Sorry for the delayed update. I've just been so busy these past few weeks!
Ah, yes. So, some of you thought it was Desmond's ex making his entrance...but to be honest, I believe his entrance would be much more than a big bang. A nuclear boom would describe his entrance into this story better...
So yeah. Keep reading and you'll see why later! ^_^
Chapter 6 - Moonshine
Moonshine: Illegally distilled whiskey.
Moonshine: Pffft! As if Altair cares whether or not it's illegal. Just don't tell Malik.
Desmond's eye twitched as the guy sat on the stool snapped his fingers. Obviously he wanted his drink.
Desmond's eye twitched once more as a loud thud sounded behind him. Obviously Rebecca has just fallen unconscious.
"You going to fix the roof this time?" he asked lightly. Altair just glared. I'll take that as a 'no' then.
"Will you help me lift Becca onto the table then," he asked, again very lightly. Altair was a ticking bomb of destruction, as proven by the gaping hole in his roof. Reminds me of my ex...
In response to the question, Altair lifted Rebecca up, fireman-style, and threw her onto the pool-table. Desmond flinched at the sound, but Rebecca merely yawned and shifted slightly, squeezing Paddy close to her chest.
Hmmmm...lucky bastard. Feeling ever-so-slightly silly for feeling ever-so-slightly jealous of a teddy-bear, Desmond returned to his place at the bar and beamed at Altair.
"Had a good day?" he asked cheerily.
Altair growled. I'll take that as a 'no'...again.
"Anything interesting happen?"
Again, he growled.
Desmond felt like he was wilting flower under the glare that Altair was giving him.
"You just want your fucking drink, don't you?" he asked, monotonously. Altair smirked and cracked his knuckles.
Altair Ibn-La'Ahad was a pretty scary mother-fucker. With gold eyes. Desmond had a theory that he was like, God of the underworld crime-ring or something. Desmond never actually found out what the fuck Altair actually did, but he suspected that it was illegal and had something to do with the mafia. If you've ever met Altair, then you'll know that it isn't as far-fetched as it sounds. The drink he gets sorta proves it. Despite it being illegal, Altair always ordered moonshine and god-help Desmond if he ever ran out of it.
Desmond just waits for the day when the police turn up looking for someone who wasn't Italian, Arab or English. Then Desmond will know that he's going down for being a fucking bootlegger.
"One illegal drink, coming right up," he sighed and ducked down to open up the cellar door, leading to his most prized and secret liquors. Right in the front of his collection sat five whole barrels of Altair's moonshine. Desmond bet that at least four and half barrels would disappear by the end of the night.
And then some...stupid, egoistic alcoholics.
Lifting up a couple of barrels, Desmond heaved them up to the bar. Altair's eyes grew wide and shining as he spied the beautiful liquor that will get him beautifully drunk. Desmond set the barrels down and set to work at opening them. He began struggling to open the lid of one and, naturally, Altair grew impatient. A flick-knife appeared out of fucking nowhere from Altair's hand and smoothly slid open the lid. Desmond froze as the blade came this fucking close to his fingers and inched away from the barrel.
Altair hummed in appreciation and leaned over the bar further to lift up the barrel. He then retracted the flick-knife and pulled out a straw instead. Desmond just watched with horrified, wide eyes as the Arab drank the entire barrel using nothing more than a straw and his amazing, awesome, mother-fuckerness.
"Ummm...bad day, I take it?" Desmond asked, eye twitching as Altair motioned for his second barrel.
Pausing before he downed his second barrel, Altair glanced up for a moment. "Malik."
That one name granted Desmond to the lovely land of clarity, where all things were clear and easy to understand. "Ah."
Malik A-Sayf was Altair's ex-boyfriend (though Altair would vehemently deny that they were exes, yet) and he was a walking ticking cherry-bomb. Although, to be honest, the guy does have a logical reason as to why he was pissed off all the time. Probably has something to do with the dickhead boyfriend who drunk-drove his brother and he home, then crashing the car. Now look at Malik, no left arm, no brother and no car either. Jesus, I would have shot that fucker dead if he had done it to me.
Glancing up at Altair's angry glare, Desmond mentally back-tracked. Ahaha...unless that fucker had the ability to kill me with a single glare, that is.
"So, how'd you fuck it up with Malik this time?" Let it be known that Desmond was gifted in tact and subtlety.
"I didn't," Altair growled, his golden eyes flashing.
Desmond nodded quickly. Flashy gold eyes meant that someone was very close to dying soon. Desmond appreciated the fact that he had life and would rather it not end so soon.
"So...ummm. What did happen with Malik then?"
Altair didn't say anything. He just held up his phone and sighed. As if Desmond was being a difficult child and wasn't worthy of Altair's time. I'm probably not. Asshole. Squinting a little, Desmond peered into the screen and saw a video playing. It showed the interior of an office, with a old-like-practically-ancient-old man at his desk and old-but-not-as-old-as-the-antique-sitting-at-his-desk-old guy lying on a sofa bed. Funny, this looks like a therapist's office...oh. Oh fuck no. He didn't.
Desmond glanced up. Altair smirked.
Fuck. He did.
It was a therapist session, and the guy lying on the sofa was none other than Altair's ex-but-not-really boyfriend. Fucking hell. If Malik ever caught wind of what Altair has done, he would actually rip his dick off and shove it so far up his ass, he'd be chewing on his spunk for the rest of his life.
Beautiful image, I know. It's also scarily accurate as to what Malik would most likely do. He's done it before.
I digress, Desmond shook off the disturbing feeling he was getting and returned to watch the screen. Altair held the volume button and sound crackled out of the tiny speakers.
'So Malik, today we are going to try something different. This is part of a technique called 'free-association', would you like to try it out?'
'I am not a small child to be talked down to! If you believe this will help me -and I highly doubt it will- then by all means, begin.'
'Ah. Ah...well, this activity is rather basic. I will say a word, any word, and I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind.'
'Because there are some things that your subconscious will reveal through this task and maybe this will aide you in recovering from whatever it is that is preventing you from functioning normally.'
'Ah...good. So, the first word is: book.'
'N-nothing, nothing at all. Next word: charm.'
Altair flinched. Desmond didn't ask.
There was a pause, and Desmond could distinctly hear the scratching of pen as the therapist wrote a few words down.
There was a sound of something breaking and smashing against a wall. Altair's hand was frighteningly still as the sounds of someone storming out of the room and the slamming of a door indicated the end of the recording.
Now Desmond wasn't stupid, contrary to popular belief, but even he knew that Malik's last words weren't directed at the therapist, but rather someone else.
"Holy...um, fuck. Well, that was...errm. Fuck. I have no idea what to say." That's some messed up shit, and I seriously believe that you need to leave this bar immediately, you fucking creepy pervert. Desmond felt the heat of Altair's glare on him and ceased his train of thinking straight away. Fucking pervert probably reads minds...shit! Ah, not that you're a pervert, of course, if you are reading my mind, and if you're not then I'm talking to myself and should probably go join Rebecca in the lunatic's circle.
Altair just grimaced at the creepy grin on Desmond's face and sighed as he tucked away the phone. Desmond swallowed hard and shuffled his feet.
"So...another drink then?" he asked, cheerily. Altair just nodded, glaring at the barrel in front of him. Jesus, he was almost as fucking bad as Ezio when it came to scaring drinks.
"How did you record the session anyway? I mean, don't therapists check their rooms for bugs and shit?" Desmond asked as he pushed another barrel towards Altair.
"Obviously my therapist is a novice and doesn't know what his job entails. Just like another bastard I know!" a voice spat, making both Altair and Desmond wince from the malice that practically dripped from the words. Okay, now I'm going to slowly edge my way over to the circle of lunatics, before Malik eats me...
Altair quickly chucked the three barrels of moonshine behind the bar, hiding them from Malik. Desmond was torn between inching his way towards Rebecca and inching towards his many bottles of headache tablets. I feel like a teenage junkie who just sits around saying 'fuck my life'. Wait...
"So, you feel like privacy is beneath you as well then? I should be surprised, yet, surprisingly, I'm not."
"That isn't surprising. I always invade your privacy. Just last week I injected a micro-chip into your dic—" Altair began with raised eyebrows. Naturally, Malik didn't let him finish because a) Malik is a prude and b) Altair is just being an irritating little twat-head who needs to deflate his head a little, otherwise he'll never be able to leave via the front door. And that is not a good scenario to contemplate.
I digress. Malik threw a coaster at Altair's head, sharply cutting off whatever it was the Altair was going to say. "Your arrogance astounds me, how you continue to humiliate me further when you know what I've already been through, is astonishing. You're nothing, but a cruel, cold-hearted..no. You don't have a heart, you're just a pathetic, empty shell who—"
"Dictionary! I was going to say dictionary!" Altair cried out. Let it be known that Altair never reacts well when it comes to being guilt-tripped. Malik smirked.
"Naturally," he said smiling. He then threw another coaster at Altair's head. "How stupid do you think I am? You irritable, nasty little leech!"
Desmond felt a headache come on and tried to feel for his bottles of headache pills under the counter. Then he remembered that he had run out.
Life was a bitch. It really was.
"Hey, that's uncalled for! And I need to spy on you, you never let me know how you are otherwise!" Altair snapped back, trying to get the message across, the message being that he does care. In his own little, fucked up way, he cares.
"Do you seriously wonder why? Idiot, there's a reason why I don't tell you anything about my life and I!" Malik hissed back. Obviously he's been taking the same kitty-cat lessons that Vieri has been taking. Meow.
"Tell me! Tell me the reason!" Altair spat.
"Oh, you don't know? Why don't you ask my arm...oh wait. You can't! It's not there!" Malik mocked him, his eyes blazing with fury. Desmond inched that little bit more away from the bar and the two feisty Arabs. Someone was going to get hurt and will end up in tears, and that person was not going to be Desmond. Again.
"That's low Malik, even for you," Altair growled, getting more riled up with each word that Malik hissed at him. Meow.
"Oh trust me, I have a long way to go before I ever reach your level of 'low' Altair!"
Altair paused momentarily. In these types of situations, this argument can go in two different directions. The long, hurtful route that will end with Malik in almost-tears, Altair in angry-tears and Desmond in oh-my-god-the-pain-it-hurts-tears. Or it could go the childish route, with Malik pissed off, Altair pissed off and Desmond...well, he can't really get pissed off with them. They'll probably try to kill him. With their eyes or what-the-fuck-else they have on them.
"My level of 'low' died alongside your brother!" Altair said in a deep, sexy voice that would have anyone swooning. Malik is not the swoony-type.
"Don't you dare speak of my brother like that! You have no fucking right to even think his name!" Malik hissed.
Altair narrowed his eyes. "Funny, you sang a different tune when it was my girlfriend you murdered."
Malik sputtered and his face grew hot and red. "First off, she is not dead. She's moved back to her home country to live with her parents. She sends a fucking postcard every fucking week. Second off, I was drunk, she was drunk. We were both upset due to how cold and cruel you were with our feelings. By the way, thanks for cheating on me. I feel pretty fucking special. Third off, I suggested that she move back to her parents because she was a hell of a lot happier with them than she was with you! I did not kill her! I'm not you!"
Altair blinked. Well. That was a fucking surprise. Who knew that Adha was still alive. "Well...I was drunk too!"
Malik exploded. To be fair, it was rather understandable. "You also drove the car that killed my brother and cost me an arm! You're the murderer!"
"That's a bit harsh...it was an accident."
"An accident you can't take back, you idiot!"
Obviously, this was going to go down the hurtful route that left everyone in tears. Desmond began to reach for the tissue box. Fucking bastards. Manly men don't fucking cry!
"You're a dick!"
"At least I have a dick!"
"Yeah, on your head!"
Then again, it could do a 180 turn into the opposite direction where everyone turns into little children.
"That's uncalled for!"
"Your face is uncalled for!"
Altair, clearly very miffed that his not-exactly-ex-boyfriend implied that he was ugly, then leaped from his seat and tackled Malik to the ground. Malik, despite lacking a limb, fought back with impressive fervor.
"I hate you!"
"Yeah, well I hated you first!"
"You weren't saying that last night!"
"I wasn't with you last night!"
"I was in your dreams though. 'Oh Altair...fuck...Altair, please. I love you Altair, don't leave me, I—'"
"SHUT UP! Stop spying on me sleeping you perverted freak!"
"Oh, not denying then? How sweet, I was only bluffing."
Malik then proceeded to murder Altair using the leg from a stool. How fucking dare he rip apart my fucking bar! As if that douche-bag Italian wasn't bad enough. Jesus-fucking-Christ. I give up. I am surrounded by idiots, and thus I give up. Malik and Altair then threw twin glares at him. Desmond wilted a little and gave them both nervous grins.
Unless they're mind-reading idiots. In which case they aren't idiots. Like, at all. They're super awesome and therefore should be treated with the utmost respect, lest they stab someone with a cork-screw. They nodded at him and returned to killing each other.
Desmond wilted a little bit more. They were going to kill each other and his bar was going to be a crime scene. Again.
Feeling his eyes sting a little -men don't fucking cry- Desmond swallowed hard and desperately eyed his teddy, wrapped up in Rebecca's arms.
Paddy. Please help me.
Manly men don't cry. They just get their teddy-bears to fend off the evil men who make them cry.
ANYWAY! Thank you very muchly for the reviews. They make me smile! ^_^
Thank you to: TheParanoidNerd, grawrgrawrninja, Peace of pie, Kudomeya, Valitiel, Masked Hatter, LittleLamperouge, Xazz, loki-chan, LunarIsOfficallyInsane, KaiiDee23, Evilness, La Belle Demoiselle, ardx, Rio Voltaire, RolfeDOL, -Sapphire00Moonlight-, Heartstones, Koulinand Anon!
Much love for you all!
Love City Girl