sixthiterationlogs | (no subject)

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WHO: Lucy Stillman
WHERE: Behind the inn (near the school) & later on Desmond's
WHEN: February 14
OPEN TO: Frank Castle, Desmond Miles
WARNINGS: (Please warn for adult content or anything triggering)

Lucy didn't have a single clue on what to feed a puppy in a place that didn't already have dog or puppy chow available. There weren't any supermarkets around, she couldn't simply walk over and grab a bag off a shelf and dump the cost on a plastic card. When hotdog had told her that they had recipes they could share, that alone told her that she would be getting her hands dirty cooking up puppy meals.

And speaking of puppies—who thought it was a good idea to put something so small into a box and give it to her? She was trying to fix herself, wasn't that the more important first step to take? Why throw a puppy in the mix? And also baby chicks? This had to be a joke.

Thankfully the boxes were deep enough that she could fold up a pillow case and line the bottom to make it more comfortable for them, leaving the six to cheep cheep within. Lucy wouldn't have to worry about them getting out and wreaking havoc on the furniture. This puppy on the other hand? It liked to wiggle a lot in her arms as she was making her way along the snowy path, her black pack over a shoulder. At least he was small, small and had a thick coat to fight off the cold.

What had he said? Behind the inn and near the school, something about a big 6 on the side and a bunch of animals outside. It shouldn't be too hard to miss.

"Hello?" she was calling out as she approached, the puppy barking in her arms as if to also announce himself.

After spending a few moments with Frank and letting him have some time to see her new little furry companion, a stop in at the Inn was quickly needed to pick up some sandwiches (it seemed like a routine whenever she was going to see him) and Lucy made her way down the path to where Desmond's house was situated. The puppy was calmer now, enjoying the snow and trying to eat it, which was fine with her as she was watching him the entire time to make sure he didn't pick up anything. Surprisingly he hadn't fought with the leash, though at first he hadn't quite understood why he couldn't run off ahead of her but he'd caught on quick.

Going over to visit, was it the right thing to do? They'd had their time apart since returning home weeks ago, she'd kept to herself most of the time, when she wasn't sitting and talking with Ezio. Lucy still wasn't sure if telling him who she really was had been such a good idea, but perhaps it had been for the best; she'd had to tell someone, and after he'd seen what he'd seen at the shrine, after he'd assumed the worst and had pulled her from the tub at home, some part of her had figured he deserved an explanation for her behavior. For whatever was going on between her and Desmond.

It was on her terms that she was speaking up. Choosing to speak to one of the greatest Mentors the Brotherhood had ever had, telling her story, it was a big step in the fact that the Mentors she was familiar with hadn't been the greatest. They'd been assholes, on both sides, Bill more than anything as he'd had a hand in training her her entire life. This Ezio was younger, much younger, he wasn't old and wise, and yet he had... handled her confession well. He hadn't tried to kill her, there was that.

Lucy came out of her thoughts as she turned to the front path of Desmond's house, taking the steps slowly with the puppy as he thought it was a good idea to try and leap over them all, nearly face-planting into one.

She reached out and knocked.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Frank is sitting out on his stoop, dogs looping around his front yard while he smokes the last of a joint. Not very hospitable, maybe, but this red wristband situation has made him a lot less conscientious of others. At least, in ways where he might care how he's perceived. The big pitbull in a handknit turtleneck runs up to her first even though he's usually the shiest of the critters, he smells a puppy and he is all over Lucy the second she arrives. Aretha is more cautious, the black-and-tan bloodhound who's ready at any point to alert Frank to a threat. She's become more prickly since the color-change, like she can sense her master no longer has his teal-linked abilities somehow. And then, last but certainly not least, is Bruno the little crocdog. He's dressed in a winter parka made of elk's hide and purple zalpaca's wool. In fact, there's just such a purple creature in a pen out back, she and the little sheep bleat while the groffle noses through the snow, unconcerned about any type of visitors. Frank wasn't kidding about his menagerie, apparently.

"Eden?" he calls, getting up with a little wave as he puts out the joint on the sole of his boot and drops it into his pocket. He's tall and bulky, but somehow seems less imposing in a thick coat and the long hair/beard combo he's cultivated over the long months spent just this way - wiling away his time with animals and weed in this place. Frank can't help the toothy smile as he spots the little bundle in her arms. "Go on, put him down, these guys'll show him what to do."

No, seriously, he wasn’t kidding. It takes her by surprise, all of it, the greeting especially from the pitbull. The others join in and Lucy unconsciously tightens her hold on the puppy, brows lifted. “Holy smokes—” Her puppy wiggles and wiggles, clearly wanting to be let down so he can play. “Easy, not so fast,” she mumbles to him.

Lucy looks over then at the call. “Show him what to do...?” She looks between the approaching man and all the animals. “Man, you weren’t kidding. He’ll be okay? You’re sure?” With her teal abilities not out of whack she wasn’t able to sense any danger, simply her own apprehension, hesitating before easing the pup to the ground. “All right, go play. I guess.”

She could actually foresee play dates. The little guy would need to get out of the house, though she wasn’t sure how big he would get. Something to watch for over the next while.

Brushing off the front of her winter jacket she moves forward. “Should I call you Hot Dog or...?”

He laughs warmly at the way the puppy charges ahead into the snow and the other three take off after him.

"Yeah. Shit outside, get out their energy. They'll be fine." Frank has taken care of a lot of dogs during his stay here, whether he's adopted them personally or not. Lucy's made a good contact in raising her pup at least. The rest of his character might be... questionable, but no one else has ever seemed concerned about it here. And with his red personality in full swing? Frank isn't worried about that changing. "That's fine. Or Frank."

Get it...? No, he doesn't care about the joke anymore, it's just as natural as breathing by now.

“Ah, that’s right. Big Frank’s. Fancy Franks. Frank’s Gourmet Hot Dogs— How about we just stick with good ol’ Frank. Though I might start calling you Frank the Dog Whisperer. For obvious reasons.”

Lucy tucks her now empty hands into the pockets of her jacket, scarf loosely wrapped over her head and keeping her warm while they’re outside. “So, how long have you been around? Should I assume long enough to have a little zoo of your own?”

Frank just lets her rattle on, shrugging a shoulder when she ends on just his name. "That works too, I think it says that in the Census book."

No, like, it actually does. He doesn't fuck around when it comes to dogs. He gives a glance at his livestock and nods.

"Since last Summer? Yeah... a while." Long enough to grow this impressive muskrat on his face, anyway.

“Huh. You must really love dogs. This is my first time with one. Spent most of my life around cats. I’m a little curious as to why I got baby chicks and a dog and not just a cat.” Not that she would complain. A pet is a pet, and sometimes it’s good to have that little furry companion for therapeutic reasons.

Lucy raises her brows. “Last summer? I’ve only been here since the beginning of December.” Oh, she can definitely see that impressive muskrat that’s grown. No wonder he’s got it.

"Probie," he says with a riotous little grin. He's usually not so... chill, even with weed in his system. Thanks, red scrubs personality. "Yeah, uh... Since mid-June, I guess. Me and Kamala and Jess. We came here from another place like this."

He jerks a thumb back towards his house, they all live together there with their thousand animals.

"Never been around cats much before here. They always seem like they've got it figured out... We've got two, inside, if you wanna meet 'em." He whistles for the dogs while heading back towards the house. Lucy looks like she could use the interlude from the cold anyway. "Coffee?"

“Like another... universe?” she asks, following, curious as she’d spoken with someone who’d mentioned the same thing about someone else. Kind of like world hopping, in her mind.

Then Lucy stops. “God,” she moans. “Actual coffee?” He’s not twisting her leg? Lord, she could already taste it.

He laughs at that. He's conditioned to accept these "gifts." He used to always get coffee and whiskey or wine in Reims. Now it's just coffee, but he still can't complain.

"Don't take my word for it." About the coffee, he means. Frank holds the door open for her and sure enough there's a lynx on the couch and a peacat in the window. The dogs all rush the door after her so he keeps it open until the puppy is in. "And yeah, we're... they used to call it world-hoppers. We were in France, but it was all fucked up. If you made even one noise, monsters would come kill you. But then you'd come right back, so."

After that info dump he's going to start the percolator.

“With the pup and the chicks, somehow there were about five bottles of alcohol included.” Inside she goes, scarf unwrapped, jacket undone. She blows out a breath, relieved to have the layers loosened. “I’m sure it’s a sign—I’m going to need them.”

Lucy then starts at the sight of the lynx, eyes widening. “Holy shit. Okay. That’s not something you see everyday.” Same goes for the peacat. God, is this really the world she’s in now? Her boots come off. “Sounds worse than this place. Makes this place kind of like a godsend. How long were you there for?”

"I'm sure you will," he agrees easily as he tracks snow through the house without much care for the mess. "And yeah, this place sucks, but it's kind of... boring in comparison."

Is that rude to say? Whatever.

"Uhhhh - four months? Ish. How do you take your coffee?"

“World hoppers indeed.” She keeps her eyes on the lynx as she follows after him. “Oh, one sugar and one milk, if you have it.”

The puppy breaks away from his new friends and trails after her, barking, and that distracts her for a few moments while Frank’s preparing the coffee. “You said something about recipes?” she speaks up from where she’s crouched and scratching over the puppy’s head. “Do you have anything on the chicks? It’s too bad we don’t have access to Google right now, that would make things so much easier.”

He gets out the stevia and the green milk from his groffle, fixing her coffee light and sweet, the same way he makes Kamala's.

"That's what you call it too?" he confirms softly as he hands over the cup. Down to business then. "Pups need high protein. I can set you up with eggs and elk meat. Sweet potatoes, too. The chicks can probably just eat corn meal? I've got plenty of that pre-mixed."

"It makes the most sense, really." She offers a smile of thanks as she straightens up, taking the cup. Both hands cradle it for the warmth because she'll have to head back out into the cold eventually, it's best to enjoy it while she can.

"Am I cooking the meat? Or can dogs handle it raw?" Lucy wouldn't have a problem with the extra cooking she'll have to do. This is her first time handling a dog on her own, she'd like to get it right. "Corn meal for the chicks, that sounds simple enough."

"I just seer it to kill any bacteria that might be in there, but they could probably handle it either way." He just babies his dogs... obviously. Frank takes a long sip of coffee and shuts his eyes briefly in appreciation. "The little guy have a name yet?"

"Not yet, no. I guess it's still in the works." The sip she takes is slow, careful, and once the warm liquid touches her tongue, damn is it probably the best thing she's tasted since she'd arrived months back.

"Jesus that is good." It's been so long.

He chuckles at her appreciation, nodding his agreement. "Yeah, well, for whatever reason those Observer guys have seen fit to keep me in caffeine. So if you ever need a pick-me-up, you know where to find it."

Desmond went in an odd direction for him after coming back from their ordeal. Well, at first he stayed indoors and spoke to no one, so that was the same, but then he had some talks with Nida and decided to peek his head out a few times. He agreed to go on a trip with Reeve and some others, and it was somewhat healing in the distraction it provided. It gave him something to do. He didn't have to chop down a huge tree and hurt himself as he got his rage out, he instead went and helped people maybe build some things instead. It was nice. Maybe the lack of destruction was necessary since his self-destruction was getting toned down too.

He literally got back the day before, so the small pack he took with him was near the door. He'd have to wash the clothes eventually. Once Lucy reached out, he did try to clean up so he didn't smell like several days of sweat and dirt, and he was freshly shaved, although he kept the amount of stubble that he knew she liked. Just less of a rugged beard than what grew after several days out.

He had no idea what this meant. She had something for him. She apparently had a zoo of animals now. They hadn't spoken since the shrine, and he told her he planned on respecting her boundaries. He left her alone until he felt like talking to him again, and he hoped this meant she was feeling better too. Or it could mean something bad, Desmond didn't know, he tended to expect the worst.

He opened the door and as usual when he saw her face something in him weakened and twisted. Now she knew that he loved her, not that it was much of surprise. But yeah. He loved looking at her. He was about to say something when he saw the puppy and his face instantly transformed. Into a big smile and like a kid on Christmas, getting down on his knee and clapping for him to come over. Desmond could never have a dog, but he sure did love them, even if it wasn't public knowledge. "Hi there buddy." He was trying not to do the baby talk. The baby talk was not sexy and Lucy was still there.

The door opened and there he was. There he was. Emotion swelled in her chest, twisted. She was secretly pleased to see the dark shadow along his jaw, resisting the urge to reach out and let it scrape along her palm. Like she used to. It’d been weeks since she’d seen or talked to him; they were right when they said that distance made the heart grow fonder. However, Lucy didn’t want to keep thinking with her heart.

Watching his face transform as the puppy was excitedly beginning to hop around, Lucy couldn’t stop herself from smiling down at them, watching and still holding onto the leash. “We were just visiting with Frank. He was... having a puppy play date.” Leaning down then she went to ease off the leash, wrapping it around her hand, pocketing it so Desmond could really ruffle the fluffy dark coat.

Being close as they were both crouched down with the puppy, she could’ve brushed his jaw, but no; she was holding back, focusing on the real reason she was there.

“Can we move inside?” She rose up, tugging down the scarf wrapped over her head.

Focusing on the puppy was so much easier than focusing on her or their issues right off the bat, but he knew they weren't going to just ignore it. Nor should they. Desmond might like to run from things, but he really was sort of done with it at the moment. He didn't think going off on an adventure was running; it was a purpose. He liked having a purpose. A lot of emotion went on between the two of them over the past few months. A lot of guilt and grief and lust, and while there's anxiety in his stomach seeing her this serious, he had to accept whatever came next.

"Yeah, of course." Desmond opened the door and ushered them both inside, closing it behind them. The puppy couldn't just go wandering, but Desmond grabbed one of the sticks he planned on using for kindling and offered it to the puppy to munch on if it wanted something. Otherwise his house was as stark as usual, at least to an outside eye. She'd been there enough times to see a little life in it, there were extra warm clothes for example by the door, a second set of boots, even some dishes in the kitchen. There was some rumpling in the bedroom indicating he was sleeping in it. They were small steps.

He felt nervous on the inside, like some weird mix of butterflies that hung too low in his gut, and he cleared his throat. "I, uh. Bull and I have started our enterprise in the north village. We got electricity at the inn and everything." He wasn't so sure she really cared about this, but Desmond definitely cared, and for some weird reason he wanted her to know that he was accomplishing something. That he was doing better than the lump he was before lying in the dark feeling sorry for himself. He was practically an entrepreneur at the moment okay? Women liked that, right? He didn't know what to do with his hands if they weren't touching her, so he put them in his pockets instead.

"You look good, Luce." Better than good, but to be fair, that was because he hadn't seen her in too long and he missed her face.

It was good to be out of the cold, one last shiver passing through her. She took a moment to look around, took note of the differences from the last time she’d been there. His home seemed more lived in, it was a good sign. Living. She looked over his way when he was beginning to speak up, glancing at the puppy playing with the stick to see him settle down with it, happily distracted. “That’s great news.” Her smile felt forced, her words a little too cheerful. It was a simple life update and yet they were both standing there awkward and nerves, and it made perfect sense with how the last time had gone where they’d been face to face. She’d pulled a knife on him, hadn’t been so sure of even herself and who she was. It still played at the back of her mind, the words he’d spoken to her, coupled with the feeling that she didn’t deserve them. She never would.

Lucy cared, of course she did, and she liked to hear about this, the progression in his life, the updates and what he was doing for himself. It was a hell of a lot more than what was going on with her. Dealing with the quiet between them for two weeks after what had happened at the shrine hadn’t been easy. Now here she was reaching out to him.

The compliment drew her out of her thoughts and she absently brushed a hand over her cheek to tuck some hair behind her ear, the cut at her cheekbone healed for the most part, the swelling completely gone. Only a fading bruise remained with what would scar. “It’s been two weeks, Desmond,” she pointed out, glancing up at him and then down between them before tucking the leash into her jacket pocket. If anything, now, she looked nervous, uncertain. It was a damn sure better sight than her unraveling with a breakdown. The shoulder bag was pulled around. “I said I ah... I had something for you.” The wrapped sandwiches from the inn were first offered over. “If you’re hungry or haven’t eaten yet.” And then the bottle of whiskey was pulled out and passed to him. “To wash it down.” Finally, the white hoodie.

Lucy didn’t speak as she shrugged the bag back around to sit at her back, the hoodie folded neatly, held out. It wasn’t the same one he’d worn back home but it was damn near close enough. She figured he might appreciate it and maybe think of their times together as a little family with Shaun and Rebecca.

"I went on a trip down south, they're um, setting up some kind of farming. Frank and I talked about going on a longer trip to explore more of the land." Desmond was filling in space honestly, because he was nervous and he had no idea what to say or what she wanted. "Sorry I'm rambling, I just know that you wanted me to get out more, so." Maybe that would make her happy? It was so stupid now that he heard it in his head, like he was just hoping for her approval. When honestly after what they went through she might not care at all what he was doing now.

She pointed out the length of time and he winced, nodding. "Yeah, I know how long it's been. I wanted to reach out, but I told you I wouldn't." Desmond wasn't sure if she cared, but he did want it clear that the silence between them was out of respect for her, not out of his own wants. When they went silent on each other after Connor's disappearance, it was mutual stubbornness and frustration. He was glad she was there, even if she might be getting ready to say something he didn't want to hear. It was hard to tell. They were awkward, stilted.

He smiled and took the food and the whiskey, uncertain. "Thanks? Are you hungry? We could ---" Eat it now. But then she pulled out the hoodie and his face lit up, equal to the excitement of seeing the puppy. Desmond set the food and booze on the couch and immediately reached out to take it from her. It was silly, to miss a piece of clothing that was so simple, but it was like a safety blanket for him. Desmond immediately put it on, even putting the hood up just for fun, grinning at her. "Man this takes me back." Exactly the way she thought. To when they had their little unit and this was an extension of his being.

"Thank you." His smile is unusually shy for him, rubbing the back of his neck. "I feel a little weird I've got nothing for you. I'll brew you some good beer?"

"It's fine, really." She wasn't going to point out that it was Valentine's Day or else he might feel extra bad then. Seeing how happy he was, however, some of the nerves eased up a bit and she was smiling back when he was dressed in the hoodie. Good, it fit just right. "I got a few boxes earlier. The hoodie was part of one. Maybe it was meant to be, to go to you." Who knew. "But I don't need anything, Desmond, I already have my hands full with baby chicks and a puppy. On the plus side... I found full size bottles of alcohol in one of the boxes."

Thinking then that she wouldn't be staying long, she hadn't removed her shoes. He'd rambled on and on earlier that she felt she should at least respond to some of it so that he didn't feel like she was ignoring it or didn't care. She did care. She cared a lot. "It's... also okay that you rambled. I don't mind. I'm really glad that you're getting out. Don't pull a me and lock yourself inside all day." With her hands now full trying to figure out what to do with the baby chicks, she'd be busy even while keeping to the house. It wouldn't be such a bad thing. At the same time, Lucy didn't want him to worry about her, especially not after last time. "You know I... I kind of wished that you had reached out. I don't know..."

Her head lowered and she looked down at the ground between them, shifted her gaze over to the puppy contentedly gnawing on the stick. Talking about feelings, acknowledging them, it was a lot more difficult when it wasn't scripted. "Things are complicated, and I'm not—" Her hands shoved into her jacket pockets, curled into fists. "I'm not here to make them complicated; I don't want that."

Desmond's completely unaware of the date, otherwise yeah, he'd feel bad about it. Even if they weren't technically together (????) he'd still want to do something for her. Or not. This was very complicated all around, but at least he didn't feel that same kind of empty weariness about it. He didn't used to be so down and despondent all the time, he was a fairly easy going guy his years when he got to be normal. "Maybe I should pour some of this for us. A drink isn't a terrible idea if we're going to talk." He's joking. Ish. Seriously though drinking might be helpful.

But then it'd be about whether they needed alcohol just to talk or if the alcohol made them looser around each other, which was nice in one way but overall, they should be able to talk without it. So they could do that later.

Desmond stepped closer to her. "I wanted to reach out." He got as close to her as he could without actually touching her, lifting his hands like he wanted to, but leaving them by his sides for now. "I always want to talk to you, Luce. I always want to see you. I always want to be with you." Honestly at this point he saw no reason not to be honest. He told her the truth about how he felt, so this couldn't be a surprise to her. "I know that's intense to hear, I know that I'm fucking intense. That we're intense. And I'm fine with toning it down, taking what I can get, but I don't know what you want."

She knew where he stood, so he looked down at her, finally reaching out to touch her cheek, try and encourage her to look at him. "What do you want?"

Frick, if only having a drink or two could make things better, easier. Lucy is by no means an alcoholic but there’d been a point over the last few weeks where she’d considered more than a couple of glasses. Possibly more than enough to give her alcohol poisoning. But she knew her limits, had never quite gone over them back home. The idea of having a drink with him, the half joke coming from him, she chuckled and shook her head. Liquid courage, it was a thing, and there should be no shame in resorting to it. However, Lucy felt as though now, while it was the perfect time for a drink, she had to consider the aftereffects.

Hearing and seeing him step in closer she had to resist the urge to step back, to recoil. Things felt too off-center still, for her. She had to remind herself that she could trust him and that he was the one who should have the worst trust issues. In fact, Lucy knew he did, and yet he... loved her. For god knows why. “I...” His fingers were at the side of her face, she was being coaxed into looking upward. Why was she hyper focused on the roughness of his finger pads? “I know you’re intense. You’re so fucking intense, Desmond, that I wonder what the hell I’m getting myself into with you because I don’t know what this is. I hurt people. I hurt you, hell, I killed Clay! And yeah—yes, I know, you killed me. I shouldn’t even be talking to you, we shouldn’t have fucked around, yadda yadda. I know. I just... Desmond, I don’t know really what love is. The last time I loved anyone, it was my parents.”

As much as she wanted to lean out of the touch she stayed right where she was, continuing, her eyes gray instead of their usual bright blue, gaze searching his. “I don’t get it, I’m sorry, why you could love someone who’s intentions were never good.” There was a hint of desperation; she’d spent too long trying to twist it around, trying to make sense of her own feelings, of his. This. “What do I want? What I want is unattainable.”

For one, it was him that she wanted, but it was a constant battle between logic and feelings, head versus the heart versus that primal basic need.

Desmond was trying really hard not to touch her more, trying to keep from crowding her, getting right into her personal space. He stayed on the outskirts, maintaining control from sheer will power, because god did he want nothing more than to wrap Lucy up into his arms. She might give in if he kissed her, if he reminded her how good things were when they didn't think, when they were letting lust drive their actions. Desmond didn't want that right now. It wasn't a long lasting type of direction.

He let her talk and kept their eyes locked while she did. "Your overall intentions were good. You were trying to save the world. If anyone understands being willing to do anything for that cause, it would be me." Desmond killed her for it, which he doesn't need to remind her of, but he also killed himself. He would have continued to let others die too, if it led to that end result, and that meant whatever Juno did next was technically his fault too. But there were only two shitty options, one shittier than the other.

"You know what I see when I look at you?" His fingers were still gentle, caressing her cheek. "I see someone who was raised like me to be a weapon, and then was used and discarded like one. By someone she trusted." William Miles, of course. The man who made them both for better or for worse the damaged individuals they were. "I don't excuse all your actions, but I do get them. We were just kids, Luce. Twenty-five, twenty-four, that's as old as we ever got to be, we're still fucking children compared to what other people get to live to." They never got to live out the way that other people could, they wouldn't be able to grow old and have kids of their own.

She already knew he was intense, so he said fuck it in his head. "These feelings aren't rational, but they don't need to be. I know you wanted me to get emotionally attached as part of the mission, but I also know that against your will you got emotionally attached too. This thing between us isn't going to be logical, Lucy."

“I know,” she answered softly, eyes lowering away from his finally to the hollow of his throat. “There’s nothing logical at all about us. And you don’t think we should just... stop, because of that?” What a silly thing to ask of him when she knew his feelings for her. “You don’t think or worry that I’ll discard you, too, after you’ve been used?” Whether for emotional support, for sex, for anything. Taking advantage of his feelings now that they were so out in the open.

Lucy took his hand then from her cheek and guided it to touch his fingers to her temple. “This up here fights with this,” and she then moved his hand to touch over her heart, “while both of those fight with this,” and finally, slowly, she was guiding his hand down, turning it palm up so it could slide down between her legs and cup her over her jeans. “This, Desmond, doesn’t help either of us.”

Doing that went against her original question of them stopping whatever was going on between them, Lucy knew that. Did she care? No. It was the truth. It was too easy to give in to lust and allow it to drive them; a lot of the time she wouldn’t fight it, despite it only complicating everything.

"I mean ... there's an option in every romance that the one person ends up not into it as much, so they end it. If you want to call that discarding after being used, okay, but no, I don't think you're using me." Desmond shakes his head at her, his heart aching when she brought up stopping. He'd do that, if it's what she wanted, but he doesn't think it is. "I'm pretty sure you wish you didn't feel this way about me at all. It would make things easier."

He let her take and guide his hand, and he couldn't help the way his body reacted to touching her. He was very, very tempted to seduce her right then and there, which of course was the exact problem she was bringing up. They got so wrapped up in each other sexually that it didn't solve anything. "Okay for the record putting my hand on you is not the way to make me stop thinking about sex with you." Desmond sounded exasperated and he was. Talk about mixed signals. Because of that, he intentionally took his hand back, so he wouldn't be tempted.

"So what are you saying? You want to stop having sex but work on the other parts together? Because I'm okay with that." Desmond smiled faintly. "My libido doesn't like it, but my heart does, so there we go." His head was not actually warring with his heart. His head lost that battle awhile ago and just gave up. "We could go on a date. Start from the beginning."

She doesn’t stop him from taking back his hand. Hers both go back into her jacket pockets. Nothing would’ve come from that, or that was what Lucy assumed. “No, you’re right,” was her murmured response. “It would definitely make things easier. Not that it was ever easy, in Abstergo and outside of it.” Here, anywhere.

Mixed signals were, right now, Lucy’s jam. Apparently. Clearly she wasn’t making this any easier on herself, either.

“I’m...” —what? What was she? That was the frustrating part—she was there, he was there, they had this history between them. She needed to work that out and stop being so frustrated, so full of uncertainty. “I’m sorry, for one, that we just keep going around and around in circles when it comes down to this. I think I’m—afraid,” she was able to get out, after a pause. She grimaced at how that sounded. “I’m afraid, Desmond.”

The idea of a date was... It was an interesting one. Cripes, when was the last time she’d been on a date, or even had the time?

“...a date? I mean, we can do that anytime. I’d... like that, actually. A date is doable. But starting from the beginning?” Lucy shook her head and was the one this time to reach out, her hand at his forearm. “I don’t think that’s possible, with our past.”

Desmond waited for her to get out what she wanted to say, and his expression softened. When her hand touch his arm, he hooked his hand around to take hers, threading their fingers together. He stepped into her again, his arm sliding around her, and he simply pulled her into him for a hug. Not a kiss or anything that fraught with tension, but he wrapped her into his strong arms for an embrace that he felt they both needed. And deserved. Admitting she was afraid was brave, as far as he was concerned.

He loved her so fucking much.

"I'm afraid too. Don't be fooled by me running my mouth about feelings. I'm terrified." The difference was that he wasn't really capable of keeping his feelings on the inside, so he spouted them, but it didn't stop him from being anxious, or uncertain. Desmond dropped his head down into her hair, breathing her in. "I am scared you'll break my heart. It's barely patched together at the moment, it'd be easy. I'm scared I won't be good enough for you, that there's no overcoming the shit we've done to each other."

Desmond just clung to her for now, if she let him, not really wanting to look in her eyes as he rumbled about his own very real fears. "But I'm scared most of all of adding more regrets to my list, and I ... I can't imagine not trying to be with you while we're both alive and here. I mean Connor was here and then just gone. That could happen to us, and what if I never got to say these things to you before then?" So maybe Desmond was in a hurry, outracing the could've beens. Maybe staying still was asking too much of him.

It was always so good when he did that, when he drew her in. Lucy gratefully pressed her face to his chest and hid the way her expression fell. Her exhale shuddered against him and she wrapped her arm around him, curled her fingers in the back of his hoodie. She’d never felt like she could rely on anyone after her abandonment, that she could only rely on herself. She’d been raised to be independent and she was, but everything was different here. So much had changed. Imagine that, death turning your life upside down and almost running it.

“It’s not going to be easy,” her words were spoken against him, “but we’ll get through it—we have to. We can’t let it run our lives, the choices we make.” Half the time, lately, it felt like what she was saying to him, anyone, the words were like a pep talk to herself. “I’m not, I—”

He was holding on, hard, and she was holding just the same. Until her hand was pulling free of his and she leaned back enough to look up at him, that hand reaching for his jaw. “Look at me,” hushed words, soft. “Your heart’s safe with me. I’m not going to hurt you. And I’m...” Her voice was beginning to waver. “God, I’m so sorry for what I almost did.” The cut at his throat, the blood she’d drawn weeks back. “I was so, I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Clinging to Lucy was not actually new to him, or to their relationship. For a time there, she was his north star. He followed her on the mission she lay out, he let his brain be scrambled and torn apart for the greater cause, and through it all Desmond leaned on Lucy in his heart and mind as the person he could see through the fog. Yes, there were many things that fucked that up, by them and by other people, but he felt the same way now. He felt like things could only be better when she was nearby. There was no real way to put that into words, to express how she was able to focus his entire being in a way no one else could.

He let her lean back and kept an arm around her, looking down into her face. His other hand caressed her cheek, as natural to him as breathing, wanting to touch and look at her like this. He knew it didn't make sense and there were a lot of good reasons it shouldn't, but honestly, Desmond was dead. She was dead. Their lives were insane. Rationality had no point here. He shook his head at her apology.

"It's okay. I didn't handle it right. I didn't know how to handle it." Desmond was ill-equipped to do anything emotionally healthy. "Okay I have two proposals we might want to consider, okay? And you can counter or put some of your own out there." Communication was key as far as he was concerned, and that's why when they talked they sometimes got somewhere. "The first is we should definitely go on a date. I'd really like to take you on one. I mean I have no idea what a date in this place is like, but there's couples here, they make it work. We can talk about all the things we don't know about each other." So learn new things, not focus on their issues and what they went through together alone. Actually get to know one another as individuals.

"Two ...." This one was harder to put into words. "I was talking to Altair. I didn't tell him about you." Of course not. He wouldn't put her in danger, even if he's sure that his ancestor wouldn't hurt her. "But I said that I felt like some of our personal issues really needed to be talked about with someone, but we keep protecting each other and not sharing all the facts, which doesn't get us anywhere." Desmond knew technically he was more likely to be the subject of scrutiny for what he did, but still. That was fine. "I think like we both need to pick someone else that we feel we can tell the whole story to, and then see if that sounding board and honesty will help."

"You handled it in the worst way possible." But that was okay. They could learn from this and move on. What other choice did they have? Still thinking back on him saying those three words, there was no denying the feeling of butterflies that would crop up in her belly. Or it could be anxiousness. Both. Whatever it was it made Lucy feel like she was sixteen again and the hot guy in class had smiled at her.

Her hand moved from his jaw to his chest, resting there to feel the low vibrations of his voice beneath her palm. Communication was key to everything. They needed to be better about it, turn to it first instead of falling back on their emotions to handle the brunt of their issues, which were plenty. "You realize it was my mission to know as much about you as possible, right? I'm sure Abstergo couldn't find specifics, after you'd gone off the grid, but..." Okay look, she wasn't saying no to the idea of going on a date or two. In fact, it sounded like something they needed and an idea they could both enjoy. "Okay. A date. We can do that. We'll find a roof and have a picnic, isn't that what most Assassin couples do for fun?"

This was where whatever smile or playful tone she had seconds ago began to fade. It was too easy to withdraw, to close up. "I tried that, Desmond, remember? The general response was I get revenge on you." Lucy shook her head, held up a hand so she could continue in case he tried to interject. "Ezio knows. I... told him everything."

Now, if he kept his arm around her, Lucy was stepping back against it.

"Maybe we should... I'd like that drink now."

"Hey, I thought people always wanted to hear that someone loves them." He's slightly defensive, but it reveals a truth about him at the same time. Desmond wants to be loved. He doesn't know if anyone ever has loved him. His mother, probably, although not enough to raise him better or reach out when things got really shitty. He had relationships after coming to the real world, but none of them knew him enough to understand the full picture. "I'll stop mentioning it though, until you feel more comfortable." But it's there. They both know it. And he isn't ashamed of it.

Desmond rolls his eyes with a chuckle. "Knowing facts about someone doesn't mean you know them. I guarantee there's plenty Abstergo didn't know." His inner workings were his own, no matter what. She was closer to knowing how his brain worked, yeah, but there's still other things. He does know that most of it will probably be getting more information about Lucy herself. She was an enigma to him in major ways and he wanted to know more. He smiles warmly down at her, expression soft. "That sounds great."

He shakes his head. "No, I'm talking about someone who doesn't have alliances from home, no Assassins or Templars, because there's agendas, you know? There's pre-conceived notions." Even if Ezio can provide sympathy and context, and yes there is value in talking to people who understand, there still is always own opinions hanging over it. "I mean, that's what I want, I guess. That's what I want to do. Find someone unattached to the situation." Desmond releases her to go over to the drinks in question, having an opener in the kitchen in case of this sort of thing.

"Yeah in a public place like that answers were revenge, but I'm not so sure someone you feel you can talk to one-on-one would have the same reaction. Ashley, for example, was all angry about it on there, but after the shrine ...." He got them glasses and came back to offer her one. "She seemed more willing to talk about it."

Lucy waited until he returned with the drinks. She thanked him and her boots came off. As soon as she took a small sip and moved to the sofa, the puppy followed with the stick dragged along. Standing at the door and drinking wasn’t ideal to her, comfort was, and getting off of her feet.

“I think what makes me uncomfortable is that I can’t say it back.” Yet. “I don’t really know how. And it’s not exactly fair to you.”

She went quiet and looked down to watch the puppy, reaching to scratch behind his ear and along his neck. “Ashley was... Yeah, publicly she was not impressed, but we carried on privately and it turned out good. I think once some folks got the bigger picture, revenge wasn’t the number one thing in their minds. And...” Lucy paused to take another sip—liquid courage? “I explained that things were kind of extra complicated because we ah... we were sleeping together.” Though now, not so much. At least not since New Year’s.

Yeah their relationship status was complicated and they were discussing dates, but what did that make them? Were they slapping down labels? She wouldn’t, unless he was? Lucy was just assuming they were complicated and still friends, well on her end anyway.

Desmond followed her to the sofa and sat nearby, but not on top of her or anything. A reasonable amount of space while still being within hand grab if necessary. He didn't want to give too much space, so it was this constant middle ground question mark of where they stood. He raised an eyebrow at her and considered what she said, slowly nodding. "I get that, but I also don't expect it. It doesn't hurt me that you don't, I've had more time than you have, to think about us."

Unfortunately he had a lot of time to think about them after he killed her, but also reflection in general after that was useful for him to figure out who he was and who he wanted to be, just in time to die. But he was already further ahead in his feelings for her, and he knew that. Desmond was being honest. It wasn't like her lack of love for him stung or he felt disappointment. If she loved him later, it would matter then. He was wiling to wait.

"Yeah sleeping together definitely complicated things, but it's difficult to argue with sexual chemistry like ours." Desmond smiled at her, teasing. He sipped his drink, since he wasn't actually hitting on her, just mildly flirting. That was hopefully allowed. He was being careful but also not losing that spark of friendship between them either. "Ashley's a good option. I was thinking maybe Bull. I mean, we're business partners, I don't think he'll judge me." And he liked the qunari a lot. He was starting to trust him.

"So let's date. Get to know each other. Do this romance maybe a little less backward."

The first few sips had made her feel like the layers she wore were too much. Shrugging off her jacket and undoing her sweater had helped, the tank top worn under the zip up hoodie thin. She then pulled her legs up to curl them, shifting on the sofa to face him, leaning sideways into the back cushions. It showed that she was relaxing, slowly anyway, but she was expressing that she wasn't as on edge around him now, which was a step. A good step in the right direction. "And when... did you decide that you loved me?"

If they'd had this discussion on the mountain (WELP) then it hadn't been the more important thing running through her mind, at that time.

Lucy took another sip, longer, at the teasing. Flirting was safe, very safe. It was what they did, even back home. Funny to say that even in spite of the circumstances, it helped ease things for her. Maybe he knew that; he certainly knew her. "I think Bull is a good option." Then quickly adding, "Not that you need my permission. You have decent judgment, last I checked, when you weren't falling in love with the enemy." Yes, yes she'd just had to throw that little jab in. But she was smiling at the rim of her glass as she said it.

A brow raised. "Do you even know how to do romance, Desmond? And I'm not talking about having Ezio's memories and experience embedded in your genes to help you. Do you know what exactly a girl wants?" Her chin tilted up. "If I don't even know what I want then how do you suppose you know what I want?"

Desmond didn't comment on how she was clearly relaxing around him, but he was very pleased, and it showed on his face. He was not very deceptive, despite training to the contrary. He smiled at her, relaxing himself, letting the booze and her presence start to be comforting. It was still tense, but well, he always was going to be a little around her. If it wasn't tension over their issues, it was over sex, but the latter wasn't a bad one to live with. "Well if I tell you it was during sex, you'll just roll your eyes at me."

He chuckled a little and looked at the liquor and then at her. "It wasn't the sex, it was the intimacy. It was this certainty that if I had a second chance at life, I knew who I wanted to spend it with, and no one else was going to cut it." Desmond tried not to look directly at her, out of respect for not putting too much emotion on her while she was still dealing with it. "But of course I freaked the fuck out after Connor disappeared and convinced myself you were next, and I'd be all alone, so I, you know, ran like a coward. Typical Desmond Miles behavior."

Desmond raised an eyebrow right back at her. "Hey, I've dated people. I've been in relationships. I haven't only lived through Ezio." Although the majority of his sexual experiences at the moment were through Ezio. "No girl, no person , is the same, so what worked for someone else might not work for you. But I mean, that's the point of dating. You get to know the person, what they like, what they don't like." He shrugged at her. "I am a super boring guy underneath it all, you know that."

“You’re right, I would roll my eyes. No one just falls in love with someone during sex,” she laughed. “It’s not even love, it’s the happy endorphins. End of story.” Love was scary, and sometimes love was simply plain overrated. “Do you think you... maybe never gave yourself a chance, with others? Not just back home but I mean here. You could’ve picked anyone else to date, to fuck around with, to fall head over heels over. You didn’t need to stick with what was most comfortable.”

She had to remind herself that he’d had a hell of a lot more time to process his feelings than her. He’d likely thought about all of that and she had no idea. Lucy just didn’t get why he would prefer to spend that second chance at living with someone who’d led him on and fed him lies on a silver spoon. Then again she had trouble sometimes processing her own feelings on all of this.

“Yeah. Very typical. But who am I to judge? I don’t blame you for running. This place is too unpredictable. You or I, we could go any day—tomorrow, even.” Not that she wanted to think about that and yet had. More than once. It was a depressing subject, very troubling, and it was part of what was holding her back.

At his last comment, Lucy snorted and rolled her eyes, a leg stretched out to nudge him with her foot. “Puh-lease. If you’re super boring then I’m ten times more boring.” Her drink was finished off and she held out her glass for a refill, a brow arching. “Fine, you want to get to know me? My one weakness is microwave popcorn and it’s a damn shame we have neither of those things here.”

"I desire you because of the sex, I love you because of other reasons. I don't know that I can describe it in perfect words, Luce, it's a gut feeling." He can explain details he likes about her. Those are pretty up front. Desmond nodded at her question, giving it a fair response rather than denying her outright. "I did think about that, honestly. Mostly because I wasn't sure with all our baggage we could get past it." They still were trying to figure out if they could. "And there's a lot of sexy people here." A few that made it clear they'd jump into bed with. "But I'm not comfortable with you, that's not where this is coming from."

He did have more time and a whole lot of self-reflection. Finding out she was lying to him was a whole big mind fuck and pulled into question a lot of what was between them. But he had to examine his own feelings at the same time. How much of it was real? Probably not much. He still couldn't stop caring.

He poured her more booze and laughed, snagging her foot in his hands. He liked keeping some contact with her even when it was minor. "Maybe we're both boring underneath it. It doesn't have to be a bad thing." If they were left to their own lives, things would've been better for them. He smiled, pleased at her opening up even with a small thing. "I don't know, we could probably make popcorn happen over a stove, if they decide to be helpful and give it to us."

She took the booze and lifted it in a mock salute of thanks, keeping her leg stretched out and her foot in his hands, not ticklish or shy about the contact. “Try me. You have no idea the amount of times I’ve heard someone tell me they loved me and provided solid reasons to back it up.” Was that sarcasm? Eh, maybe, because he was one of the first to ever express such things. And he would be honest, he wouldn’t lie. Everything he could and would say would be earnest. She’d believe him. “What if I don’t want ‘perfect words’?”

It was real, for her, or otherwise Lucy wouldn’t be here. It was just a matter of admitting things, accepting them. Dealing with their baggage and working through everything.

“Popcorn over the stove, makes me feel like we’ve moved forward to the nineties. Not...whatever timeline we’re in now.” Her other leg stretched out to lay over his lap.

Desmond was feeling relaxed now that they got past the initial awkwardness, and she was willingly sitting near him, her feet on top of him. It was moments like these that paid his faith, honestly, made him sure that they could keep it together if they wanted to. "I guess I just think it's obvious, why I would. You're a literal genius. You're smart as a whip, funny, sassy, snarky. You make me laugh but have always been good about reminding me about the bigger picture. Even if you were lying about some things, you weren't lying about wanting to save the world." He massaged her feet, holding one heel in his palm and rubbing with the other.

"You cared about what we were doing. And even if that included fucking with my head, I don't think it changes that I respect you really cared, that you were motivated and determined. I mean, I don't know that I really cared about anything much for awhile there, outside of staying away from the Order. I was happy in my passive little life." Desmond hadn't changed his mind about wanting that for himself, honestly, but it still was true. She cared. He didn't plan on saving the world until she made him want it. "You're strong, ambitious, thoughtful, competent. There are a lot of things I like about you." And he felt like that proved more than anything else that he meant it about his feelings. He had reasons. It wasn't just gut instinct or sex. It was rational too.

“With everything you just said, I feel like it’s your way of trying to get me to slide on over onto your lap there.” Lucy smirked down into her glass, cheeks a little rosy coloured from both the alcohol and the response to what he’d laid out.

Most men had responded with the same thing as he just had—the sassiness she possessed, how funny she was and how smart she’d proven herself to be over and over. The only difference was that she’d pushed him to be, essentially, a better person in caring for the world and the outcome in everything they were doing between the Brotherhood and with Abstergo.

“Remember, what if I only cared because the Templars cared? I only thought I was doing the right thing because they believed the same thing.” But the best part about Desmond and being near him was that there weren’t any sides for either of them to pick. He didn’t seem to care about it, only her and them, being together.

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sorry for the delay!

no worries

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💁🏼

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