-First AC fanfic. I can't believe how Thomas HickeyXConnor is not even, like, a recognized pairing. It's not even a recognized crack pairing. C'mon! He called Connor a sweetheart. How did millions of eccentric HickeyXConnor fanfics not materialize from that?!
This will be short, and, depending on your funny bone, humorous or an entirely awful slap to the face of humanity.-
Connor was sitting in the corner of his jail cell, attempting to think strategically and tactically of his next move when he heard the voice of what he swore to be the worst and most irritating of all the English accents he'd heard during his time in New England.
That got Connor up quite quickly. He turned to see Thomas Hickey grinning that Templar grin of his from the other side of the hole in his cell.
"You," Connor fumed, already imagining Hickey's assassination in his head, with animus specs flickering in the background and a nice tomahawk wedged nicely in the back of Hickey's head.
"Miss me, swee-art?"
Although Connor was much better at grasping English language idioms than initially (we mustn't remind him of his confusion with calling ships "her"), his tendency to take things literally was still hanging on.
"If you are here then Washington is safe." he soundly concluded, "And no, I did not 'miss' you at all; maybe a little when I kill you later for I am still human, but need not worry. I will get over it."
Thomas chuckled. "Indeed, but I'd hold your breath for that last part. You'll miss me alright. I've just been pardoned, and you're stayin' here, chicky."
Connor lashed back. "You will be the one doing the holding of breath. I will be doing the missing. If you are indeed freed, I will find you."
Thomas gave him his. "No no, I'll be long gone. Enjoy prison. Don't drop the soap."
Connor wasn't going to let him win this one. "If I drop it I will just pick it up."
Hickey raised a regretful eyebrow. (Eyebrows regret too.) "You are my enemy and all but I will tell you this-don't EVER do that."
"I am not sacrificing my cleanliness, not even in prison. The soap will be picked up."
Hickey sighed. "Don't say I didn't warn ya." Charles Lee and Haytham appeared in front of Hickey's cell and let him out as Thomas promised.
"Don't worry about the assassin, they'll finish him up here. He says he's going to pick up the soap." teased Hickey.
"To stick in your mouth and choke you with." added Connor from his cell. He gripped the bars. "You are not coming out of this alive."
"I fear you won't be comin' out of the showers alive." responded Hickey, fixing his cuffs.
"I will come out clean with a bar of soap that I picked up and managed to fashion into a tomahawk to peel that saucy grin off your face."
There was some really awkward silence after Connor finished that last disturbing sentence.
"And your accent is the absolute worst. I vomit a little everytime you talk." Connor finished, arms crossed.
"Let's get the bloody hell outta here." stormed out an impatient and honestly slightly offended Thomas. "Is my accent really that bad?"
Descending down the stairs, Haytham gave his ever-wise two cents. "Well, I have an urge to punch you every time you talk. Not sure if that gave you an answer."
"Charlie?" asked Thomas desperately.
"Let's just leave it at you're just a terrible, terrible person."
"I like that answer better!"
[[This was probably a terrible, terrible fanfic but I really wanted to do something that centered around Thomas and Connor. I like Thomas .]]
[[This wasn't exactly ThomasXConnor but I did what I could .]]
[[Nevermind the fact that Hickey's "private and more comfortable cell" looked like the same ole' shitty cell as before, sans the hole o.O]]