![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
squirrellysemanticsFandom: AC2 and Doctor Who
Chapter 3
Rating: NC17 for this chapter,
Spoilers for Season 5 of new DW., post finale AC2
Pairings: Shaun/Desmond Ezio/Leonardo
I do not own AC2 or DW.
Previous chapters are Chapter 1 here and Chapter 2 . Needs to be read in order to make any sense. Might not make sense in any case.
Feedback greatly appreciated.
Warnings: Lame humor. I've been insanely busy but I'm dying to finish this story before Ubisoft does whatever they're going to do in ACB with their 'twists'. Much rampant speculation ahead.
-------------------
Shaun must have lost his fucking mind. Or maybe Abstergo had replaced him with his evil twin. Or would this be the good twin? Or a slightly less evil twin, in any case. Eyes narrowed, Desmond couldn't help staring at the Englishman with kettle in hand puttering around the kitchen humming. Hopelessly tone deaf, but still...
Humming.
"Morning, Desmond!" Shaun joined him at the small kitchen table, tucking into his breakfast with enthusiasm.
Drugs in the water supply? Possible. Desmond regarded his own coffee with a hint of suspicion. “Mornin’,” he replied cautiously.
The laden fork in Shaun’s hand paused half way to his mouth. “Is that all you’re having?” He jerked his chin in the direction of the untouched cup of coffee that Desmond hadn’t yet dared to try. “You really should eat something.”
A brain tumor. Shaun had a brain tumor. “Thanks, Mom. I’m not hungry,” he said automatically, trying not to flinch as Shaun stared back at this response with the scrutiny the historian normally reserved for ancient Sumerian texts.
Truth be told, Desmond wasn’t hungry. He’d woken up feeling pretty shitty, the vertigo from the day before lingering a lot longer than it ever had in the past. Maybe he was the one with the brain tumor. Fuck. All he needed was another unwanted visitor taking up residence inside his head.
Shaun thoughtfully chewed through a mouthful of bacon. “Feeling all right, mate?”
“Fine. I’m fine,” he answered too quickly, thrown off by the concern. “What about you? You’re awfully… “ Disturbing. “-chipper this morning.”
The scowl that suddenly graced the Englishman’s face made everything feel a whole lot more normal. “Yeah, well it’s hard not to be excited when you stumble across the very thing you’ve been chasing after since you were twelve.”
This made Desmond sit up a little straighter. “That Doctor weirdo? You knew him since you were a kid?”
“Knew about him? The Doctor is every conspiracist’s wet dream.” Shaun finished off his toast with a messy bite. “He always pops up in some seriously top secret stuff. Very hush-hush. Nobody official has been able to pin him down with anything more than rumor or hearsay.” He paused, taking the time to lick his fingers clean before he continued. “One name was there again and again whenever the Doctor turned up: Abstergo. And from the way the work they’ve been doing recently they’re still hunting for him.”
It took a second for Desmond’s brain to catch up from this finger-licking business. “Wait. How could they still want him? This guy’s been dead for a couple of centuries at least.”
“That’s just it.” The ancient kitchen chair creaked noisily as Shaun edged closer. “There’s traces of the Doctor being neck deep in almost every world changing event for hundreds - thousands- of years. I bet he’s still out there right now. Somewhere.” If Desmond had blinked, he would have missed the look of longing the historian shot at the window.
Clearing his throat, Shaun gave himself a little shake and continued. “Anyway, here’s the tricky bit. It's been too many different eras, too many different faces. If it was different people all calling themselves the Doctor then why does the same person show up millennia apart?” Hands moved rhythmically as Shaun spoke, increasing in tempo as he spun more and more of his theory with breakfast long forgotten. “He’d have to be some kind of shape shifting immortal or maybe has the technology to travel through time.” A distracting hint of tongue peeked out to moisten dry lips as the Englishman continued, inching closer to his listener inch by inch. “From that absurd Philadelphia Experiment cock-up, we know the Templars have experimented with using the Pieces of Eden to control time, yeah?”
Nodding without thinking, Desmond felt his attention slip from his grasp. Fuck. Why did Shaun have to be like this? Abrasive and sort of a dick some of the time- OK, most of the time. But then there would be these all too brief moments where he was immersed in his passion, his thirst to share knowledge making him tantalizingly comfortable in his own skin.
A sigh slipped from Desmond before he could do anything about it. Idiot. It wasn’t like he was holding out hope for romance. Not a single damn thing suggested Shaun would be open to getting hit on by a guy. And no- being English didn’t count.
This torture, this teasing hint of easy interaction hit him hard after his confinement at Abstergo. There were lots of reasons he became a bartender. Easy cash, flexible hours and he got to meet people. Lots and lots of people. Being cooped up with a dorky misanthrope who was sorta cute and would show glimmers of being a nice guy made it feel like someone had crafted a special hell just for him
Getting bombarded by Ezio’s virtual sloppy seconds wasn’t making the situation any easier. A constant reminder that even a guy who’d been dead for a long time was still managing to have more sex than you. Whoever invented the Animus probably hadn’t anticipated the effects of making the user a peeping tom – or maybe they had. Pervert. In any case, it was damn near impossible to tune the sensations out so he would close his eyes and let fantasy take over.
One snarky bastard in particular kept popping up in those fantasies.
Christ, Shaun had no idea he was doing that thing with his mouth again, did he? Another flash of tongue as the historian detailed what evidence there was of time travel through the ages and the weight of his loneliness plow through Desmond like a freight train.
“With enough resources, the Assassins would have been searching for the Doctor. But we’re hurting. And we’re running out of time before the Templars make their move.” The historian was completely oblivious to the other man’s discomfiture, lighting up as with the same fierce grin that had appeared at the first mention of the bizarre man in the bow tie. “You found him. You bloody found him. This could change everything."
“Great.” Desmond smiled weakly, gut twinging at the thought of spending another long day in the Animus when he felt like shit. “Sounds like we’ve got some work to do.”
--------------
The sketch seemed to have sucked all of the oxygen out of the room.
Scrunching up her face, Amy leaned in for a closer look as the Doctor put some finishing touches on the piece. “So who are they?”
“Were!” The Doctor interrupted loudly without bothering to look behind him. He added two Greek letters-a theta and a sigma- to the bottom left of the canvas with a proud flourish and whirled around to face his audience. His glee drained from him as the expected applause did not seem to be forthcoming.
Amy rolled her eyes in annoyance which was pointedly ignored. “So who were they? Aliens that came to Earth looking for headwear that didn’t look like a beehive?”
“Pfft! Aliens!” The Doctor's laugh of derision did little to improve the girl's mood. “Didn't that business with the Silurians teach you anything? When it comes to sentient species, this planet has had more residents than a dormitory at a public school!”
“C’mon!” The assassin looked up sharply as the Doctor rounded on him, full of questions and a smile already overflowing with smug satisfaction. “What are they calling themselves this time? My people had a name for them but…” He shot a nervous glance at Amy. “It’s not suitable for polite company.”
The world was losing focus at its edges. He knows. Desmond’s amazement had little bursts of white threatening a desynchronization flashing at the corners of his vision. Holy shit, I think we just hit the jackpot.
Before Ezio was permitted to answer, the Doctor began pacing like the mad man he was. “The Dominators? No! No! That’s already taken! Think, Doctor, think!” He tapped his own forehead as if trying to force the answer out. “Let me guess! The Amazingly Amazing Ones?”
Ezio couldn't take his eyes off the odd little man. “They called themselves Those That Came Before.”
“That’s it?” The Doctor curled his lip in mild disgust. “That’s a bit boring, isn’t it? Usually when an advanced life form starts mucking about with a more primitive species they can't help but call themselves something overbearing and pretentious.”
Amy batted her eyelashes in all innocence. “Like the ‘Time Lords’?”
Crumpling into a pout that would have done a two year old proud, the Doctor gave his companion the dirtiest of dirty looks. “Yes, well… That name is more descriptive, isn’t it? We actually do that sort of stuff-“ His hands fluttered dismissively over his head. “Lording about. Through time.”
Leonardo sank into his chair, hands steepled in front of him in thought. “Fascinating. A civilization that predated mankind. Advanced enough to create the Apple.”
Delight spread across the Doctor’s face. “Precisely.”
“This was not all they created,” Ezio said softly. “The one who spoke to me-Minerva. She said that her kind made us for a purpose.” His knuckles blanched corpse white as his grip around the Apple tightened. “Bred us like cattle.”
“We started out as slaves?” Amy asked, disbelief written plainly across her face.
Horror drained the color from Leonardo’s face. “And kept in shackles by the Pieces of Eden.”
A weary nod of confirmation from Ezio had them all falling into silence.
Desmond held his breath, trying to soak in every part of what he was hearing.
The Doctor broke the quiet with a nervous little laugh. “Yes, well, it wasn’t for long! This lot made the usual mistakes. Too mired in making their technology do all the work for them; too steeped in their own indolence, they forgot that it was the challenges of life that make it worth living.” He pumped a fist in the air, full of false cheer. “Humanity triumphed in the end!”
“Did it?” Ezio sagged as the weight of the world settled over his shoulders. “She had a warning, this Minerva. She said the world burned and was going to do so again.”
“Burned?” The girl’s eyes flashed as she looked between the men around her, her words coming out all at once in her alarm. “What do you mean by ‘burned’? Doctor! What does he mean by ‘burned’?”
“Yesss,” the odd man murmured as he stepped perilously close to the assassin. “What do you mean by ‘burned’?”
Those ancient eyes filled Ezio’s vision, any and every color all at once; the intense scrutiny threatening to peel back every fiber of his being, render him limb from limb to split open the very heart of him for this man’s inspection.
Involuntarily, Desmond shrank back from the gaze that seemed to be searching through the centuries. It wasn’t anything like Minerva. Different this time. Sparkling white light popped up in his peripheral vision but through no fault of his own. No! Not now! Need to stay!
“What’s this?” the Doctor sighed, lips quirking in fascination.
Ezio couldn’t move, couldn’t even breath as the man cooed to him. Or… not him.
“Why hel-lo there! How did I not see you before, hmm? Don’t be shy.”
A gut wrenching twist and an explosion of white and…
-------------
Desmond shifted as his body spasmed, trying to empty the nothingness in his stomach out onto the floor. Footsteps and barked orders were the only thing he could process at first, vision still cloudy from the forced desynchronization.
“Shut her down! Shut her down!” He’d never heard Lucy so panicked before.
“Shit!” Rebecca was at her keyboard, smashing buttons in her haste. “Got it!”
The room dimmed as the pale glow that made up the heart of the Animus faded into nothingness.
“I gotta go back!” the bartender said weakly as he struggled to sit up. “I was close to finding something totally-“ insane “important.”
“No.” Lucy swooped down on to him, lips a tight, thin line as she removed the catheter in his arm. “The Animus is acting up.” In Lucy-speak, this translated to ‘I don’t know what the hell’s going on.’ A wisp of blonde hair slipped from the bun perched on top of her head, tarnishing her usual controlled exterior. “We’re going to head in to town to pick up some alternate power supplies. The wiring in this building is pretty old. Maybe it’ll help.” She softened as she saw him wobble with a sudden bout of vertigo. “Do you need anything?”
“I’ll be fine.” My brain tumor and I. He waved her off. “Good luck.”
Car keys were snatched from Lucy’s desk and the two women were off, gone for who knows how long. The probably didn’t carry Animus replacement parts at Best Buy.
“Feeling sick again?” The question came from the shadows; a Shaun-shaped outline was leaning against the wall by one shoulder, arms firmly crossed across his chest in disapproval.
“You were right about this Doctor guy. Christ, did you see any of that memory?” Desmond countered, not wanting to think about how he felt. “Help me get back in there. You know how important this is.”
“No. Something keeps pushing the Animus to its limits. We should wait for the others.” Shaun emerged from the darkness, looking none too pleased. “It’s too risky; for the machine and for… for you-“
“Since when do you care about me?”
The Englishman exploded. “Since you started looking like complete crap, you imbecile! We have no idea what’s causing this!” He shoved his glasses back to their usual perch on the bridge of his nose. “What if it harms you?”
“I know you won’t let that happen,” Desmond said with a soft smile. “It’d be a huge pain in the ass for you to break in Subject Eighteen.”
After a full sixty seconds of glare, Shaun reluctantly began booting up the Animus.
--------------
The paralysis released Ezio from its grip. “Enough! I am no cipher!” He jabbed a finger at the Doctor’s chest, meeting a surprising amount of resistance. “I am my own man! You will not speak to me as if I am of no consequence!”
Those green-hazel-everything-all-at-once eyes looked sideways at the assassin. “Someone’s done that to you before, have they?” The strange man had the decency to look abashed. “My apologies. That was quite rude of me.” A sudden burst of inspiration had the Doctor dashing to the exit. “C’mon Pond!”
Ezio sagged a little, eager to have this disruptive dottore gone. The comforting hand that Leonardo set at his elbow warmed him to the core.
“What?” the redheaded girl was aghast, openly ogling this show of tenderness. “We’re going? Right now? We are so not going!”
“Don’t worry! We’ve got a bit of a puzzler here and I need to fetch something from my… ship. We’ll be back.” The Doctor was oblivious, throwing open the front door with a flourish. “Gentlemen! Arrivederci!” He gave them a grand salute and vanished.
“Leonardo?” Amy took the hem of her skirt in hand and attempted a little curtsey. “Pleasure to meet you. Ezio?” She gave the assassin an awkward punch to the shoulder. “Really a pleasure meeting you!”
“Amelia Pond!” The summoning bellow resonated clearly from outside the workshop.
She backed out slowly, bumping into things with her eyes unable to drift away from the scene of these two men together. “Well, I’ll… yes, we’ll be going. Now. Going now! But we’ll be back! Bye!”
Rising from his chair as soon as the door firmly sealed them off from the outside world, Leonardo cupped the assassin’s face in his hands. “Mi dispiace molto, caro. I had no idea today’s events would unfold as they did. Whatever I can do to make amends, I will do.”
Desmond squirmed. Shit, I should have known with these two… Keeping himself distanced from their passion was enough of a challenge with how often these two went at it, but he was already off his game.
“You’ve done nothing wrong, gioia mia. And in truth, neither did this Doctor,” Ezio admitted wearily. “I had thought age had given me a thicker skin but it seems the opposite is true.”
“Ah Ezio, the burden you carry would have broken a normal man long ago,” the artist murmured, brushing full lips with his own.
A rich wordless rumble came from deep from within the assassin’s chest. “Dio mio, I’ve missed this. Say it again.”
“That you carry a burden?” Leonardo asked, teeth rasping against what he could reach of rough hewn beard. “Or that you are an extraordinary man?”
Leaning in, Ezio claimed the spot just under the older man’s ear with a lick. “Neither.” A bold hand stroked the artist firmly through his clothing.
“Was it that I am sorry?” Laughter filled Leonardo’s words, only too happy to play this game. “Or that I would make amends?”
“No.” Sinking to his knees, the younger man took great care to unwrap the thickening cock before him. “And no.”
Leonardo leaned back against his desk, no longer able to stand as an eager tongue laved the length of him. “Caro,” he said simply.
A hum of approval vibrated up his shaft. “Yes.”
“Tesoro mio.” Artist hands drifted to card through soft brown hair that framed a handsome face.
Ezio blew a warm puff of air against the sac dusted by light blonde hair, relishing the flush that came to the other man’s thighs. “Again.”
Pupils dilated, the artist panted out a harsh “Ti amo, tesoro mio” and it signaled the torture was enough.
With a teasing taste of the pearl that had formed just for him, the younger man wrapped his lips around the straining cock. Tender suckling of the head had Leonardo thrusting against him. The gasp of “Io sono tuo! Tu sei mio!” had Ezio smiling around the gift he held in his mouth.
It had been too long since last they’d done this. He worked Leonardo hard. Bodies moved in concert to wring a beautiful cry from them both. Leonardo poured himself into the man worshiping his cock, pulse after pulse and-
A familiar dazzle of white and Desmond felt that terrible lurch dragging him back.
------
God damn it.
Returning to the real world with the urge to puke and a raging boner was about as awesome as it sounded.
“Are you all right?” Shaun was hovering over him, full of worry. “Sorry if something big was happening. I couldn’t keep tabs on what was going on and watch the medical monitors. Your blood pressure and heart rate were off the charts so I aborted the memory.”
The tangle of sickness and arousal made it hard for Desmond to speak. “Good. Good plan.”
Feeling along Desmond’s arm, Shaun tried to remove the catheter tethering the man in the chair. This simple touch had Desmond flinching, surge of desire creating the urge to toss the Englishman on his ass and suck him off until they both found out just how many dead languages Shaun could swear in.
“Fuck! Sorry, mate!” the historian stammered, unhelpfully laying a maternal hand on Desmond’s flushed forehead.
“No, it’s fine.” Desmond wasn’t sure if standing up was going to help since his dick was doing pretty well on that front all by itself. He lay curled in the chair, trying to shield himself. Discretion was the better part of hiding your hard-on, or however that saying went. “I just need a minute.”
Shaun pulled up a chair and did his damnedest to hide his nervousness.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-08-25 09:24 pm (UTC)I'm excited that the story tempted you to read it. Desmond is an ancestor of Ezio and the Animus lets him sit in on Ezio's memories. It gets a little more complicated but I dig it a lot. Thanks for sticking with it. I think you'd love both fandoms
no subject
Date: 2010-08-27 02:13 am (UTC)Nia
no subject
Date: 2010-08-27 02:17 am (UTC)