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The assassin cell were granted a quiet weekend break for once, and Shaun and Desmond were cuddled up together on the couch of their new safehouse. They were discussing the hidden blade’s history again, a common topic between the two.
Desmond, ever restless, shifted around until he could put his head on Shaun’s thigh, staring up at him for a second, ‘I mean, why did they need to cut off their finger for the blade originally, if it wasn’t actually necessary for it to work?’
Shaun huffed an amused sigh, grabbing Desmond’s arm to look at the not-so-hidden blade strapped to it. ‘It was a sacrifice, to prove their devotion to the creed, effectively. We’ve got records implying that it wasn’t the intention, originally. The original assassin—er, hidden ones, as we were called back then, had sliced his finger off by accident during an assassination,’
Desmond winced at the image his mind created, causing a quiet huff of laughter to escape Shaun.
‘Yeah, it’s not exactly a pleasant image,’ Shaun mumbled before continuing, ‘But, anyway, we saw him with the missing finger and decided, “Oh, that’d be great, we should all slice our ring fingers off in honour of him.” effectively. And, of course, there was also the argument for practicality. If he accidentally sliced his finger off, then it was clearly a big risk, so why not just get rid of the finger entirely to avoid it happening at all?’
Shaun paused in his rambling to look down at Desmond, a part of him a little afraid he’d bored the other man into silence. Des, however, just frowned and shifted a little to stuff his face into Shaun’s stomach, his free hand snaking around Shaun’s back to give him a squeeze.
‘Sounds dumb,’ came Desmond’s muffled voice, causing the Brit to huff out another laugh. ‘’m glad we don’t do that stuff anymore.’ He’d added on, keeping his face firmly planted in the soft fat of Shaun’s tummy.
Shaun hummed in agreement, dropping Desmond’s wrist in favour of running his hand through his hair instead. ‘We can thank Leonardo Da Vinci for that one.’
Desmond couldn’t help the small smirk appearing on his face at the mention of Leonardo, only to then immediately yelp in pain when Shaun tugged on his hair. ‘Ow! What the hell was that for?’ He’d hissed, smacking Shaun’s hand away from his scalp to rub at the now tender patch of skin.
Shaun simply scoffed, ‘Oh, don’t be a baby,’ which had Desmond making a little offended noise. Shaun ignored him and continued, ‘I could feel your stupid bloody smirk. How many times do I have to tell you, I do not have a thing for Da Vinci—’
Desmond couldn’t help himself. Suddenly the pain in his scalp and the offense at being called a baby was all gone. He’d burst into laughter, causing a noise that was extremely similar to a whine to escape Shaun’s throat, which, of course, only got Desmond to laugh even harder.
‘Shut up!’ was all Shaun could say, his face turning a rather absurd shade of red. Before Desmond could even think about trying to pull himself together, Shaun continued, ‘I will push you off this couch, Des. I’m serious. Shut. Up.’
It would have been a little threatening if not for the fact that Shaun’s voice was an octave or two higher due to his embarrassment. Desmond only barely managed to pull himself together enough to choke out two simple words, ‘You’re blushing.’
Shaun groaned, and indeed, did attempt to shove Desmond off of the couch—only, he’d miscalculated, and Desmond was a lot heavier than he remembered, and in the end only managed to jostle the man laying in his lap only slightly and nearly winded himself in the process. Needless to say, Desmond was launched into another fit of giggles as Shaun resigned himself to hiding his face in his hands and groaning pathetically.
Desmond attempted to stifle his giggles, shifting until he was able to grab at Shaun’s hands and pull them away from his face. ‘Aw, c’mon it’s not that bad,’ he’d started, giggling through the sentence that made Shaun know whatever came after it was going to be stupidly embarrassing for him.
‘I’m sure you’re not the only one with a thing for a historical figure,’ Desmond continued, proving Shaun’s hypothesis correct and forcing him to groan once again.
Shaun was originally going to argue, site sources on how he did not have a thing for Leonardo Da Vinci, but instead decided to try and guilt Desmond instead. ‘You are a horrible person, you know that? You are evil, and you hate me—your partner. You despise me, actually, and even want me dead.’
Desmond, still giggling, managed to force himself to pout for about two seconds, barely long enough to whine out a little, ‘Noo…. That’s not true…’ before he was smiling and giggling once more.
Shaun huffed, trying very hard to hide how amused he truly was with Desmond’s antics, and continued to whine, ‘You’re laughing. You’re laughing at my misery—meaning you clearly want me to die, Desmond. You wish me dead.’
‘Nooo, I want you to live… Who else is going to tell me about dumb history stuff no one else cares about?’ Desmond whined through his giggles, snaking both arms around Shaun’s torso and once again stuffing his face into the soft fat of his tummy.
Shaun scoffed, a stupid little smile now ghosting his lips. ‘And he admits it, he’s only with me for my incredible intelligence and nothing else,’ he’d joked into the air, ‘Why am I even with you?’
Desmond tilted his head a little towards Shaun, looking adorably grumpy, ‘Because I’m kind… and have nice eyes…’ he’d mumbled.
Shaun barked out a laugh, ruffling Desmond’s hair, ‘Yeah, you do have nice eyes.’
Desmond couldn’t hide the huge grin that got out of him even if he tried, a light flush tinting his cheeks as he hid his face with his arm—the one with the hidden blade strapped to it, causing Shaun to remember what they were originally talking about.
Poking at the blade on Desmond’s arm, Shaun considered if it was worth it to continue his rambling. Desmond peeked up at him after a moment of silence and, noticing that Shaun was clearly debating something in his head, prompted instead, ‘You can keep talking if you feel like it.. I wanna know why they changed the blade to not need the sacrifice anymore…’
Shaun took hold of Desmond’s hand, gently manipulating his wrist until the pressure pistons inside the blade triggered, causing the weapon to spring forward from its sheath. ‘It’s really not that interesting, honestly. Leonardo had basically just gotten excited about having something new to work on, and wanted to make it automated instead of relying on the ring system the previous blades had used—he was kinda known for that; always trying to find ways to make machines and such,’
As Shaun spoke, Desmond had a fond little smile on his face—he always enjoyed listening to Shaun talk about stuff he was interested in, and it usually meant he was going to be learning new stuff at the same time.
Letting Desmond’s wrist go, Shaun watched as the blade returned to its sheath with a soft hiss. ‘As for no longer requiring the sacrifice, it became less of a risk when the blades were made thinner—because they used to be a lot thicker in width, back then—and with Ezio, he never had those roots the other assassins did, so he didn’t join in with the sacrifice—the beginning of the end for that tradition.’
Desmond hummed softly, grabbing to hold Shaun’s hand and feeling his fingers twitch lightly at the contact. ‘So Ezio killed the tradition? Isn’t that kinda… sad?’
Shaun tilted his head slightly, considering the question. ‘Depends on how you look at it, I suppose. To me, it’s just a sign of things changing, as they always will. A new era for the assassins.’
Desmond hummed again, giving Shaun’s hand a little squeeze, ‘Would you consider us a new era for the assassins?’
With his free hand, Shaun shoved Desmond’s head lightly to the side, ‘I’d consider you annoying and cheesy. But yes, we would also be considered a new era for the assassins, because we are living in the modern day, you numpty.’
Letting out a quiet whine, Desmond gave Shaun his perfect puppy-dog eyes, ‘You’re mean..’ he’d mumbled with a pout causing Shaun to huff out an amused little sigh.
Ruffling his hair in lieu of an apology, Shaun leaned down slightly closer to Desmond’s face, and muttered a soft, ‘Yeah, but that’s why you love me.’
Desmond stuck his tongue out at him.
‘I guess I do, yeah.’