The Long Campaign

[madimpossibledreamer]

realizing that I'm borrowing from old Treadstone/Bourne series headcanons for Bleeding Effect stuff.

Main Points:
Assassin's Creed
Summary: Adult relationships are complicated.
Word Count: 1528
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Shaun/Desmond
Warnings: swearing, Bill being canonically abusive

         Shaun hates the coffee with a passion, but they only have herbal teas, this time, and he hates falling asleep mid-work more, so coffee it is. He finishes the additions that make it almost something he can stomach, turns around, and Desmond—is just there. Again.
         It’s good to have proof that all this training is working just as intended, but Shaun is going to have a heart attack at the ripe old age of thirty-seven, and they’re down enough Assassins as it is. Not that Assassins tend to live too long, he knows this, and history is the best predictor of the future.
         “We are going to have to bell you,” he insists, trying to encourage his erratic heart rate to come down, it’s all right, the pretty Assassin won’t hurt you, it’s not that much of a drop.
         The man smiles ruefully, fully present by the looks of things. “Why not just a tracker?”
         Usually they don’t—too much chance of interception, too much chance of giving themselves away, and there’s the ever present looming bogeyman of Abstergo tech. With Desmond, it’d be too much like caring for a wayward pet, but Shaun doesn’t voice this.
         He shrugs, instead, awkward and nervous, now. “Is there something I can help you with, Desmond?” Please go away.
         “I always knew I wasn’t good enough. Figures Dad would want to replace me with a son he could be proud of, a real Assassin, the second he could.” It’d be easier to take Desmond’s words if they were bitter, but they’re not. He’s just resigned. “And he always made it clear that he wanted grandkids, someone else he could beat into shape to carry the great family genetics.”
         Some of Shaun’s confusion and sympathy must have made it without permission into his expression, because Desmond pauses, then continues, “You’ve absolutely noticed. The Bleeding Effect is changing to something Sixteen…” He shrugs helplessly. “It’s new. I know I’m not Ezio or Altaïr, but I also don’t know that I’m Desmond, and I might not know your names but I know who you are to me. I like it, because I’m more and less myself than I’ve ever been, and it scares me, but it’s way the hell better than it was, so. I was flirting with Lucy and yeah, I like her, but she’s been holding me at arm’s length and that doesn’t do enough to anchor me, keep me in the present. You do; you care enough to try.”
         His voice sounds like glass. Vulnerable. One step away from shattering all over the floor. “I don’t...I don’t even blame her. Chances are with everything going on I’m going to end up dead or insane sooner rather than later and she probably already had to deal with enough at Abstergo that I don’t...she’s prioritizing her mental health, survival, and I get that, I don’t blame her, but it still hurts.”
         He takes a deep breath. Not crying yet, thank goodness, because Shaun has absolutely no idea how he’d deal with that. “You tried, too, at the beginning, but you’re the one who lets me talk or ramble without the poking or prodding, and I know, I get it, I’m one episode away from being a danger to all of you or myself, but you still treat me like I’m a person, even if I’m struggling. You’ve been there for me, anchoring me somehow, and—”
         He’s blushing a little, but grinning. It’s an attractive combination, even if he’s opened up more than Shaun’s ever heard, even if he’s still vulnerable and ready to yell. “I think part of it is the database entries, the fact that you do those in English, the fact that you include modern humor and sarcasm. It’s...a nice reminder that no matter how much I feel like Ezio, I’m not. I could’ve used those for Altaïr. And Rebecca’s right. I want this, want you, and if Lucy or Bill think they can take you away from me they are absolutely wrong, because I’d track you down. They need me to cooperate, to be their perfect little soldier, and just ‘cause I’m going along with it now doesn’t mean it has to stay that way.”
         And then a mood swing, and Shaun braces just in case that’s another Bleed, but Desmond throws up his hands, gesturing like an Italian as he continues in English. “Oh, but I didn’t think about—I’m sorry. I don’t—what kind of monster am I, that I actually want someone to be torn up when I’m gone; I shouldn’t want that to happen to someone that I supposedly care about…”
         “You’ve never been the priority,” Shaun interrupts. Not that he’s been told, exactly, but he has a feeling, based on interacting with Bill, based on all the things he’s heard. He’d judged, possibly unfairly, previously, but now he has a better view of the situation. He’s harsh, but they’d gotten along swimmingly, cut from the same cloth, even if Shaun trends more toward the sarcasm end of things, but some of the things the man says about Desmond are clearly wrong, and perhaps people are only people based on their value to the Mentor. “Not as a son, not as a lover, coworker, friend. Not as a person.”
         He takes a deep breath. “Stillman’s the same, but the two of you dealt with it differently. She still prioritizes the mission, the Brotherhood, sure, but after that she’s learned to put herself first because no one else has. You’ve learned to put everyone else first, that maybe if you’re just good enough you’ll be loved. You’ll be considered important enough for who you are, not what you are.”
         There’s no point in wishing for circumstances to be different. In Shaun’s experience, in his studies while there’s beauty in the world it’s often surrounded by pain. Perhaps, if he’s feeling poetic, rather like those thistles. They all deserve better than this, but the only thing they can do, really, is make do.
         “I’d thank you not to tell Miss Crane, but...she was right. Even if I don’t act on this, either way, I…” He takes a deep breath. Stiff upper lip, no matter how stereotypical that is. “I already care too much. Though perhaps it’s just enough, if it helps?”
         Shaun has absolutely no idea what to say after that little speech, but from the way Desmond sighs and smiles shyly, he doesn’t have to say a word. “I can actually be discreet, if you want me to, and I am absolutely going to go slow because we don’t have that much time and you deserve to be swept off your feet, but it feels like this...you...are the single thread that’s holding my sanity in place, and I need this and you want it.”
         “Oh, great, thanks for that, Desmond, as if I didn’t already have enough pressure—” Shaun’s brain has finally managed to reboot, thank goodness, except it’s not for long because those are soft lips on his cheek, and when he leans back against the table like he’s on display Christ he needs to stop, Desmond is smiling softly.
         “I used to hate the thought of fighting at all, but if anything being all of them has taught me…” He’s not looking away. “...Some things are worth fighting for.”
         Shaun glances at his coffee, swallows, and sets it down, just in case. He’s been ordered not to share this information—by Lucy, because it’d be ‘a distraction’; Bill hadn’t thought it would matter, showing that he still knows absolutely nothing about his son. “I am, technically, only a consultant. I have practical power, ordering around teams and all that, but the minute someone who’s a real Assassin pulls authority, I’m nothing. Hell, even Rebecca outranks me, and she can’t override my superiors on this one.”
         Desmond’s eyes darken as he glances down at his clenched hands, and if he’d been wearing a hidden blade Shaun would bet several hundred quid he’d be hearing a ‘snickt’ right about now. “Jesus, this is all so messed up.” When he looks up, the determination in them alone could slaughter...probably every Templar and Assassin if they got in the way. It should be terrifying, but it’s not. Then again, Shaun has known something’s wrong with him for a very long time. “All right, little gestures, and me throwing around my rank. If I need to, I’ll remind them they’re not gonna get very far if they have to put me into a coma.” Unlike Vidic. Hoo-bloody-ray.
         Not like blackmail is going to endear him to the Assassins, but what the hell, Shaun has a feeling that if he turns this down ‘for the greater good’ Rebecca will kill him and hide the body. It’s not like he’s been happy in a long time. “I look forward to it. Now, it’s the time when all good little Assassins should be asleep. Shoo.”
         Despite his words, Desmond walks him back with that little shy, pleased smile to the workstation and falls asleep on the hard stone floor, right where he can watch Shaun type away at the keyboard.