Title: The Feminine Side of Britons (proof by laundry)

Why? I stumbled on a kink list and among those, there was exoticism and silk and all. And there I went. Th

Summary: Desmond finds something that should have remained hidden... and gets it out in the open, just because he can.

Warning: CRACK! There is nothing really kinky in it unless you squint a lot and let your imagination roam free at the end. And absolute OOCness of Shaun's part... or everyone... maybe.

Disclaimer: I tried to bribe the Rabbids into giving me the rights on those guys but failed. If I did, Tempars would sing the Knights of the Round Table song!

It's my first attempt at even trying to handle Desmond and Shaun (and the girls too), please tell me if something is wrong.

If you want smut or kinky assassin smex, be aware that there will be none. Thank you.

There are things that are better off left in a dark corner with no one thinking about them. But sadly, just like dirty laundry, it ends up out in the open for a public wash. And laundry is precisely what was bound to happen on that fateful Saturday, officially the weekday of chores and everything you normally postpone. Today, Desmond was the one for to sort out the laundry or not quite... it had been already sorted out... off with the cleaning. There was something he hated more than just manipulating dirty clothes... it was to sort them out when putting them to dry. He once made the mistake of putting Lucy's bra in Rebecca's bunch, only to get chaffed by girls-turned-into-furies. So today, he was going to be a good assassin and make sure everything is fine. And after Shaun's sheep pajamas, he was certain he had seen everything possible and nothing could surprise him anymore. But that was before... black silk panties-boxers, he wasn't sure which, seemed to appear in the clean stack. And no here he was, facing a very Shakespearian dilemma, underwears in hand and not knowing where to put it. Those were not his... certainly not Shaun's – true, he was a Brit, but heck, even Brits had some common sense! So... which of Lucy or Rebecca? Must be a boyfriend's thing because it looked a bit big for them... unless used as sleeping paj- wait... no he was NOT discussing the possible use of silk panties while wielding said panties in the pantry. He was not. Definitely. Oh gods, it was a task fitter for Ezio, too bad the man had been dead for centuries, Desmond was sure he'd have loved to investigate the matter. He wanted to facepalm. It just had to be him, really. Anytime something weird has to come up, he's sure to be on the frontline. Shaking his head, he shoved the offending article of clothing at the bottom of the laundry basket and proceeded to sort the rest out.

It was not only after having hesitated for five minutes as to whether a pair of jeans was Shaun's or Rebecca – who has the dreadful habit of wearing men's stuff when going around – and a few turns of singing 'Miss Kiss Kiss Bang' that Desmond came face to 'lace' with the panties of doom. Not lace per se, they were rather plain. Maybe too plain for women but really, he'd seen worse... it's not like he was staring at grandma's containing panties, really. But he was still at a loss... deciding to confront his 'roomates' later on, he put all the other clothes where they belonged, in each person's room – on their bed, he would never open a closet after having opened Lucy and getting nose to nose with a bright pink fluffy thing he can't think of as a dressing gown. It had been the scariest thing ever – aside from his first waking up at Abstergo with Vidic calling 'wakey wakey'... But no more dwelling on horrors for now.

Panties in hand, the walk purposeful of an Ezio in a crowd of swarming courtesan- wait, what? Oh well... damn bleeding effect. So yeah, here he was, prancing around with black silk panties in his hand. If only some Templars could see that... they'd die of a stroke on the spot. Once in the living room, he was met with three astonished pairs of eyes staring at him. Though Mr. Britannia-rules-and-you-suck merely looked as if he was bored to Hell.

Rebecca, ever the helpful one, asked him what on Earth he was doing with panties in his hand.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? He's aerating them so they won't feel oppressed in their drawers." Shaun was still Shaun no matter the situation, though he had a feeling he should remember something about the thing Desmond was holding.

Desmond did not really want to contradict Shaun, for it would bring forth his innate snarkiness and it was not something he enjoyed being subjected to.

"Actually, I wondered who here is more likely to be wearing those panties." However, nothing prepared Desmond for the outburst that followed this otherwise innocent question.

"These, dear American incult oaf, are boxers. Not panties as you so inaptly surmised."

There. The big brick in the pond that made Rebecca and Lucy look like their jaws suddenly got dislocated somehow to be left hanging open. And here stood Desmond with the boxers of discord in hand. Oh... Hell. Shaun's underwear... he was. Holding. Shaun's undies. The thought was so weird it was almost comical and he could not prevent that goofy grin from spreading on his face, making him look even more like a certain womanising ancestor of his.

"Silk? I thought it was more of a chick thing..."

"Desmond, it's not because you are a coarse barbarian than the rest of us should be as well." Clearly offended, Shaun swiftly got up to snatch the underwear from the assassin's grasp and make it for the door at record speed.

"One thing about Shaun: he's in very close touch with his feminine side."

"Rebecca, you are SO dead!" came the banshee-like scream from the end of the corridor. Apparently, Shaun has some awesome hearing when it concerns him – otherwise, he is just as deaf as one could be.

And for the rest of the evening, Desmond was stuck with thinking about what the hell is the feminine side of a man. If only he would have taken the few steps to Shaun's room.

Quite out of character, due to pent up feminine side wanting to express itself, Shaun was rolling in his bed, hugging the garment to his face, all the while murmuring in a smitten voice 'He touched it. He touched it and I can almost feel his touch.' Well, that was before he fainted from bloodloss.