So I'm not even ganna front, this happened when I was writing the 'reunion scene' Flocking Movement (some of you will know what that means and I'm just ganna tell you you got a wait so calm yo tits) and I had a lot of really chest stabby Altair and Desmond feels and was like "I wanna write some Altair/Desmond". My hands did this.
I'd be awesome if you all checked out this link http:/ /brokenballoons. tumblr. com/post/ 18043345545 (just remove the spaces)
Staring up at the ceiling he thought hard about why and how this had happened. Really there was no reason for it, totally none. Yet here he was. Desmond blinked at the ceiling in a sort of half daze half stupor that was really the same thing trying to figure it all out. It was really unfair to wake up in a bed that wasn't yours, especially when you hadn't expected to wake up here in the first place. He squeezed his eyes closed and pinched himself. His eyes shuttered open a moment later, hoping. Same yellow ceiling. Not his.
Slowly he reached up and rubbed his face. Or he tried to. His arm was currently under arrest by… fuck he did not want to think about that. Not really. He simply used his other hand to do so instead with a sigh. He started whee the alarm clock started going off and quickly looked over at it. The clock read nine thirty. Next to him the body moved and he stiffened a little as they roused themselves and, leaning over him, slapped the alarm silent. Desmond just stared at them, wide eyed. Up close they smelled like sex, expensive cologne, sweat and a night of drinking and Desmond could see the way their muscles rippled under their skin.
Only once the clock was off did they seem to realize that there was someone else there and after a moment turned lamp-like, amber, eyes on him. They blinked at him tiredly and Desmond pressed back into the pillow. "Well, this is different," they said and blinked at him, licking their lips. Then they closed their eyes for a few seconds, as though it was too much of an effort to keep them open before they fluttered open and they pushed off of him and rolled out of bed. Desmond's eyes were glued to them as they stood up and stretched facing away from them. "I've got work, so just see yourself out," they said and that was rather startling, though really Desmond didn't know why he was surprised. They weren't exactly nice during the rest of the day, he doubted they would be to some random one-night stand.
Desmond forced himself to say something when they turned back to look at him with a slightly questioning eye, as if they thought he was stupid. "Right," he said, his voice maybe was a bit too high. They just looked away and walked towards another room, which Desmond realized was the bathroom, Desmond watched them, it was kind of hard not to, they had a really amazing ass and oh my god Desmond should not be thinking about their ass this was a bad idea all over!
Once the door closed Desmond leapt out of the bed and stood naked in the middle of the room, nothing was familiar but he quickly found pieces of his clothes, which were scattered around the room with some others in the semblance of a trail from the door to the bed. He dressed quickly and located his wallet, phone and keys still in the pockets of his jeans and jacket before he left quickly. He didn't know where he was, or where the fuck his motorcycle was.
When he left the bedroom he was more than a little bewildered to see where he was. He was in a fucking mansion… A MANSION. Who the fuck actually lived in a mansion‽ Apparently they did. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck! He scuttled down the hall and pulled out his cellphone, thank god it still had some juice left. First he had to get out of here and then he had to make a call.
It seemed to take him forever to find the exit and he darted right out the door with hopefully none the wiser and walked quickly down the long driveway. He pressed number three on his speed dial as he walked.
"It's too early for this man," Clay whined through the receiver.
"Thank god you're awake! I only called-
"Four times, I know," he groaned. "I'm a step away from hung over, what do you want?" and Desmond heard the blankets on his friend's bed rustling as a near silent protest about Desmond calling him.
"Can you come pick me up?"
"Pick you up? What the fuck? Where are you?"
Desmond looked around for a street sign, by now he'd left the driveway and was walking along a street. "I have no fucking idea."
"Well, that's nice," Clay sighed. Desmond found a street sign quickly after that though and told Clay where he was. "What the fuck are you doing there? That's like on the other side of town," he groaned. "Do I have to come pick you up man, can't you like… catch a cab?"
"Yeah, I can totally catch a cab in the middle of fucking rich old white people central," Desmond bitched right back.
Clay gave a great huffing sigh of someone who was long tormented. "Fine. But tell me what you were even doing there."
"Well, at this particular moment? Performing a surreal walk of shame."
There was silence or a moment on the other end, "Did you go home with some creepy old man Desmond? I thought we talked about this."
"Fuck you. No, I didn't. I… well you'll never believe me."
"Try me," Clay droned.
"Okay," Desmond said slowly. "Who's the hottest guy you know?"
Desmond rolled his eyes so hard they almost fell out of his skull. "I'm being serious," Desmond said as he heard Clay stumble around his room.
"Fine," Clay chuckled. "We'll go with with play boy number one; Ezio."
"No. Think sportsman and actually gay."
"He's so gay man, and still Ezio, he does that baseball thing."
"He so isn't and think less… promiscuous."
Clay was silent for a moment except for some mic noise. Then the silence grew pregnant. "Holy shit you're joking!" he suddenly exclaimed.
"I thought he was strait!"
"Not if my memory of last night holds any water he isn't."
"Daaaaaaamn. You just got the ass that half the fucking school lusts after, you realize this right? Well, at least the half that isn't into that pancake-face Ezio," Clay said excitedly.
"Yeah. I know," Desmond said awkwardly. "So you coming to get me or what?"
"Yeah yeah, I'm coming," Clay said as Desmond heard him stumble out of his house and curse from the sun. "But, just so we're on the same page and I'm not totally off base here. Who's bed did you wake up in this morning?" he could hear the smirk in Clay's voice and a car door slam shut over the mic.
Desmond felt his face grow a bit warm just even thinking about it. "Altair," he said, barely loud enough to be heard, as if someone was going to pop out of the bushes and attack him. Like maybe one of the girls who liked to flirt with him near every damn day.
"Okay last question before I actually have to pay attention to the road so you don't bitch at me for driving and talking at the same time."
"I have such a bad feeling about this…"
Desmond was silent for a few seconds, his mouth working mutely, like a keyboard smash on mute. "Amazing," he finally said. He heard Clay snort. "Just get over here," he whined. Clay said he'd be there as quick as he could and then hung up. Sheepishly Desmond looked behind him, back the way he'd come, and could see Altair's… fucking mansion (still who lived in a fucking mansion it was ridiculous!) through the trees. He pressed a hand to his face and looked away before walking in a random direction, hopefully towards the direction Clay was coming from.
This was his life. Of course this was his life. Only shit like this happened to Desmond Miles.