Ideas for fics keep popping into my head during my classes. Good news? Lots of slashy goodness for you. Bad news? Failing grades for not paying attention in history for me.

Oh well, who needs a higher education anyway?

SO. For the sake of convenience and organization, I'm just going to start posting my shorter slashy fics here. There'll be some AltairxMalik, EzioxLeonardo, ShaunxDesmond, and whatever else my little brain cooks up. Okay? Okay.

Let's get on with it, then.



"Desmond, heads up, we're pulling you out."

Desmond blinked as the painfully white plane of the Animus' loading screen faded away and the interior of the hideout swam back into view. To his immediate right, Rebecca was swearing furiously at her terminal, spewing out profanities he had never even heard before. Lucy was trying to hide a grimace as she tugged the catheter out of his arm, and as far as Desmond could tell, Shaun was at his computer, pretending that he wasn't there in hopes that he wouldn't attract Rebecca's attention.

"Something wrong?" He asked Lucy, sitting up and rubbing a kink out of his neck as he snuck wary glances at Rebecca.

"The memory interface is overheating," Lucy explained with a sigh, "Something's gone wrong with the cooling system."

Desmond nodded gravely. That would explain both the glitches he had experienced earlier in the Animus and why Rebecca was so pissed off. Overheating was a problem that plagued the Animus 1.0. Rebecca's Baby was supposed to be far above such maladies. "Is it fixable?"

"Yeah, but it'll take a couple hours!" Rebecca snapped, shooting Desmond a dirty look, as if it were his fault. Desmond quickly looked back to Lucy, and, God bless her, the woman came to his rescue.

"Why don't you go stretch your legs in the mean time? Practice the moves you've picked up from Ezio."

"Uh, yeah, sure," Desmond agreed immediately, eager to get out of the room as quickly as possible. Rebecca was easy enough to get along with when she was in a good mood, which normally was always, but it was best to stay clear out of her way when she got worked up.

There was really no need for Desmond to practice any of the techniques he had garnered from Ezio. They came to him so instantly and effortlessly, they were already second nature to him. Still, with nothing better to do, he entertained himself by launching himself across the warehouse, scrambling up and over boxes, vaulting across rafters. He landed on a platform that was at least thirty feet above the ground with a grunt and he straightened.

Abruptly, his vision went dark.

"Fuck," Desmond hissed, clutching at the side of his head as fear raced through him. "Not now…" Faintly illuminated figures were darting past him, and his surroundings were starting to flicker. No, he had to keep it together, he couldn't pass out now, but there was a sudden rush of light, color, noise–

He flung his weight forward, hand latching onto the platform. He swung himself up, shifting into a crouch as he crawled to the edge of the beam, squinting into the sunlight that momentary blinded him as he cast his gaze around the city. Jerusalem lay sprawled before him, the setting sun reflecting off its buildings, making the entire city glow. The wind was fierce up here, whipping at his clothes and tugging at his hood—

"Miles? Where are you?"

he could hear an eagle cry from high above him, and it swooped down so close to him, he could have reached out and brush it with his fingertips as it passed—

"Miles? What are you doing up there?"

Altair stood slowly, moving forward until his toes were hanging off the end of the beam. He took a deep breath—

"Miles! What are you doing, stop! Miles!"

stretching his arms and bending his knees—

"MILES! Don't!"

and he launched himself in the air.

"DESMOND!"

And Desmond was falling.

His heart lurched in his chest, panicking instantly. It was instinct alone that had him turning his body out of his head-long dive, twisting in midair as the ground came rushing up to meet him, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the cruel, unforgiving embrace of the concrete—

Arms snatched at him, and he was falling into something, no, someone, absorbing his impact, and Desmond drove them both into the ground. He heard a grunt of pain as he knocked the wind out of whoever had caught him, but he had no time to dwell on it. His shoulder and, more importantly, his head, made contact with the ground, making a dull, sickening thud. For a moment, Desmond blacked out, his ears ringing and tears springing to his eyes. He couldn't breathe, and he had to fight the urge to vomit, the pain was so intense, but soon the world came back into focus, and he realized someone was grasping his shoulders, shaking him slightly. He found their face as they hauled him into a sitting position.

"Sh-Shaun?" He groaned, blinking hazily. "Fuck… What—?"

"You – almost – killed – yourself!" Shaun managed to spit out, absolutely livid. His fingers were digging painfully into Desmond's shoulders. "What the bloody fuck was that?!"

"I…" Desmond started, swallowing hard. His head was pounding horribly. "I was… Altair, I… Viewpoint, I did a… A…"

If looks could kill, Desmond would have dropped dead on the spot.

"The bleeding effect?!" Shaun screeched, "You were fucking hallucinating?"

Desmond nodded mutely.

It seemed Shaun was temporarily rendered incapable of speech. He released Desmond, leaning back slightly as he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Fuck," he said again.

Desmond was trying to take slow, deep breaths, but it wasn't working so well. He glanced up at the platform he had jumped from; it was three stories above them. He suddenly felt cold, shaken down to his core. If Shaun hadn't come along, hadn't snapped him out it, hadn't managed to break his fall…

Apparently, Shaun was thinking along the same lines.

There were suddenly arms around him again. Shaun was pulling the assassin to him, arms around his shoulders and back, and Desmond found his face pressed against the older man's neck. Shaun was holding him as tightly as possible, his breathing shaky and slightly panicked in Desmond's ear.

"Fuck," He kept saying, "Fuck, I… You… Christ, Desmond, you nearly gave me a heart attack, I…"

He grabbed Desmond's shoulders again and held him at arm's length, giving him a long, intense glare. "You," He snarled, "are not going anywhere alone. Ever. Again. I swear to God, if that ever happens again…" He let out a rough sigh, and swallowed. "Do you understand me?" Desmond nodded again. "Good."

And Desmond was back in that hug again. He managed to unpin one arm to give Shaun an awkward pat on the back. He realized that he should probably feel embarrassed, being hugged like this by another grown man. They had to look suspicious, after all, sitting on the cold warehouse floor, tangled together so clumsily, but he couldn't bring himself to care. For now, he just let out a long breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, letting his forehead rest on Shaun's shoulder, and taking as much comfort as he could from the long embrace.


Shaun has always struck me as someone who is secretly a worrywart… Someone who jumps to anger so he can hide his worry… Yeah.

Please review, my lovelies. And if you have a request, let me know and I'll see what I can do for you.

Expect to see more coming soon, alright?