Because I adore Assassin's Creed. Finished all three games in a month and now I'm obsessed. Not the 'omg-i-kicked-the-xbox-now-i'm-altair/ezio's-wife' obsessed because:
1) I have a PS3, not an X-Box, & 2) I'm more of a Desmond fangirl than anything else.
Plus, if you haven't noticed I am a yaoi fangirl. Not happy with that, then you can bite me. And click the back button. Cause this is a yaoi story. Yes.
Warning: Fluff, angst, yaoi, smut...probably, yaoi, unrequited love, yaoi. Let me make it clear one more time...YA-OI!
Disclaimer: After extensive searching of each game box, I found no contract declaring I was the owner of Assassin's Creed...yet...
Pairings, both possible and probable: Altair/Malik, Shaun/Desmond, Ezio/Leonardo, Federico/Vieri, Cesare/Leonardo, Desmond/Lucy, Alex/Desmond, Ezio/Christina, Ezio/Caterina, Ezio...is a man-whore...and more.
Anyways, onto the show then!
Chapter 1 - Strawberry Daiquiri
Strawberry: a sweet, fleshy red fruit with seeds on the outside; a well known aphrodisiac.
Daiquiri: an iced cocktail of rum, lime or lemon juice, and sugar.
Strawberry Daiquiri: Leonardo da Vinci's favourite beverage. Never actually buys it, because that's Ezio's job. Never actually drinks it either.
When you've been a bartender for as long as Desmond Miles has been, you do begin to pick up on certain faces. Especially if those faces only turn up from six 'til seven during happy hour.
Not that he can say that out loud, because a) those cheap bastards still pay him, and b) those cheap bastards most probably have the ability to kill him. With their eyes. Nothing else. Just the eyes alone.
Which is rather quite scary considering all the crap Desmond has been through. Not much can scare the guy, but place him in the same room with the same cheap bastards that come every-single-fucking-night, then yeah, it was his god-given right to feel slightly wary of them. Especially with his theory of them being secret mercenaries who were out to kill him with the same corkscrew he uses to create most of their drinks...if he got their order wrong. Which he never did, 'cause he was kick-ass bartender.
Yes. Desmond was that good. So good, he even knew which customers would come in first. Happy hour started at six, and right on the dot would be the Italian Stallion himself. No, not Sylvester Stallone...although, that would be pretty awesome. No this guy was twice as hot, but not as hardcore.
His name was Ezio and Desmond could pretty much write a book about his life. Yeah, Ezio was a talkative drunk, although he never really got drunk anymore. Only on special occasions, like a birthday, or a holiday, or when his heart had been broken in millions of tiny pieces. Ah yes, Ezio Auditore was a womanizer, so it would be hard to imagine him getting his heart broken.
Even more difficult to see it get broken by an unknowing man.
That's right folks, you heard it here first. Ezio lusted for women, but loved one man. A pretty genius with beautiful blue eyes and a head with more clouds in it than a stormy night. They met at an opening of a new art museum where Ezio's mother had dragged him out to see something you could really call beautiful. Fuck, did Ezio see something beautiful that night.
What followed was a long, strenuous journey to realizing what a bi-sexual was, and voilà. What we have before us now is a man who still lusts for women, but only for one man.
"No offense to you, amico mio," is what that jumped up, self-righteous bastard said to Desmond. Yeah, 'cause he was really heartbroken over that fact.
As the clock signaled the time to be six o' clock, Desmond readied himself with a cocktail glass. Just as he found one and placed it on the counter, the door burst open and Desmond's eye twitched. They always fucking slam the door open, like they own the damn place. Fuckers.
I digress, Ezio Auditore da Firenze has just walked into the building. Why Italians felt the need to state where they were from every time they introduced themselves confused Desmond immensely. Seriously, if he were to go around and say: 'hi, I'm Desmond Miles of Nevada', he would gain quite a number of strange looks. Not for Ezio though, 'cause Ezio was Italian and therefore that made it hot and acceptable. Seriously.
"Amico mio, I'll have the usual per favore," Ezio said, all suave-like...the sexy bastard. Anyway, if there was another thing that did Desmond's head in, it was the random spouting of Italian the guy would insert into whatever he was saying at the time. Like he had to remind people that he was Italian and therefore shouldn't be forgotten about. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Desmond began work on making a strawberry daiquiri.
He didn't know why he kept doing this. Every single fucking time Ezio came in, he asked for the same thing. Then, he spent the rest of the hour staring at the stupid glass, whilst glancing up every so often at the fucking door. Like he expected someone to come in. Now, because Desmond is a bartender, everyone expected him to know all the up-to-date gossip.
Well, they were right.
But don't you think that is such a stereotypical view of bartenders, really? There's probably some poor old bartender out there who never gets the gossip, yet everyone assumes as such and so he gets shouted at all the time for not knowing the latest news. Poor thing.
I digress. Desmond was not like the poor old bartender out there, in fact he was the very opposite. The people who came into his bar probably told him a little too much for his liking, but he stood there with his sympathetic ear, offering advice when needed—
"C'mon man, will you just suck it up. Grow a pair and go after him. It'll save time, not to mention money!"
—or unneeded. You never know.
Ezio scoffed and threw a glare at the unnerved bartender. Luckily for said unnerved bartender, he knew where the line was and why not to cross it. He was a centimeter away from crossing it. Desmond liked to cross lines. He slid the finished drink towards Ezio and watched as he refused to touch it. The Italian shook his head and glared down at the daiquiri before him. The little drink genuinely shrank a little under the intensity of the glare. Bastard.
"I have no idea what you are talking about. And I already have a pair, would you like to see them?" Ezio asked, his innocent look spoiled by the dark gleam in his eye.
Of course Desmond had no idea. God, really, he was like, the last man on Earth to understand the pain that Ezio was going through. I mean really, how could he even contemplate the very thought of understanding what Ezio was going through.
Oh yeah! 'Cause that lousy fucker never shuts up about it!
"If you want Leo to turn up, why don't you try...oh, I don't know, inviting him out or something? Might work, you never know," Desmond liked pushing people. He didn't like it when they pushed back, but god, it was so much fun seeing how far he could before the line was crossed, trampled on, spat on and then destroyed.
"I tried. He's too busy with his new stronzo patron," Ezio spat, really, really wanting to murder the poor little drink before him. Desmond nodded knowingly. The Auditore family had many enemies, many dangerous enemies. The Borgia family for example. It really was a shame that a sweet thing like Leonardo was oblivious to Cesare Borgia's seduction. Desmond only met the guy once, but he assumed Leonardo was a sweet thing. At least, that's what he's been told.
"Ah, of course. And you're too scared to even contemplate the fact that maybe Leo might make time for you. I know the guy is a supposed genius, but he ain't psychic. He can't accept your invite out if you're only asking him telepathically," Desmond mused.
Well. You may pronounce that line well and truly crossed.
"You think I don't know that! I have tried, really I have! But when I do, he's too busy with a painting or an invention or trying to discover an answer to one of his unending questions...or he's too busy being seduced by that Borgia cane!" Ezio hissed.
Desmond rolled his eyes. Again. Really, this amount of rolling was not good for his eyesight surely. As he was going to retort to Ezio's poor excuse for an argument, a song broke out between them, destroying the tense atmosphere immediately.
~I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it huuuuuurts~
Desmond's eye twitched. "Nice ring tone." You self-obsessed, cheap bastard.
"Whatever," Ezio muttered, pulling out his flashy Blackberry -like that shit was better than Desmond's ancient Nokia- and his face lit up considerable. "Well amico mio, it looks like I'm needed elsewhere, grazie for the drink!"
"Oh yeah, which one is it this time? Christina? The red-headed chick? Or the other one, you know, the one that threatened to bite off your dick, first chance she got?" Desmond asked, his tone full of mocking interest.
"How about all three," Ezio retorted, pushing the untouched daiquiri towards Desmond.
"Ah, an intervention then. I always thought a little sex therapy is what you needed most."
"Thought that was your job."
Before Ezio could respond -that he in fact did not require fucking himself, he had three beautiful women to do the job for him- the door to the bar slammed open, as if the bastard to walk through owned the place. Fucking bastards! Oh, and what a bastard this guy was. A smooth, sexy fucker who also happened to be Italian. An Italian sexy fucker who also happened to be an Auditore.
Federico Auditore to be pinpoint exact.
Ezio's older brother who also happened to take happy hour very seriously. Cheap bastard. He was the very definition of charismatic, but truth be told, not everyone appreciated it.
"Ah, so this is where baby brother is hiding!" he declared, tilting his head to the side with a grin. Ezio rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue.
"I'm not hiding," Ezio retorted. Of course he wasn't, he was just seeking refuge from the outside world in hopes that it would never find him. Pffft! Kids, the lot of them!
"Well I am, so it would be best if you were to pretend that I was never here," Federico stated, eyes glinting in sexy, naughty way.
"Already have," Ezio stated and Desmond nodded in agreement. What Federico was hiding from didn't really need questioning. As Federico hid behind the bar, Desmond could only resist kicking him out from behind it. Glancing up at the clock, Desmond knew it was only a matter of time. The little brat would probably come storming in soon, as always, kick up a fuss, like always and then be carried off in a police car with the other two.
Like fucking always!
Oh, what a surprise. The door has been slammed open. Again. Oh and look who it is. Vieri de'Pazzi, the youngest Pazzi member and an enemy of Ezio. Not so much Federico. Well, in Federico's opinion anyway.
"Ah Vieri, so good to see you. Funny seeing you here tonight. I thought places like these fell below your radar," Ezio inquired, making Desmond frown. Yeah Vieri was rich and yeah Desmond wasn't, but he wasn't poor either. I mean, the bar didn't look that bad, did it?
Suffice to say, it would look a hell of a lot better if it weren't for those fuckers destroying it all the damn time!
Desmond nodded with his conscience. It was always right after all.
"Where is he? I demand that you tell me, you figlio di puttana!" Vieri hissed, reminding Desmond of a stray cat. Hmmm...Vieri as cat. It's not as far-fetched as it sounds. Meow.
"Where is who?" Ah yes, clever Ezio. Let's play the I-have-no-idea-what-you-are-talking-about-cause-I-am-that-innocent card.
"Your brother, where is he?" Vieri hissed again. Meow, meow.
"Petruccio? He is in bed, like always. He's very ill again you know and—" Ezio started, nodded towards Desmond like he knew what Ezio was talking about. Which he did.
"Not that one! Your merda brother Federico! He has crossed the last line stealing my hat! Where the fuck is he?" Vieri interrupted rudely. As you can tell, he was not happy. Still...meow, meow.
Federico couldn't help the short burst of laughter and gracefully stood up from behind the bar. "I never knew you to be so eager to see me, bello."
Desmond was pretty sure he wasn't the only one to grimace at that word then. Oh yes, Desmond knew Italian now. Very well actually. Well, his Italian vocab stretched to mostly cuss words, but they were still Italian cuss words.
"Give. Me. My. Fucking. Hat. Back. Now!" Vieri stated, his fury dripping from each word. Federico merely laughed and walked around the bar, Vieri's hat being twirled around his fingers expertly.
"Oh, you really do look enticing when angry," Federico responded, his eyes lighting up with mirth. Ezio blanched at the implication and threw a glare at his brother.
"Give him the damn hat back, I can only stand his presence for so long and your flirting isn't helping!" Ah, flirting. Is that what it's called?
Federico shrugged and tossed the hat back. "Baby brother, you really do need to improve your patience. No wonder the women complain of how quick you are in bed!" he said teasingly and was responded back with a middle finger.
Fixing his hat back onto his head, Vieri huffed and brushed himself off. "I would love to stay and chat, stronzo, really I would. However, I have far more important things to do," Vieri sneered, looking down his nose at Ezio with contempt. Oh, and completely ignoring the lecherous gaze from Federico, which was starting to disturb him. You should never pay attention to those that disturb you, if you do...well, then you end up getting stalked.
Obviously Vieri didn't get that last part of the memo.
"Oh, is your sorella in town again?" Ezio asked, mischief sparkling in his eyes. Oh, Vieri will not like that.
No Desmond, Vieri did not like that. Eye twitching twice, Vieri tried hard to rein his anger in. Like, really, really hard.
"You pezzo di merda! I don't have a sister!" he spat, serving only to amuse the younger Auditore brother more.
"Ah, it must have his mother then Ezio," Federico chipped in, causing Ezio to bark out in laughter and causing Desmond to inch that little bit closer to the emergency phone.
This won't be pretty. Ah fuck, and I've just refurbished and all!
Vieri's eye twitched three times at the insult before he stiffly marched over to the elder Auditore sibling and promptly punched the smirk straight off that smooth bastard's handsome face. Obviously Ezio wasn't going to stand for such treatment of his darling fratello, and practically flew across the room to tackle the seemingly victorious de'Pazzi. Federico gasped, looking quite shocked at the fact that Vieri had actually punched him, before shrugging it off and joining the fray.
Chairs, tables, cushions, everything went flying into the air accompanied by the occasional 'stronzo', 'cazzo' and the classic, 'figlio di puttana'. Really, this wasn't necessary. Desmond sighed and rubbed his temples wearily. Every single fucking time. Desmond considered telling them to get out, although from past experience, that tactic never really worked out for him well.
As he watched his beloved bar being destroyed by the supposed grown and mature men before him -snort, whatever- Desmond casually pressed 911 and patiently waited for the operator. And then ducked as an oncoming chair came flying at his head.
"Mi scusi Desmond!" Ezio. Fucking bastards. Why the hell weren't they barred? Desmond glanced around the empty bar. Ah, you can't bar the only few customers you have. Idiot.
Oh, and there goes the fucking pool table. Again. Jesus Christ, you really can't take these guys anywhere! Not that Desmond actually went out with these guys...not that he would want to anyway. Fucking hell.
"9-1-1, do you have an emergency?"
Desmond grimaced. "Hey Meggie, it's me. Again."
"Hello Desmond. The police force are on their way. Ambulance too."
"You really ought to bar them."
Desmond's eye twitched as another chair came flying towards his head again. He sighed as another Italian apology was thrown out to him.
Meh. Like operators actually talk like that on the phone. Let's just assume so, yeah?
Okay so this is a little bit of crack, little bit of angst, little bit of everything. Minus humour...well, maybe a bit of humour.
Anyways, perty please review if you so wish it!
Love City Girl