hand.

Before he could turn away, Altair grabbed him by the wrist before he realised what was happening and had him pressed against the doorway. Malik was confused but didn't show it when he spoke, "You are absolutely fine Altair, there is no sign of infection, everything is as it should be".

He could have sworn he heard Altair growl in his ear then and found that he rather liked the idea for some reason. "Stop it, Malik", he warned.

But Malik would not rise to the bait, "Stop what?" he questioned in as innocent a tone as he could muster. He had to admit, as wrong as he knew this situation was, he was rather enjoying it. To see the fun, playful side of Altair, a side he doubted many had ever seen."

Again, he heard Altair growl, he knew it was real this time, he could feel the vibrations in his ear and he loved it.

"Malik..."

"Altair?..."

He was flung around so he had his back pressed against the doorway now and he was facing Altair who was glaring at him from under his cowl.

Time stopped as an eternity passed them by, an eternity of nothing but short pants and one burning question, who would move first?

They stared into each other's eyes, Malik's expression calm and focused while Altair's was fierce and untamed.

In the end, neither was sure who made the first move, only that one second they were still, and the next they both had their lips on each other, tongues invading each other's mouths. They battled for dominance over the kiss, Altair wanting to prove himself to Malik, while he only wanted to keep his pride.

A few moments passed and still, neither had won. Frustrated, Altair grinded their crotches together, causing Malik to moan. He smirked as he took over, he had won and Malik knew it, but he no longer cared.

This man had taken everything from him but the second time, he was giving it up willingly. He wanted to be taken by this mesmerising Assassin who maintained control in every situation.

He knew this was wrong, they both did. Every person and religion said so, but since when did Malik and Altair listen to anyone else?

The sun began to set over Jerusalem and tonight belonged to these two Assassins that once shared such hatred of one another but now felt only passion. And as the night went on, they reveled in that passion again, and again, and again.

Haha, sorry for the lack of sexy detail at the end there but I've never written gay sex scene and apparently, the first time is not exactly as nice an experience as it's made out to be and actually includes a lot of blood and pain and awkwardness and I didn't really want to write that so... yeah... just use your imaginations.

Anyway, please let me know what you thought of this and if you haven't already then check out "Badassassin" by allahdammit on DeviantArt because that's what this whole fic was based off.

Hope you enjoyed and now I'll get back to writing my multi-chapter fics, sorry.

Vale,

Vitacazzo