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Shaun was only able to shake his head in unbelieving shock as he entered the room which he shared with Desmond.

The novice still sat on the bed, handheld on his propped up knees, eyes fixed to the two screens and whatever was going on there. He didn't even as much as flinch when the door slammed shut behind Shaun. His eyes flickered up at the historian for a second before returning to the screen.

"What?" he asked coldly and Shaun was able to hear how annoyed and frustrated he was – and disappointed.

Shaun sighed, walking up to him, sitting on the edge of his bed. Desmond was leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the bed, so there still was plenty of space between them – no, too much space.

"The girls were worried because you didn't come back with me before…"

"So… only them?" the novice whispered, the clicking of the buttons subsiding for a moment before returning apparently twice as loud, frustration being let out on them, "Guessed so…"

Shaun groaned, for once really at a lack of words – he knew that everything that he'd say wouldn't come out as wanted. So he simply kept silent, lying down on the bed, facing Desmond. The novice went on ignoring him, trying to keep playing – the historian was sure though, that he didn't even see the damn thing.

"You've been playing with that damn thing for… what? Six hours straight now?" – unless he had only acted as if he played whenever Shaun was close by; which he didn't, because the historian had heard the annoying peeping sounds all the time, even in the main room – "How come the batteries haven't given up yet? That thing must be pretty old already…" Shaun was only musing, trying to find out if Desmond even listened to him.

Which he clearly did, because he held up a power cable that lay next to him on the sheets. Next thing he did was snort an curse at the DSi, grimacing. "Fuck…" he murmured and closed his eyes, "Game over again…"

Shaun had to bite back a small smile, crawling closer, hands stroking over the assassin's legs. He'd only have to try and talk to him. Now was his chance.

"Come on now, Des…" he started, voice soothing, "You know that Lucy is right… We can't put you inside all the time… especially not if your body is already strained as it is…"

"You could! You just don't…" Desmond snapped. If the historian hadn't known better, he'd think that he was dealing with a cat that would scratch him very soon…

"We know, Des… Abstergo did – but we really aren't those Templar bastards, as you should already know…"

Golden eyes met Shaun's coppery ones for a moment and the historian was sure that he'd never seen eyes of that color that felt so predatory and cold… Then the color changed back to the natural brown and the novice's face relaxed a little. Blue, something in his mind whispered, the same hue as Leonardo and Malik had.

"I know – otherwise you'd already have your throat slit."

Silence settled over them, the handheld still being the only thing making sounds. There was still the weak clattering of keyboards from the room next to them floating in through the half-closed door, but nothing else. Not a word being said.

Shaun calmly massaged the novice's thighs and calves, feeling the tense muscle underneath his jeans. Even through the fabric he could feel the scar tissue, the cuts covering the skin. They had only sent him on one mission, a normally simple one even – and he had already come back tattered and torn because of those bastards.

Which also was the reason to keep him away from the Animus – Desmond was pretty much a wreck, even though he didn't look like it, wearing his new pants and hoodie which were covering all the wounds and bandages.

"Lift your legs."

"W-what?"

Desmond stared at Shaun in shock, handheld almost slipping from his hands. He shook his head, trying to calm down. His heart was pounding. Embarrassingly in anticipation. That had certainly sounded…

The historian snorted, amused. Instead of explaining himself though, he just gripped the other's ankles, lifting them up and only let them drop to be draped over his hip and thighs. He was facing the other assassin, grinning at him, pleased when the younger one relaxed against him at once.

"Feeling more comfy now?" he teased. He just chuckled when Desmond tensed up immediately – just for show of course – and shot him a stern look. "No use to lie now…"

"J-just fuck off, Hastings…" he hissed, making Shaun's grin widen visibly. Well, it really was more comfortable now, especially with his feet dangling in the air now, not having to support any weight. And even though he'd never admit it… he felt better now with someone near him. Even if it was the annoying historian that he was draped over.

But no, never was he going to speak those thoughts out aloud.

He could feel the Brit looking at him, his gentle touches, fingers gracing his legs, his side, his elbow, arm and wrist… It felt good… and it was harder to concentrate on the screen. Desmond had to clench his teeth to not sigh or whimper, his nerves too sensitive because he started to feel tired and sore – and it had been just too long since he had been touched like this the last time. They hadn't had any time since they had fled from the warehouse…

He squirmed, the hand slipping underneath his hoodie, stroking the bandaged skin.

"S-stop it, Hastings!"

He really tried to shoot him a stern look… But he couldn't. It simply felt too good, he wanted Shaun… But he wouldn't beg, never.

And apparently, there was no need to – because if he read the other's look right, Shaun was pretty aware of his thoughts. At least that was, what his grin said.

The historian propped himself up on his elbow, the other hand reaching forward to snap the handheld shut and throw it onto the mattress next to them unceremoniously. Next thing Desmond knew, he was grabbed by the collar and pulled down, lying next to Shaun now, their legs somewhat entangled. Fingers combed through his chopped hair and a soft sigh escaped his lips.

"Hm…" Shaun mused, his breath washing over the younger one's face, "Kinda looks as if you are enjoying it…"

"Just shut up now, Shaun…" Desmond growled, amusement lacing his voice, eyes glowing now, "I guess you can put your mouth to better use?" Lips pulled into a smile were soon covered by the Brit's. For a moment, the Animus was forgotten, the Apple was and the Templars too.

"Love ya…" Desmond whispered in between two kisses, rolling both of them over so he kneeled on top of Shaun, grinning down at him, "But don't you dare thinking that you'd get to be on top just cuz I'm a lil' tired…"

"Guys?" Rebecca shouted, knocking at the door of Shaun's and Desmond's shared room, waiting for a reply that wasn't coming, "Desmond? Don't tell me you killed our favorite history geek while no one was there to film it!" The sound of rustling clothes was heard, making it apparent that at least one of them was still alive. Rebecca waited a few moments longer before entering, just to be safe. She had had already walked into them a few times.

She had to admit that it was fun, seeing how Shaun blushed and all… but considering the fact that all of them were full-fletched assassins, you shouldn't really make anyone of them your foe.

"Comin' in!" she gave a warning, giving them the time to at least pull a blanket over them, just in case, only walking in afterwards.

A fit of giggles escaped her as she watched the two of them, sitting on the bed like before, with Desmond's legs draped over Shaun's thighs, the historian facing the wall.

"You feel better now, Des?" she asked. Des nodded after a few moments – and a look at Shaun – and Rebecca couldn't help but notice the shine in the novice's eyes as well as his still flushed cheeks. His hair was a little ruffled, his cloths a bit wrinkled up. She acted like she hadn't seen it, instead pointing at the handheld. "Well, happy to see your moods become better. You can still keep that thing if ya want to – I don't really need it…"

"Thanks, Bec…" Des murmured, looking down at the handheld again. His fingers pushed a few of the buttons again. The blush kept darkening more and more as time passed and he could still feel the techie's looks on him. Rebecca knew exactly, why that was.

She turned around, hand extending towards the door, then looked over her shoulder.

"Come on, Des… You really think I wouldn't notice that the DSi isn't even turned on?" she mocked him straight out, listening to the curses being passed between the two behind her. Especially Desmond's hissed "When did you fucking asshole shut it off?!" that was promptly answered by a most likely truthfull "Just when hearing her approach, you prat."

Outside on the hallway she stopped for a moment to just listen, hearing a low gasp, making her laugh even more.

"And Shaun… Don't think I haven't seen where your hand was!" she chimed, almost floating towards the Animus room, ignoring Shaun's yell to "Shut yer mouth!"

Description
Shaun was only able to shake his head in unbelieving shock as he entered the room which he shared with Desmond.

The novice still sat on the bed, handheld on his propped up knees, eyes fixed to the two screens and whatever was going on there. He didn't even as much as flinch when the door slammed shut behind Shaun. His eyes flickered up at the historian for a second before returning to the screen.

"What?" he asked coldly and Shaun was able to hear how annoyed and frustrated he was – and disappointed.

Shaun sighed, walking up to him, sitting on the edge of his bed. Desmond was leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the bed, so there still was plenty of space between them – no, too much space.

"The girls were worried because you didn't come back with me before…"

"So… only them?" the novice whispered, the clicking of the buttons subsiding for a moment before returning apparently twice as loud, frustration being let out on them, "Guessed so…"

Shaun groaned, for once really at a lack of words – he knew that everything that he'd say wouldn't come out as wanted. So he simply kept silent, lying down on the bed, facing Desmond. The novice went on ignoring him, trying to keep playing – the historian was sure though, that he didn't even see the damn thing.

"You've been playing with that damn thing for… what? Six hours straight now?" – unless he had only acted as if he played whenever Shaun was close by; which he didn't, because the historian had heard the annoying peeping sounds all the time, even in the main room – "How come the batteries haven't given up yet? That thing must be pretty old already…" Shaun was only musing, trying to find out if Desmond even listened to him.

Which he clearly did, because he held up a power cable that lay next to him on the sheets. Next thing he did was snort an curse at the DSi, grimacing. "Fuck…" he murmured and closed his eyes, "Game over again…"

Shaun had to bite back a small smile, crawling closer, hands stroking over the assassin's legs. He'd only have to try and talk to him. Now was his chance.

"Come on now, Des…" he started, voice soothing, "You know that Lucy is right… We can't put you inside all the time… especially not if your body is already strained as it is…"

"You could! You just don't…" Desmond snapped. If the historian hadn't known better, he'd think that he was dealing with a cat that would scratch him very soon…

"We know, Des… Abstergo did – but we really aren't those Templar bastards, as you should already know…"

Golden eyes met Shaun's coppery ones for a moment and the historian was sure that he'd never seen eyes of that color that felt so predatory and cold… Then the color changed back to the natural brown and the novice's face relaxed a little. Blue, something in his mind whispered, the same hue as Leonardo and Malik had.

"I know – otherwise you'd already have your throat slit."

Silence settled over them, the handheld still being the only thing making sounds. There was still the weak clattering of keyboards from the room next to them floating in through the half-closed door, but nothing else. Not a word being said.

Shaun calmly massaged the novice's thighs and calves, feeling the tense muscle underneath his jeans. Even through the fabric he could feel the scar tissue, the cuts covering the skin. They had only sent him on one mission, a normally simple one even – and he had already come back tattered and torn because of those bastards.

Which also was the reason to keep him away from the Animus – Desmond was pretty much a wreck, even though he didn't look like it, wearing his new pants and hoodie which were covering all the wounds and bandages.

"Lift your legs."

"W-what?"

Desmond stared at Shaun in shock, handheld almost slipping from his hands. He shook his head, trying to calm down. His heart was pounding. Embarrassingly in anticipation. That had certainly sounded…

The historian snorted, amused. Instead of explaining himself though, he just gripped the other's ankles, lifting them up and only let them drop to be draped over his hip and thighs. He was facing the other assassin, grinning at him, pleased when the younger one relaxed against him at once.

"Feeling more comfy now?" he teased. He just chuckled when Desmond tensed up immediately – just for show of course – and shot him a stern look. "No use to lie now…"

"J-just fuck off, Hastings…" he hissed, making Shaun's grin widen visibly. Well, it really was more comfortable now, especially with his feet dangling in the air now, not having to support any weight. And even though he'd never admit it… he felt better now with someone near him. Even if it was the annoying historian that he was draped over.

But no, never was he going to speak those thoughts out aloud.

He could feel the Brit looking at him, his gentle touches, fingers gracing his legs, his side, his elbow, arm and wrist… It felt good… and it was harder to concentrate on the screen. Desmond had to clench his teeth to not sigh or whimper, his nerves too sensitive because he started to feel tired and sore – and it had been just too long since he had been touched like this the last time. They hadn't had any time since they had fled from the warehouse…

He squirmed, the hand slipping underneath his hoodie, stroking the bandaged skin.

"S-stop it, Hastings!"

He really tried to shoot him a stern look… But he couldn't. It simply felt too good, he wanted Shaun… But he wouldn't beg, never.

And apparently, there was no need to – because if he read the other's look right, Shaun was pretty aware of his thoughts. At least that was, what his grin said.

The historian propped himself up on his elbow, the other hand reaching forward to snap the handheld shut and throw it onto the mattress next to them unceremoniously. Next thing Desmond knew, he was grabbed by the collar and pulled down, lying next to Shaun now, their legs somewhat entangled. Fingers combed through his chopped hair and a soft sigh escaped his lips.

"Hm…" Shaun mused, his breath washing over the younger one's face, "Kinda looks as if you are enjoying it…"

"Just shut up now, Shaun…" Desmond growled, amusement lacing his voice, eyes glowing now, "I guess you can put your mouth to better use?" Lips pulled into a smile were soon covered by the Brit's. For a moment, the Animus was forgotten, the Apple was and the Templars too.

"Love ya…" Desmond whispered in between two kisses, rolling both of them over so he kneeled on top of Shaun, grinning down at him, "But don't you dare thinking that you'd get to be on top just cuz I'm a lil' tired…"

"Guys?" Rebecca shouted, knocking at the door of Shaun's and Desmond's shared room, waiting for a reply that wasn't coming, "Desmond? Don't tell me you killed our favorite history geek while no one was there to film it!" The sound of rustling clothes was heard, making it apparent that at least one of them was still alive. Rebecca waited a few moments longer before entering, just to be safe. She had had already walked into them a few times.

She had to admit that it was fun, seeing how Shaun blushed and all… but considering the fact that all of them were full-fletched assassins, you shouldn't really make anyone of them your foe.

"Comin' in!" she gave a warning, giving them the time to at least pull a blanket over them, just in case, only walking in afterwards.

A fit of giggles escaped her as she watched the two of them, sitting on the bed like before, with Desmond's legs draped over Shaun's thighs, the historian facing the wall.

"You feel better now, Des?" she asked. Des nodded after a few moments – and a look at Shaun – and Rebecca couldn't help but notice the shine in the novice's eyes as well as his still flushed cheeks. His hair was a little ruffled, his cloths a bit wrinkled up. She acted like she hadn't seen it, instead pointing at the handheld. "Well, happy to see your moods become better. You can still keep that thing if ya want to – I don't really need it…"

"Thanks, Bec…" Des murmured, looking down at the handheld again. His fingers pushed a few of the buttons again. The blush kept darkening more and more as time passed and he could still feel the techie's looks on him. Rebecca knew exactly, why that was.

She turned around, hand extending towards the door, then looked over her shoulder.

"Come on, Des… You really think I wouldn't notice that the DSi isn't even turned on?" she mocked him straight out, listening to the curses being passed between the two behind her. Especially Desmond's hissed "When did you fucking asshole shut it off?!" that was promptly answered by a most likely truthfull "Just when hearing her approach, you prat."

Outside on the hallway she stopped for a moment to just listen, hearing a low gasp, making her laugh even more.

"And Shaun… Don't think I haven't seen where your hand was!" she chimed, almost floating towards the Animus room, ignoring Shaun's yell to "Shut yer mouth!"