Fanfiction: Like Honey in Water (Assassin's Creed)
Title: "Like Honey in Water"
Status: Complete
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Malik Al-Sayf/Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad
Disclaimer: Copyright @ Ubisoft. No infringement intended.
Rating: T
Genre: AU, slash, romance, friendship, past relationship
Warning: none
Summary: What once was will be again. A relationship is rekindled...
Prequel: The Pain of Missing Limbs
Like Honey in Water
"Up here."
Altaïr took another sip of cool water from the fountain, eyes drawn by the cascade of sparkling droplets, so different from blood spilled, before following the familiar voice to its origin, the bureau's rooftop.
The stone was warm underneath his palms, the climb too short to be called such, just a quick straining of muscles as Altaïr pulled himself up and over the edge, past the trellis. His bruises and scrapes burned, but the mission had gone well; he carried a feather in his pouch, stained rust-red.
The sight of cushions greeted him. They had been brought from Malik's private room and arranged around a richly colored carpet, laid with plates, bowls and steaming cups of mint tea. Flies buzzed through the jasmine-scented air, drawn by the fragrance.
"Safety and peace, brother."
"And upon you," Malik replied, his manner relaxed and welcoming. His djellba lay neatly folded at his side, leaving him clad in the simple white robe of a rafiq. "Sit, and eat with me."
Altaïr, pulling back his hood, took in the fine selection: tamr stuffed with goat cheese, halva thickly spread on slices of bread, baklava and qatayef, drizzled with honey.
Settling down cross-legged he didn't comment, but it hadn't escaped his notice that some of the dishes lacked their traditional topping, made of crushed pistachios. Kadar had loved it, been known to lick it off first of all with a child's delight. Unlike him, Altaïr had always abhorred the taste of the roasted seeds.
"A special occasion?"
He chose a dumpling filled with Akkawi cheese and picked it up gingerly. The dough all but dissolved on his tongue, leaving behind a sweet melange that he savored before swallowing. Altaïr proceeded to lick the sticky residue from his fingertips, holding Malik's gaze before it was dragged away from following the movement.
"Are we in need of one to share a meal?"
"No."
"Then do not question what you could just as well enjoy," Malik chided mildly.
They ate for a few minutes in silence. Altaïr felt a pleasant kind of heaviness settle into his bones, that loosened sore muscles, but did nothing to fog the mind. Thus, and with the benefit of having known him for years, he could tell that Malik was... not nervous or uncertain. Rather, it seemed to him that his brother was preparing himself for a leap of faith.
"Will you stay?"
Hope spread its wings, ready to soar like the great eagle, but Altaïr guarded the emotion. Whatever change had come over them both, whatever wisdom they had gained, its price had been pain, and the fault his.
"Do you want me to?"
A pale shadow of Malik's biting exasperation, ever present when having to deal with 'the novice,' flashed over his face. He gestured to include the whole roof: "All this and still you need ask?"
Altaïr shrugged, smiling now. "You are the one who taught me that I cannot know anything."
"So I did," Malik allowed. He leaned closer, disregarding the distance at which they had kept each other ever since Kadar's passing. "Then allow me to be clear: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, stay with me tonight. What we once shared, I would have us do so again."
Altaïr's answer was a kiss, as gentle as his hold on Malik, as different as the man.
What first they shared were words, stories and thoughts and memories. Then smiles and laughter, most fond and full of joy, few edged with sadness. And when the moon rose, round and alabaster, they went inside.
The End
Status: Complete
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Malik Al-Sayf/Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad
Disclaimer: Copyright @ Ubisoft. No infringement intended.
Rating: T
Genre: AU, slash, romance, friendship, past relationship
Warning: none
Summary: What once was will be again. A relationship is rekindled...
Prequel: The Pain of Missing Limbs
Like Honey in Water
"Up here."
Altaïr took another sip of cool water from the fountain, eyes drawn by the cascade of sparkling droplets, so different from blood spilled, before following the familiar voice to its origin, the bureau's rooftop.
The stone was warm underneath his palms, the climb too short to be called such, just a quick straining of muscles as Altaïr pulled himself up and over the edge, past the trellis. His bruises and scrapes burned, but the mission had gone well; he carried a feather in his pouch, stained rust-red.
The sight of cushions greeted him. They had been brought from Malik's private room and arranged around a richly colored carpet, laid with plates, bowls and steaming cups of mint tea. Flies buzzed through the jasmine-scented air, drawn by the fragrance.
"Safety and peace, brother."
"And upon you," Malik replied, his manner relaxed and welcoming. His djellba lay neatly folded at his side, leaving him clad in the simple white robe of a rafiq. "Sit, and eat with me."
Altaïr, pulling back his hood, took in the fine selection: tamr stuffed with goat cheese, halva thickly spread on slices of bread, baklava and qatayef, drizzled with honey.
Settling down cross-legged he didn't comment, but it hadn't escaped his notice that some of the dishes lacked their traditional topping, made of crushed pistachios. Kadar had loved it, been known to lick it off first of all with a child's delight. Unlike him, Altaïr had always abhorred the taste of the roasted seeds.
"A special occasion?"
He chose a dumpling filled with Akkawi cheese and picked it up gingerly. The dough all but dissolved on his tongue, leaving behind a sweet melange that he savored before swallowing. Altaïr proceeded to lick the sticky residue from his fingertips, holding Malik's gaze before it was dragged away from following the movement.
"Are we in need of one to share a meal?"
"No."
"Then do not question what you could just as well enjoy," Malik chided mildly.
They ate for a few minutes in silence. Altaïr felt a pleasant kind of heaviness settle into his bones, that loosened sore muscles, but did nothing to fog the mind. Thus, and with the benefit of having known him for years, he could tell that Malik was... not nervous or uncertain. Rather, it seemed to him that his brother was preparing himself for a leap of faith.
"Will you stay?"
Hope spread its wings, ready to soar like the great eagle, but Altaïr guarded the emotion. Whatever change had come over them both, whatever wisdom they had gained, its price had been pain, and the fault his.
"Do you want me to?"
A pale shadow of Malik's biting exasperation, ever present when having to deal with 'the novice,' flashed over his face. He gestured to include the whole roof: "All this and still you need ask?"
Altaïr shrugged, smiling now. "You are the one who taught me that I cannot know anything."
"So I did," Malik allowed. He leaned closer, disregarding the distance at which they had kept each other ever since Kadar's passing. "Then allow me to be clear: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, stay with me tonight. What we once shared, I would have us do so again."
Altaïr's answer was a kiss, as gentle as his hold on Malik, as different as the man.
What first they shared were words, stories and thoughts and memories. Then smiles and laughter, most fond and full of joy, few edged with sadness. And when the moon rose, round and alabaster, they went inside.
The End