part 1 goddamnit
Rating R for swear words
Warnings for slash and the beginnings of polyamory between three dudes.
Series: Uncharted, Assassin's Creed 2. Spoilers for neither
Characters: Nathan Drake, Shaun Hastings, Desmond Miles
Uncharted is owned by Naughty Dog, AC is owned by Ubisoft. I own nothing.
Summary: Sometimes you find what you never knew you needed.
Feedback is greatly appreciated. Even if you think it sucks, I'd love to know why. Thanks!
For those who don't know Uncharted, Nathan Drake is this guy
who is voiced by Nolan North, who of course also voices Desmond Miles. In game, he seems to be a mishmash of Shaun's humor and Desmond's physicality and determination. Please, please, please tell me that I'm not the only one that thinks of this threesome.
Mudita is the buddhist word for joy or more specifically sympathetic joy in another's pleasure.
Dust rained down as bullets ping-ping-pinged off of the rock face overhead. Desmond vaulted over a fallen log with a quick check behind him. They were close. Too close. A dozen or more ugly dudes with some big fucking guns and they weren’t happy. He looked to the man running beside him. “You’ve got some questionable taste in friends, Drake!”
Nate’s breathless retort came as he paused to return fire, allowing the third member of their party to catch up. “This is-“ BLAM “Totally-“ BLAM BLAM BLAM. “Not my fault!”
“Right!” Shaun snarled back, primal instinct forcing him to duck as more shots came in their direction. “You said those exact words the time I was blamed when you got caught copying off of me during our Latin exams!”
“I wasn’t copying!” A quick slap to the 9 mm in his hand let Drake reload with practiced ease. “I was double checking my work!” Once their attackers paused under the barrage, Drake followed the two assassins after emptying another clip. “Anyway, how was I supposed to know these guys would get all shooty?”
“Just a tip, Nathan but the Italian mafia doesn’t particularly like it when you steal one of da Vinci’s lost notebooks from under their noses!”
“O-ho!” Drake answered with his best rakish smile that only managed to irritate the Englishman all the more. “So we’re back to ‘Nathan’, is it? That usually means you're pissed at me!
“When am I not pissed at you, you gormless twit!”
“Who asked me to steal the notebook in the first place? Ooo, I know! It was some ungrateful English jackhole who brought along his friend with the great ass!”
“Let’s hope your talent at avoiding a future as a bullet riddled corpse is better than your translation skills, you thickheaded knob gobbler!”
Desmond gritted his teeth, not wanting to ponder at all thank-you-very-much exactly how much time Drake had spent contemplating his ass, not when he was already annoyed at being annoyed that someone else had wound up the target of Shaun’s ire. “Hate to break up your little reunion but will you two windbags save it for when we get away from the bad guys?” He quickly surveyed the stark valley surrounding them. “There! There’s a rope bridge at the top of that butte. From there, we can double back, get to the car and get the fuck out of here.”
“Not bad, Miles,” Drake said with a begrudging nod. A slow smirk spread across his face as a hint of the devil glinted out of the corner of his eye. “Try to keep up.” One nimble leap later and the man was already scaling up the rock eight feet from the ground.
Fuck. Asshole must have been an assassin in another life. Desmond hustled through a running jump, arms and legs moving with his own natural quickness to race past a startled Drake. Looking back, Desmond used a smirk of his own. “See you at the top, Dra- aww, fuck.”
Dangling halfway up the rock face, Desmond’s heart sank at the sight of Shaun still stuck at the bottom of their climb, struggling to get to the first hold. “Come on! I know you can do it!”
Jumping again, Shaun tried to quell his panic as the hold remained inches from his reach. “Unlike you two-“ His fingers searched the stone, looking for some sort of purchase, anything at all. “I wasn’t born with the agility of a lemur!”
“I’ll give you a boost!” Drake managed to get back to Shaun first, offering his clasped hands as a step up while Desmond extended a hand down to the struggling Englishman.
“Fuck! Here they come!” Drake freed his gun from its holster. “You guys better hide. I’ve got ya covered.”
Desmond abandoned their climb, giving him a stern glare. “You and what bullets?”
Fishing through his pockets, Drake came up empty. “Crap, crap, crap!”
“Don’t worry,” said Desmond, eyes flashing to eagle vision. “There’s another way out.” /I hope/, he didn’t add as he began his search. C’mon, c’mon. They were in the Vajo Stretto. The whole place was one big fucking canyon. There’s gotta be a place to hi-
A flash of bluish-white and his heart was racing. “Here! Follow me!”
With the two men trailing close behind, Desmond sprinted towards a narrow crack that seemed to split the mountain in two.
“You sure about this?” Drake asked hesitantly, walking backwards to watch for more furious mafioso. “We’re never going to fit in a slot like tha-aaah!“ Tumbling out of sight, Drake fell into an open pit that was damn near invisible for anyone who wasn’t directly above it.
Or completely invisible to those who weren’t watching where they were going.
“Nate!” Shaun called into the darkness with a note of worry that made Desmond scowl.
“I’m fine!” The response was completely negated by a grunt of pain. “It’ll be tighter than a Tokyo train car on a Monday morning but we’ll all fit down here.”
It was a shock to see Shaun turn pale. “We… we’re going down there? It’ll quite literally be like shooting fish in a barrel!”
Nearby shouts of “Il vedi?” and Desmond shoved the reluctant man forward with some urgency. “Not much choice left. Gogogo!”
God damn it, Drake was right. Three grown men could fit but barely. Desmond squeezed in beside the others, the press of bodies, the stink of sweat making the space feel even tighter. Pressed so close, he could feel Shaun moving against him.
At least he hoped it was Shaun. Kind of pathetic, he thought ruefully. It had only taken being chased by a pack of murderous Italians to finally get this close to the man.
The snapping of a twig overhead and suddenly Desmond was blinded by the twitch of a head striking him squarely on the nose. Lights flashing dangerously behind his eyes, there were more than one set of hands steadying him.
A sharp exhalation warmed his cheek. “Shit!” Shaun’s swear came out as a whisper as he hovered with palpable anxiety. “Sorry! I’m sorry!”
“That had to hurt,” was Drake’s rueful assessment. Desmond tried not to flinch at fingers gently probing his upper lip. “No blood at least.
Crunch of leaves under a boot and they all froze. Footstep came closer as a voice from above filtered through the darkness, sweetly crooning and full of malevolence. “Giocare a nascondino, eh? We find you, little rabbits. We skin you alive.”
It was then that Desmond noticed the trembling. The short hitch after hitch in Shaun’s breathing. Slowly, Desmond felt for the other man, bringing his lips to what he hoped was the Englishman’s ear for a hushed whisper. “You OK?”
“I shouldn’t have come. You both would have been safely away by now if it wasn’t for me.” The words slipped from Shaun’s lips in a murmur Desmond had to strain to hear. “Should have left me behind.”
“Everything’s going to be fine!” he hissed back, hugging the man without thinking.
“Miles is right.” He could feel Drake wrap his arms around them both to offer what comfort there was and it shocked him that there was no stab of jealousy. “You can’t think about it like that. We’ll get out of this mess. You’ll see.”
The bravado wasn’t helping; Desmond felt Shaun tense and trembling against him still.
“Hey!” Drake’s whisper was congenial, almost conversational. “Remember that time in Paris? That night we got locked into the ancient manuscript room at the BnF?””
“Are you fucking crazy?” Desmond snapped but the words seemed to have their intended effect as the trembling vanished.
Shaun managed a soft growl. “Don’t you dare tell that story.”
“What?” Drake asked in all innocence. “It ended all right, didn’t it? Just like today will, too. Though this time, I don’t think we’ll have to ditch our clothes on the ro-oof!”
Desmond didn’t need his eyes to know that someone had just gotten a sharp elbow to the gut.
Arms enveloped them both even tighter, Drake struggling to speak through gasps for air. “That’s the Shaun Hastings we know and love.”
Sounds of motion came and went above them. Each second felt like minutes, minutes like hours, filled with an unrelenting tension that slowly ate away at what courage they could share. Desmond could feel it under his skin, the urge to move, to run, to fight.
“Can’t take this anymore,” Drake said, managing to echo his thoughts, not giving either man an opportunity to argue before he shimmied his way from their hiding spot. “All clear! Let’s move!”
With the mafia following a cold trail, the journey back to the car was thankfully uneventful. Three pairs of eyes were constantly on the lookout, expecting a shout, shots fired at any moment before the chase would be on again. Taking the wheel, Desmond watched Shaun carefully in the rearview mirror, the Englishman remaining uncharacteristically silent. Even Drake’s affectionate teasing couldn’t break him out of his shell.
They checked into the first dirtbag hotel they could find, Drake bouncing on the balls of his feet as they wove their way through its labyrinthine hallways. “Hot damn!” he hollered at the top of his lungs, pounding Desmond on the back with forceful enthusiasm. “We are the luckiest sons of bitches alive! Where’d you learn to climb like that, anyway? That was amazing!”
Desmond permitted himself a smile, an open, honest smile, the infectious excitement adding to the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. “Nate, I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”
The man let out a pleased laugh and Desmond couldn’t resist laughing along with him. ““You called me Nate! Ya know, you should totally teach both of us that jump. It’ll come in handy the next time somebody decides to shoot at us.” Full of energy, he turned to Shaun who trailed along behind them. “Which happens a lot more often than… I’d… like-”
His voice died in his throat, forcing Desmond to turn to see what was the matter.
Shaun glared at them both, sharing none of their joyful exuberance. Fists tightly clenched, he looked ready to strike. “You are both imbeciles. Reckless! Bull headed! Imbeciles!”
“C’mon, now,” Nate said softly, looking far too much like a kicked puppy. “Don’t be like th-“
“This is not a game!” Shaun roared, crimson flush suffusing every inch of him. “You could have died today! Because I had to play the hero and come with you!”
Desmond ached at the misery radiating from the man. “But we didn’t. You can’t spend your whole life worrying about things that might have happened or what will happen.” His subconscious acted before he knew it, slowly reaching out to lay a soothing hand on the man’s shoulder. “We’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
His hand never made it, Shaun shrugging it off to latch on to him instead, fingers digging into either side of his skull. Never had he seen the Englishman so full of doubt. “I hope so.”
Utter shock as Desmond felt lips on him, warm and pliable, the barest touch against his own. So careful, so weightless that he wondered if he was hallucinating, until a tongue flicked out, tracing the line of his scar and he couldn’t hold in his helpless moan. He captured the tongue for a moment, wondering why the hell either of them had waited so long, gently sucking as he got lost in the sensation. It continued, this soft exploration, until they broke apart to catch their breath.
“Uh, Looks like, uh… you guys need your space so I..” Nate stammered, cheeks blooming a rosy red as he looked almost wistful trying to inch his way past the two men. “Uh, I will go have a drink. Or ten. At the bar. In another city.”
“Wait!” Shaun peeled himself away to block the man’s path, pleading, hopelessly lost as he looked between the two men. “Don’t go.”
For quite possibly the first and only moment in his life, Nate was speechless, mouth hanging in confusion.
He wasn’t the only one who was confused. “What are you asking?” Desmond managed.
Shaun simply shook his head. “I’m not sure, but please.” He swallowed thickly. “Don’t disappear on me. I don’t think I could bear it. Not right now at any rate.”
Nate directed a contemplative eye at Desmond. Desmond stared back without malice and the man seemed to find what he was searching for. Without another word, they adjourned to their room.
It was cramped, the most they could afford with what euros they could scrounge together. Two singles and not much else.
Arms stretching out overhead, Nate yawned, adrenaline fading to leave them with just exaustion triggering the other men to do the same. He shot them a quizzical look as he waggled a finger at the two beds. “I can take the floor, if you guys want…”
“No, no, you can take it,” protested Desmond. “I’ve gotten used to sleeping in weird places.”
With little preparation beyond that, they collapsed in their respective spaces, Desmond stretched out on a spare blanket on the floor between them.
He expected to be asleep in minutes but Desmond spent the better part of an hour tossing and turning. Mind racing with what the future might hold, no matter what he had told Shaun earlier. The kiss, Jesus, that kiss. It replayed over and over -the softness, the tenderness- leaving him awake and restless. And what was the deal with Nate? The two men obviously cared for each other. How did all the pieces come together? He lost track of how long he’d been going over it in his thoughts when a hand tapped him on the hip.
“C’mere, you moron.”
Desmond couldn’t help his stupid little smile as he crawled into the tiny bed with Shaun, its expanse nowhere near wide enough for them both. Still, they made it work, a tangle of limbs that seemed to fit together somehow as they went this way and that, Desmond not even minding his ass sticking out over the edge of the bed. He was glad to feel himself nodding off, thinking he would finally be at peace, but he found himself drifting in and out of the twilight of sleep to listen to Nate’s faint snoring. Shaun’s own disquiet suggested he might have been doing the same.
The word shattered the room’s soft silence as Nate kicked out against some invisible foe in his sleep.
It came again –‘No!’- louder this time, the insensible man wrestling with whatever inner demons were torturing him.
But it was the moan of pain that stirred Desmond to action, rising to his feet and coaxing Shaun to follow him. Together they shoved the small bed across the floor, bringing them together until the beds were one seamless unit. Still a tight fit but more comfortable for the three of them.
Nate continued his thrashing, their impromptu redecorating doing nothing to wake him. The two settled in next to him, Desmond brushing against the still-sleeping man’s shoulder to avoid startling him.
The contact set Nate in motion, clinging to the warm bodies next to him like a remora; his breathing evening out as he sank into a more restful slumber.
Desmond let out a puff of amusement. “Why am I not surprised?” he whispered to Shaun, though the man was already conked out, burrowed tightly into Desmond’s side.
He laughed in earnest this time and Desmond didn’t even notice when sleep finally claimed him.