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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.

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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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