Trading Blows

[madimpossibledreamer]

Like the tour this ended up being more parts than intended, mostly because it flows better.

Main Points:
Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Desmond had been looking forward to this until Shaun actually gave him the time to think about it.
Word Count: 1985
Rating: Teen

         It’d been easy not to think about, partly because he’d been enjoying work and the novelty of not being on the Farm, but Desmond sometimes honestly really missed the simplicity of just...practicing fighting with someone. He’d tried to ignore it, because that was such a complicated feeling he didn’t really like to dwell on, but yeah.
         It’s an even more complicated feeling now. He’d tried leaving behind the Hidden Blades, because he’s worried, but he doesn’t have a great place to put them and, more importantly, he’d almost had a panic attack the second he tried to take them off, so...they’re there for emotional support, he supposes.
         It’s probably not going to be as much of a spar, either. He’s overheard some of the newer recruits talk about training and they use practice dummies, so that’s kind of what he expects, too. When Shaun actually goes to pick up a sword after bringing him to the ‘flat’ (honestly a little too big of an apartment, they went all out, it’s even down the street from Templar Hall why) he figures out he’s wrong and almost panics again, but, like, he’s pretty sure the cover of Weird Dragon Experiment only covers the magic-adjacent stuff Shaun’s probably going to teach, too, and probably be better about giving pointers than the physical fighting. The historian is taking it a bit too seriously, given that he’s already scolded Desmond for trying to wear the big obnoxious sunglasses. “Aren’t we going to use those?” He gestures at the practice dummies. They do have them.
         Shaun glares and gestures to the other sword, impatient. “I have passed all my physical training, thank you very much. Otherwise it would have waited for Rebecca to be free. As it is, yes, you have me, and yes, I am very much qualified.” ...He takes almost all of this personally, doesn’t he? A question about the exact choices made is suddenly a reflection on the man’s competence.
         On the other hand, he’s going to have to learn how not to kill sooner or later, to hide the fact he’s an Assassin. He’d just rather not start out with one of his friends.  Sure, he’d done some sparring with Lucy, but they’d pretty much given up on that after Lucy—
         And, well, that probably wasn’t the only thing. Not that any of them had said anything, and not that he’s been Bleeding since he got here, but they’d all been wary of the Bleeding Effect.
         His Eagle Vision spots a camera. His money’s on Rebecca.
         Shaun tsks at his hesitance. “I’m not just here to watch you flounder, Desmond. You have put on the talismans as recommended, right?”
         So he hadn’t been kidding about magical armor. Which, this is going to be a good demonstration of how that works, but also—
         “You’re wearing some too, right?” He really, really doesn’t want to take chunks out of his friends, particularly when he’s not sure if they’ve had visits from Bees or not. He’s guessing not, but they’re also just generally weird, so he wouldn’t be utterly shocked if they were weird in this, too.
         “No, Desmond, I normally wear rings, bracers, and necklaces. I weep for your general observation skills.” ...That’s a really good point, but Desmond hadn’t wanted to assume anything. “And before you ask, yes, these are the most powerful protection artifacts we had lying around. Now, are you done stalling?”
         It is also, to put it mildly, frankly weird to see Shaun without glasses. Apparently he does own a pair of contacts he hates, going by how much he complains about them, but Rebecca had broken his glasses once when they’d been training, so he’s been more careful since.
         Shaun’s stance is...actually kind of ready. Like he might actually know what he’s doing, which is simultaneously cool and kind of worrying; hopefully he doesn’t know enough to actually push Desmond too much. There’s the talismans, sure, but the Assassin might be a little distracted trying not to go for the throat.
         Unfortunately, that wish goes unanswered, because Shaun gets a little too impatient and goes for it, except he’s not showing easily exploitable weaknesses. Even when he’s aggressive, he’s not exposing himself too much, ready to deflect if he has to. On the other hand, Desmond easily evades the attack.
         “We’re not here for my exercise. Fight back,” Shaun growls, and that—
         Sure, it’s a taunt, designed to do exactly what it does, which is tick the Assassin off. “Don’t sound like my dad,” he responds in a low warning, because even if Shaun doesn’t know the specifics, they get it, at least a little.
         Shaun winces a little. It’s not clear if it’s from how hard he hits the historian’s sword, because yeah, even his hands hurt a little from that one, or from the comment itself, but he doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t say anything else, either, or even give him a break, just strikes out again, and this time Desmond takes the effort to meet it, because all right, this is fine, nobody’s hurt or maimed yet. It’s just sparring. He can do this.
         It’s easy to get into a rhythm. A little too easy; he gets a little complacent and Shaun slides his sword down. He’d practically lose the skin on his hand if his wrist talisman (which oddly just looks like a wristwatch) didn’t light up slightly. It looks like the attack just slides right over the top of his skin, which...okay, yeah, he’s feeling a little better about actually fighting back after that. As they trade a few more blows, a few things become obvious.
         One, Shaun’s actually good. He’s not Altaïr, but then, practically no one is. Mostly, it seems like the Templars here require fighting practice even for those who aren’t on the front lines, and the historian takes that as seriously as he does everything else. Desmond is better, but even though he knows about the talismans and has actually seen them in action he’s really reluctant to, say, try to stab his friend in the heart or neck. And, infuriatingly, even though some of that had been on purpose and part of it was just the fact that he’s been flying under the radar all his life because he didn’t want to be seen as a threat, Shaun isn’t taking him seriously.
         It happens faster than he can even consciously follow. One moment, he’s blocking an attack; the next, there’s the clatter as his sword’s falling to the floor and skidding away, and the Templar gets closer (to do what, he’s not entirely sure), and suddenly Desmond’s got his wrist up to Shaun’s throat. Maybe a bit to the side. The talisman might’ve been the only thing that saved the guy; it’s unclear because everything is going way too fast and this is just what he’d been worrying about.
         Desmond’s other hand is holding Shaun’s sword. He has a vague memory of disarming Shaun and taking it. Sure, he’s seen the talismans are good and all, but still, it’s probably a really good thing Shaun had been too close to actually stab straight through or he’s got this icy feeling muscle memory would have gone for it, and he’s still not sure how the talismans work or what happens if they fail. The sword falls seemingly of its own accord, because he really didn’t want to be holding it in the first place.
         “Bloody hell Desmond!” Shaun’s staring wide-eyed and a little cross-eyed at the Hidden Blade, in shock for a moment or two before that wears off and he reaches out to grab Desmond’s arm, pulling up the sleeve and inspecting the Hidden Blade like he hadn’t nearly had his neck skewered.
         The Assassin, meanwhile, is trying not to panic, so he’s not quite in the frame of mind to shove Shaun off.
         “I just...I could have killed you.” He doesn’t mean to say that.
         And Shaun is every bit as unsympathetic as he’d expect, although some of the effect of the glare is lost without the glasses. “That’s the point. But no, you couldn’t have. Not with the talismans I’m wearing.” Except, no, he’s wrong, because Desmond’s getting the feeling if he used whatever power he has access to, now, he probably could have just...negated the protections, and that is scaring the hell out of him.
         “Why the hell are you being such a hardass? You know I’ll just come back.”  Or at least, that’s the assumption Shaun should be under, anyway.  It comes out angrier than he intends, but it’s better than actually stabbing the guy.
         Shockingly, this time at least, Shaun doesn’t take the bait. He’s still scowling and looks grumpy, and he does back up to return some personal space, but he doesn’t immediately snap back. “Knowing you’ll come back and knowing you’ll be fine are two different things.” And that—
         That’s sweet enough that he doesn’t have a clue how to answer. He’s not used to people caring about him, not this much.
         The historian seems to understand, because his voice is almost gentle as he continues, even if he still looks angry and like he’s about to pick a fight at any moment. “That weapon. I’ve never seen its like before, but based on the construction, it’s not good for long-term fighting unless it’s reinforced, and it’s not exactly meant for self-defense either.” He pauses. He’s fishing for something, but Desmond has absolutely no clue what he’s looking for. “Were they training you to be an assassin?”
         That’s unexpected and damn it, Desmond is not going to cry. “Something like that.” His voice is a little hoarse, but the fact that Shaun’s not interrupting or rushing him, just watching and looking a little upset? He’s trying to be as good a listener as he can manage. “I don’t...fighting isn’t the problem. I don’t mind that. But they wanted me to be a weapon, and I wasn’t very good at that. Or a soldier, maybe. I wasn’t very good at that either. Questioned orders too much.”
         “There is nothing wrong with that. There is nothing wrong with you.” Shaun can’t actually meet his gaze at this point, probably because he’s embarrassed. He lets out a long, deep breath. “Perhaps it’s a good thing you ended up Dragon, no matter what else I feel about them. And—well. To put it lightly, those who slip through the cracks...I mentioned it before, that some go missing. That may have been an understatement. If you end up taken in by one of the Big Three, you’re protected by centuries of agreements and enforcement by the Council. If not, you’re not beholden to becoming a foot soldier in some secret war, but that only remains true for the duration you can keep out of sight, and it’s generally only a matter of time. That being said…” He pauses again, then visibly decides ‘screw it’ and continues. “...If you should ever need Rebecca and I to kidnap you and lock you in our office, let us know. I even think I could get that signed off on by the higher ups, as long as you mainly help with our Illuminati intelligence. The Illuminati previously attempted to distract us by occupying us with recreating the story of St. George. I hardly think we’d mind returning the favor.”
         That is sweet and hilarious and probably more than half Rebecca’s idea. Desmond can’t help but grin even as the image of Vidic politely requesting a kidnapping comes to mind. It’d never happen. “I think I’m okay for now. Rain check?”
         Shaun acts offended as he retrieves his own weapon. It’s hard to tell if that’s legit or not. “Of course. The offer remains open.” He eyes Desmond’s sword on the floor again, and makes a decision. “We’ll start again when you feel ready. No need to rush.”