Fandoms: Assassin's Creed 2/ Doctor Who (11th Doctor)
rating this chapter nc-17 to be safe
warning: slash content, silliness
Pairings Shaun/Desmond Leonardo/Ezio
spoilers for end of game AC2, S5 DW
I own neither of these creative properties and make no money from them
Summary: Leonardo da Vinci receives a visit from an old friend.
Should be read in order to make any sense. Still might not help. Past Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
Hopefully this is comprehensible for those unfamiliar with one fandom or the other. Comments and critique are greatly appreciated. If you enjoy this story at all, please let me know. As always please don't crosspost to fb/twitter
Child’s play 4
Jesus, he had to eat something. Actually consuming food was the last thing on his mind but Desmond hadn’t eaten since yesterday and that couldn’t be good, could it?
Starve a cold, feed a brain tumor.
Rebecca and Lucy hadn’t returned from Animus R’ Us or wherever the fuck they were, so getting more information about this whole Doctor thing had come to a standstill. Maybe a snack would get him feeling better. He yanked open the refrigerator to find anything that might remotely be appealing with zero appetite.
Something tickled the back of his neck as he rummaged through the shelves.
Disappointingly the fridge was chock full of Rebecca’s Mountain Dew, half a carton of orange juice and the remains of one pathetic looking sandwich.
God damn it.
He cursed at his foul mood, brought on by the whopping great headache he’d developed on top of the dizziness that persisted from that morning. At least it had killed the boner he’d been left with by Ezio, the horny bastard. The bleeding effect of the Animus was supposed to help him acquire his ancestor’s skills as an assassin and he was fairly sure Ezio's sexual talents weren’t intended to be part of the curriculum.
Speaking of sex, Desmond glanced over his shoulder in trepidation.
Busy at the Animus was Shaun, chewing up his lip in frustration as he slowly went through the recording that held most the recent memory involving the Doctor. Had he gotten to the part where it got all blowjob-y yet? God. The embarrassment factor of knowing what the Englishman was about to see was like having your mom find your porn stash multiplied by a factor of about eleventy billion. He supposed he could say something, but what? Don’t watch the last twenty minutes unless you want to see a whole lot of Italian sausage? Desmond grabbed what was left of the sandwich and the orange juice and headed in Shaun’s direction, not quite sure what he was going to say.
As he turned, something warm and wet poked him in the belly button. Was... was that a tongue?
He spun around.
There was nothing. He was alone.
What the fuck was that?
The carton almost fell from his grip as what was most definitely a pair of hands massaged his ass.
A hopeful look at Shaun’s back before disappointment set in. Nope. The guy was at his computer, sitting all oddly stiff and awkward in his chair but there none the less.
What had he been expecting? Of course there was no way those would be the hands in question. His luck had already made its way down the shitter.
Desmond nearly jumped a foot in the air when an invisible mouth began nibbling on his ear lobe. He felt a breathy moan against his ear.
Aww, crap. He’d had front row seats enough times to recognize Leonardo. It colored everything he knew about the Renaissance man. Whenever Desmond saw the Mona Lisa he could only think about how the artist had a thing for leaving bite marks. Art history was never going to be the same.
Well, this was just peachy keen. It wasn’t often the bleeding effect forced him into a memory without the help of the Animus, but did it have to keep picking times when his ancestors were about to get some?
Desmond took a deep breath. These were just little flashes of the past, not more than a few seconds. The danger was if they lasted longer, Lucy had said. She had kept reassuring him that he wasn’t spending anywhere near as much time in the Animus as Subject Sixteen had been forced to so he should be fine. These little blips didn't mean he was about to go bonkers and paint the walls in his own blood, right? No, this was normal.
With the vertigo and the headaches.
Around him the world flashed to shades of grey and there he was, seeing an outline of a bed with a long, lean man spreading himself out upon it. Color and details began to fill in and it became more obvious it was a wanton Leonardo, wearing only a look filled with such love it made Desmond’s heart ache.
That’s not for you. None of that is for you.
Desmond struggled to set his pathetic meal on the kitchen counter before the memory made a mess of things.
Shaun sounded pissed. This was a small comfort at least. Desmond wrapped himself in the normalcy of it as if the angry man were a little cranky blanket, hoping to keep himself grounded in the present.
The Englishman spun him around by the shoulder, looking an impressive shade of scarlet. "Thought you’d have a bit of a laugh at my expense, did you?”
"Wh..what?" Desmond struggled to make sense of the words. The nice little flush on the other man's cheeks was taking up what little concentration he had left.
"You know bloody well what I'm talking about!"
A ghost of a hand wrapped around his dick. “Ah! Uh, sure.”
“A little warning would have been nice! ‘Hey, Shaun- watch out for that last bit where my ancestor gets to play ‘smoke the cigar’ with one of the greatest minds in history!’”
“Not like it’s the first time,” Desmond murmured. He had to bite down on his tongue as he felt his dick slowly making its way somewhere warm, deliciously warm and wonderfully tight. Phantom legs settled around his hips.
“Now I won’t be able to look at the Vitruvian Man without thinking of Leonardo’s willy!” Shaun blinked wildly as his brain caught up with his tongue. “What do you mean- it’s not the first time?”
Maybe this was supposed to be a new assassination technique he was supposed to learn: death by embarrassment.
“They fuck.” The words forced their way out of Desmond who was trying not to visibly thrust in time with his enthusiastic ancestor. “Like rabbits.”
“That’s not possible! I… I would have known!” The Englishman went even redder than before. “Even if I don’t always sit in the sessions when you do them, I still go through each video after Rebecca-“ He froze, near apoplectic. “Rebecca, you little cow!”
“Okay.” Both Ezio and Desmond were close to the breaking point. “I think I need to lie down.”
Shaun’s rage vanished, replaced with concern. “Do you need me to help you with anything?”
Would bending you over the couch and fucking you stupid be okay? ‘Cause that would be nice.
“No, I’m good.” Fingernails raked down his back. He wondered idly if it would leave a mark. “Gah- gotta go.”
Desmond hastily retreated to his bedroom where the memory finally overwhelmed him before he could even remove his sneakers.
“So let me get this straight,” Amy asked, scrambling to keep up with the Doctor. Her high heeled boots were not meant for Florence’s cobblestone streets. “You saw someone inside Ezio?”
“Yes,” the Doctor said simply, too distracted by the gadget he’d retrieved from the TARDIS.
“Soul sucking parasite?” She cursed her fashionable taste as she narrowly avoided twisting her ankle for the hundredth time.
“No.” The device made a sad little noise which prompted the Doctor to deliver a sharp smack across the top, which got the device squealing again.
“Alien implantation.” Amy snapped her fingers at sudden inspiration. “In preparation for invasion!”
“Ooo, I know! Demonic possession by a spirit of the underworld named Phillip!”
“Nuh-uh.” Somehow the Doctor unerringly navigated them back to the bottega without once looking up to see where he was going.
She raised a pointed eyebrow, knowing exactly how to extract a response. “Maybe there wasn’t anything and you imagined it all.”
The Doctor finally glanced up from the device, looking terribly offended. “Now you’re just being silly.” He rapped a knuckle against the door to Leonardo’s studio and waited. “What I saw was more of a temporal stowaway. It uses a rudimentary form of time travel, probably using genetic memory as a tether to keep the individual from getting lost in the space-time vortex. More useful for eaves dropping than anything else.”
“Someone listening in from the future?” she asked. “Focusing on Ezio?”
“Essentially, yes. Not really traveling so very limited in the grand scheme of things unless you have a burning desire to find out where Great Grandmother Hortense hid her stamp collection. Usually these sorts of flirtations with time travel aren’t dangerous like a pebble that barely causes a ripple when dropped into the ocean.” The Doctor flipped back his coat sleeve to consult his bare wrist for the time. “But this business about the world burning has me concerned just a smidgeon. This signature and the warning must be related in some way. Too much of a coincidence and you know how I feel about coincidences.”
With an impatient sigh, he gave a quick look around for guards before forcing the door open.
“Manners!” Amy chastised but followed along behind anyway.
The Doctor closed the door soundlessly behind them, looking slightly guilty. “I’m not normally one to break and enter-“ He held up a finger in warning which cut off Amy’s laugh of derision before it began. “But this is important. I need to know more about Ezio. He’s the key but a very stabby key by the looks of it and I would like to handle this with a minimum of bloodshed.”
He consulted his device once more which promptly fell silent.
Amy hid her laugh behind her hand. “And that thingamabobber is supposed to help?”
“It’s sort of a bloodhound. Sniffs out the temporal signature of Ezio’s guest. Lead us right to wherever or whenever he, she and/or it may be.” The Doctor gave the device a little shake, looking like he had just lost a dear friend. “Or is supposed to anyway.”
He shrugged, haphazardly shoving the thing into his pocket. “C’mon, Pond. Let’s start with Master da Vinci. I’d like to find out how well he knows this Auditore chap. We have to bring Ezio with us on the TARDIS to accurately locate his guest and I’m not so sure that he’ll willingly come aboard.”
She followed with some trepidation. “Doctor, do you think it’s wise to go snooping-“
“Snooping? Snooping? This is not snooping!” he said, storming off down a corridor in a huff. Amy almost plowed into him as he pulled up short. “All right! It’s snooping,” he conceded. “But I have my reasons!”
There were several rooms to choose from, all behind closed doors. The Doctor pressed his ear to one, face scrunched up as if this would somehow help him hear better. He knocked softly and waited a brief moment. The lack of response had him flinging the door open to reveal a supply of canvas and too many brushes to count.
“This may not be the best method of…” Amy started before the Doctor shushed her violently.
“Not now Pond!” he whispered, making his way to another door. He had his ear firmly shoved up against it when the door swung inward and the device in his pocket began singing like a demented songbird.
“Can I help you?”
Ezio’s muscular form almost filled the doorway, wearing little beyond a thin bed sheet slung low around his hips. The light from inside the bedroom highlighted the myriad of fine scars that crisscrossed his skin.
The hoot of appreciation died in Amy’s throat when she saw the man looked less than pleased.
“Yes! Yes! Hello! Yes!” The Doctor frantically tried to silence the shrieking device. It trilled one last time and died. He looked up guiltily. “We were looking for Leonardo.”
The Italian rested his elbow against the door jamb to better glance back behind him into the bedroom’s darkened recesses. He returned his attention to the two interlopers wearing a subtle but distinctly self-satisfied smirk. “He’s not able to speak with you at the moment.”
“I ah, ha! Yes, well!” The Doctor shielded his eyes, tips of his ears flushing bright pink. “I have something I’d like to discuss. With both of you. When you’re less… indisposed.”
A curt nod from the man as he rumbled “Of course.”
The door slammed shut and a bolt was thrown home for good measure.
Amy bit the inside of her cheek in amusement. “I’d say it looks like Leonardo knows Ezio rather well …”
She received a not-so-gentle shove that sent her back the way they came.
Ezio slotted the bolt and returned to bed, discarding the sheet at his waist as well as any desire for modesty. Easing himself next to the loose limbed man sprawled out before him, the assassin placed a gentle kiss between the other man’s shoulder blades. “Time to rise, amore. There’s work to be done.”
The answer was a wordless grumble.
Finally, Ezio let himself smile openly. “Lazy bones.” He trailed a feather light hand down the sleeping man’s spine. The shiver this caused was most pleasant.
One blue eye finally opened. “You have ruined me, you wretched man.” Leonardo twisted in place to face the younger man above him. “How am I to function today when I can barely muster a coherent thought?”
Ezio delivered a playful bite to pale skin. “I can provide some incentive.”
The artist arched into it, threading his fingers through long brown hair to keep the man’s attention where it was. “This –ah!- is hardly giving me motivation to leave this bed.”
“Think of this-“ Full lips captured the blonde man’s nipple for a moment. “As a hint of future services.”
Leonardo let out a mock sigh. “Then by all means, let us rise.”
They made a game of dressing, teasing and caressing as they went. Once they were fit for company, they joined the Doctor and his companion in the drawing room.
The Doctor pounced on them as soon as he was able. “Ezio, can you tell me more about the warning you received from Minerva?”
“There is little to tell,” he answered, stroking his beard in contemplation. “Aside from what I already told you it made little sense. She said it was not meant for me but for one named Desmond.”
A fierce little glow lit up in the Doctor’s eyes as he and his companion shared a knowing look. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet as he asked, “How would the two of you like to go on a little trip?”
The dramatic change of topic did little to interfere with Leonardo’s curiosity. “On your ship?” the artist asked. “You promised me once, when you looked… different-”
“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” The odd man spread his arms out wide. “So what do you both say? Just a quick little spin?”
Ezio heard the red headed girl clear her throat softly. Her lips barely moved but his her words still fell within the range of his hearing. “Doctor, I thought you said you just needed Ez-“
Letting loose a quick ‘shh!’ the Doctor was again all smiles.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Leonardo answered breathlessly. He turned to Ezio. “What say you?”
His instincts were in turmoil. Ezio knew the artist trusted the Doctor, his own eagle vision had shown the stranger to be an ally. But the very heart of him cried out to not turn his back on the man.
Still, the hopeful look on Leonardo’s face- so full of eagerness- was something he could never deny.
Ezio settled his shoulders, trying to look at ease. “When do we depart?”
The big blue box lay in an alleyway mostly ignored, not far from where the assassin had first spotted the disruptive strangers.
“This is your ship?” Ezio failed utterly at masking his disdain. The words scrawled on the outside were in English but he could make them out well enough. ‘Police Call Box’. What an odd name.
“Yes!” the Doctor said proudly. “A little worn on the outside, but it’s on the inside where the good stuff awaits!” He unlocked the door and threw it open with a flourish. “After you!”
Amy strolled in without a backwards glance. Eyes wide, trying to capture every detail, Leonardo followed into the seemingly tiny cabinet.
Ezio regarded this dottore with suspicion. “What game is this?”
“No game,” the Doctor answered, smile slipping slightly. “I’m harmless. Really.”
Neither backed down from the other’s scrutiny.
Hearing Leonardo’s cry of “Dio mio!”, Ezio could no longer wait. He strode through the door, eyes taking a little longer than usual to adjust to the reddish glow.
And what he saw made his breath catch in his throat. The space inside the cabinet was enormous, just the first room alone larger than Leonardo’s studio with a myriad of staircases and doors suggesting much more lay hidden beyond.
Desmond tossed and turned in his dreamless dream, not sure what to believe. The whole thing was getting crazier and crazier. Or maybe he was the one going crazy.
Leonardo was already circling the center console in fascination. “The exterior and the interior!” he said, reaching out to touch a brass knob. “They are on a different plane of existence, yes? It must be so for the spaces to overlap. And the vessel travels within this alternate plane.”
“Ooo, I just knew you’d get it!” the Doctor crowed, dashing up to the console in delight. He danced around the controls, flipping and twisting all manner of knobs and dials. “A man well before your time, Leonardo!”
“It’s magnificent!” The smile on the artist’s face was worth all of Ezio’s worry.
“She is nice, isn’t she?” the Doctor asked coyly, stroking the console with affection. “Amy? Why don’t you find Leonardo pen and paper?”
Ezio kept to the periphery to assess the space for potential exits and was irritated to find nothing useful. He could feel the Doctor’s eyes on him when the man thought he wasn’t looking.
Once the artist and the girl were suitably distracted, the assassin approached the console.
And the Doctor.
“Why are you doing this?” Ezio asked simply.
A dial began spinning out of control and the Doctor danced on one foot to kick at it which seemed to remedy the problem. “That’s not usually the first question I get from new passengers.”
“I leave the ‘how’s’ to smarter men. It is your motivation that is of greater concern.”
The strange man shot a measured glance at the assassin. “You don’t trust me.”
“I suspect the feeling is mutual.”
The Doctor paused, his gaze intent enough to peel through layers of armor. “I want to stop the world from burning.”
“As do I.”
“Yes, but our methods are far different I suspect,” murmured the Doctor. “I’m not one for violence and it’s not something I abide in others.”
“Really?” Ezio laughed, dry and humorless. “You play the fool, but you dodge and deflect with the skill of an assassin. You call Leonardo friend yet you use him as bait to ensure I follow.” He licked at the decades old scar on his lip. “I know your kind. There’s blood on you whether by your own hand or the hand of another.”
He savored the hit as the Doctor blanched at this. He continued to press his advantage. “We are not so different, you and I. We use the tools we are given to do what we think is right. No more. No less.”
There was a sad smile from the Doctor. “I can see why he enjoys your company.”
Ezio looked to the unsuspecting ‘he’ in question, who was busy coaxing a laugh from Amy with some small joke as she watched the blonde man quickly capture the design of the console on paper. “He won’t be hurt?”
The Doctor followed the other man’s glance to watch Amy punching the artist in the shoulder and dissolving in a fit of giggles. “No. He’ll be safe,” he said with no small amount of fondness. “He is destined for great things.”
“This I know,” Ezio said with affection. “And the girl? How does she fit into all of this?”
Neither man could take their eyes off the pair; the girl making faces for the man as he tried to sketch her mugging through their laughter.
“I suppose she’s a little like Leonardo,” the Doctor murmured distantly, more to himself. “Sometimes we need someone close to us to remind us what’s important.”
The mood shattered as the Doctor began a frenzy of activity once more. “And we’re off!” he joyfully declared as if nothing of import had passed between them. One pull of a lever and the whole room began shaking, speaking with a massive groan. The glass tubes in the center column began their movement as lights flickered across the surface.
The transit seemed to take but a minute before all the noise and motion stopped. “Here we are!” The Doctor flicked on something that was a window but was not a window, revealing what was looked to be the exterior of the craft.
Desmond felt his heart hammering against his chest. That… that was the kitchen. With the carton of orange juice and that sad, sad sandwich he’d forgotten all about still waiting for him on the counter. He didn’t even get a chance to get a better look before there was a flash and he was
Back in his room.
Tangled in sweaty sheets, Desmond struggled to rise from his bed like a man drowning. He stumbled to the doorway, feeling the ground move underneath him like a carnival fun ride.
“They’re here!” he yelled hoarsely, using the wall as a crutch to get down the hall.
Shaun appeared out of nowhere. “What’s the matter with you, Miles? Who’s here?”
Desmond staggered drunkenly to the kitchen and leaned heavily against the jamb. He lifted a quaking arm to point at the big blue box occupying most of the little space. “Them.”
“Good God!” Shaun stood at his side, gaping like a fish. “It’s… it’s-“
The door eased open on the blue box and suddenly Desmond was in a hurricane.
He was himself: lost and sick, his head pounding, hoodie making him too goddamned hot all of a sudden, no air in a room that had somehow just filled with people coming out of a cabinet or some shit like it was an elevator.
At the same time he was someone else. Ezio- leading the way from the machine of the Dottore into an unfamiliar world, hidden blades at the ready, to find himself frozen to the spot by the sight of two strangers, one of whom was wearing his face.
The two perspectives battled each other for space in Desmond’s mind.
Was this how Sixteen felt? His consciousness being pulled apart like taffy, identity fragmenting into a million pieces as it was tugged in too many directions all at once.
Creak of well worn leather as he stepped towards himself. Dio mio, did he always look like that? Pale and sweaty and kind of gross.
Grip of panic at the thought that this might be the last vestiges of his sanity slipping through his fingers.
The pressure surged in his head until it felt like he would explode. His knees buckled and the ground rushed up to meet him.
Someone caught him before his head could crack against the floor. Oh, hey Shaun. Thanks for the save.
From Ezio, he could see Shaun turning increasingly frantic as he cradled a limp form in his arms. “Desmond!”
Another jolt of disorientation as he simultaneously saw and felt Ezio go through the act of crouching next to him. There was a bizarre sort of stereo- in his ear, inside his head – of that sweet honey of a voice breathlessly managing to fill one word with a thousand questions: “Desmond?”
A great thunderclap of hands coming together made them look up. Two images began to overlap, almost merging into one. The Doctor standing over him at slightly different angles, looking back and forth between the two men with hands clasped together tightly to his chest as if he’d just been given a most delightful present.
The pleasured smile that blossomed on the Doctor’s face was brilliant enough to light up the night sky. “Desmond!”