“The tests are tomorrow.”

“Come again?”

“The tests, Altair, the tests. Please tell me you studied for them.”

“Still not quite following you, Miraj.”

“Dear Lord. The written theory tests we have to take as well as the physical trials to become a fully fledged assassin…” Miraj cocked an auburn eyebrow. “Ringing any bells?” he enquired in a mocking sing-song voice, unable to mask his cruel joy at seeing Altair fall to pieces over a simple examination.

The light haired teenager watched gleefully as Altair’s expression went into freefall from his trademark utter indifference to absolute panic. His hands flew to his hair and his fingers tangled up in the strands and pulled as the full extent of Miraj’s revelation hit home. “Oh, shit!” the top assassin exclaimed in horror. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, I completely forgot!”

Miraj snorted. “No kidding.”

“How did I forget?!”

“Because you’ve been sneaking off to Damascus, visiting brothels.”

“How?!” Altair continued to wail, completely oblivious of Miraj’s sharp, yet unfortunately true, statement.

“…because you’ve been sneaking off to Damascus, visiting brothels?” repeated Miraj dryly.

“What am I going to do?!” hissed Altair, voice quavering in terror and eyes wide. “I’m useless with examinations: my mind just goes completely blank and I end up stuttering, rambling about the air velocity of swallows or flirting with the examiner in a desperate attempt to get top marks!”

“...I… I really didn’t need to know that,” Miraj said slowly, throwing a wary glance over his shoulder at the flustered teenager. “And I’m scared to enquire any further, so let’s pretend this conversation never happened. But know that in my mind, I will forever refer to you as Altair Ibn La-Ahad: Whore Scum of the Earth.”

“I’m fine with that,” said Altair in an offhand fashion, pacing around the courtyard they were in and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He was, no doubt, thinking of another cunning plan to schmooze up to the master assassins who were proctoring the examinations: Miraj rolled his eyes. So much for raw talent and hard work. “I’ve had worse nicknames.”

“Again, I won’t ask.”

“You don’t want to know what this lady called me in that brothel last night. Sugar something or other.”

“My imagination’s running wild…” sighed Miraj, resisting the urge to just sink his face into his hands and ignore the teenage assassin until he went off to infuriate someone else.

Altair allowed himself a grin, despite the situation. “With the clothes she was wearing…? Imagination wasn’t an issue.”

“Yes, but, back on subject, I thought you had something more important to think about than your cock?” Miraj prodded, tactlessly as ever.

Altair blinked. “There’s something more important than that?!” The top novice exclaimed. He sounded genuinely shocked: Miraj should have been surprised, but, sadly, he had known Altair for more than two years. This kind of thing was all too frequent.

“Something like your whole future in the Brotherhood?”

“Ah.” Altair said eloquently, and then added rather despondently, “Shit.”

“Precisely.” Miraj was clearly enjoying this a great deal, judging by the smirk stretching his features.

The eighteen year old began wringing his hands as he paced in circles around a hapless Miraj. “Can’t I just copy the answers off of you? We’re friends, right?” he asked beseechingly, eyes wide and hopeful. Desperate times, desperate measures, he thought. “Please, Miraj? Please? Please?”

“Get lost.”

“But…” Altair tried to cut in, looking alarmed.

“No buts! No means no!” yelled Miraj, incensed at being dragged into one of Altair’s infamous attempts at playing people like pawns on a chessboard. “Go bother someone else with the answers; someone who has actually studied, someone you know well and someone who won’t think about eviscerating you when you try to go all doe-eyed!”

Altair stared at him with his unsettling cold granite-grey eyes for a long while. Miraj could almost see the cogs working in his brain as he tried to remember someone who fit all the necessary criteria. Then his face lit up, he snapped his fingers and exclaimed happily, “Malik!”

Miraj started to applaud sarcastically. “Way to remember him, Altair, he must be truly honoured to be considered one of your ‘friends’.” When Altair curled his lip in protest, the auburn assassin exhaled sharply in derision. “Oh, come now, you don’t really think of him as a friend at all, do you? You just use him when it’s convenient and then toss him aside. He has feelings too, jerk, and he’s still just a kid himself.”

“That isn’t true,” began Altair uncertainly, shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Yes, it is, and Altair, just as a general thing, I hardly think Kadar will take too kindly to have his little brother exploited like that, especially from the likes of you.”

Altair grimaced. “Look, fine, fine, I promise that I’ll try to stop being an ass to him, now will you please just help me out here? Just tell me where to find Malik, how to get on his good side or whatever. By any means necessary. I need to ace this exam if I want to be at the top again.”

Miraj cocked an eyebrow. “Truly a noble cause.”

“I cannot help wanting to be the best,” huffed Altair.

“Can’t you help being a conceited, selfish dick to everyone?”

“That… that I can’t help,” sighed Altair with theatrically exaggerated woe.

“Give me some incentive to dish out some information then,” Miraj gave in, heaving a long suffering sigh, head propped up with his hand. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“I can make sure that you won’t be bothered by the Twins for the remainder of the week,” promised Altair, already thinking of various ways to get rid of Ra’d and Sa’id. Tying them up and dangling them from the rafters of the Leap of Faith training building sounded promising, as well as dropping them down the village well in Masayf.

“Done,” Miraj snapped instantaneously, head jerking up. The Twins were obsessed with him, hanging on his every word and thing he did, and more often than not, his sash. The teenage identical twins followed him around like ducklings. Everyone else found it quite endearing. Miraj found it exasperating. “Malik has a weakness, but it’s difficult to exploit.”

“Oh, but I do so love a challenge,” smirked Altair.

Miraj shrugged. “You asked for it. He turns to putty in your hands and will do anything or answer anything if you catch him unawares and kiss him. That, or parade around shirtless. But you do that anyway, so he’s probably used to that. Poor thing must be scarred for life.”

Altair stared in disbelief. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“I wish. His IQ drops like a stone if anything remotely romantic or sexual happens. It’s adorable. He gets all weak at the knees and doe-eyed and can’t string two words together. And the best part?” Miraj dropped his voice almost conspiratorially. “He doesn’t remember a single thing afterwards.”

“And you’re accusing me of taking advantage of him?!” exclaimed Altair incredulously, taking a step backwards. “You’re stringing him along for no apparent reason. What happened to ‘oh, don’t take advantage of him’ and ‘don’t let Kadar find out you’re exploiting his little brother’?”

Miraj smiled guiltily. “I was in the same situation as you a while back?” he offered sheepishly. “It happened once!” he shouted defensively. “And anyway, you want to pass this test, yes?” Altair nodded fervently. “Well, it’s not going to happen if you go around pretending to be all chivalrous and end up flirting with Al Mualim just so you can be promoted to assassin.”

Silence.

“…I feel slightly ill.” Altair stated simply.

“Then go whisk Malik off his feet or something,” Miraj ordered lazily, rocking back on the stone bench and putting his feet up.

“How the mighty have fallen…”

“Just have fun.”

“Hypocrite!” barked Altair as he strode off towards Malik’s favourite haunt, the brotherhood’s library.

“Whore!”

“Thank you!”

_________________________


A pair of hazel gold eyes glared accusingly at Altair through mountains of books, manuscripts and other assorted paraphernalia. “There are only three reasons why you’re here, Altair: to beat me up, to flirt unnecessarily with me or an inventive combination of the former two options.”

Altair laughed hesitantly, looking guiltily over his shoulder to see if there was anyone present in the alcoves of the library. Predictably, there was no one save Malik. “Ever the suspicious one. I’m just here to talk.”

“No, thanks.”

“Why not?”

“You’re not allowed to talk in a library.”

Altair bared his teeth. “You’re so insufferable.”

Malik smiled at him, while rocking back on his chair and balancing precariously on its two wooden legs. “I learnt from the best.”

“Who’s that?”

“You.”

Determined not to let the younger teenager win in terms of wit before even a minute had passed, Altair doggedly pressed on. “Where’s Kadar?”

The brunette shrugged in a non-committal fashion. “My brother’s out on a mission in Acre for a fortnight: he’s probably hunting for souvenirs instead of hunting for his target though. Why do you ask?”

“Eh, no reason,” Altair said evasively, rifling through the many books piled up on Malik’s desk, picking a few up and peering at the titles. His eyebrow seemed to rise on its own accord. “Battle tactics in Arabic, philosophy in Latin, advanced mathematics, biology and human anatomy, geography…” He looked up and stared at the younger novice. “I’m sensing a pattern here. Genius with his head up his ass.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot you read at a three year old level,” quipped Malik, crossing his arms haughtily.

“Ouch. Low blow.”

“You deserved it.”

“It just seems a little, you know, too advanced for you.” Altair grinned inwardly. He knew Malik well enough that he would rise instantaneously to the bait, like he always did. He might not have been as cocky as Altair, but he was terribly sensitive about his above-average intelligence and would always hasten to put someone in their place or bombard people with his superior intellect until they yielded.

True to form, Malik bristled, figurative hackles rising. “What do you mean? I’m perfectly capable of studying at your level! Just because I’m two years younger than you doesn’t mean I can’t keep up with you intellectually.” He averted his face, smirking and lowering his voice, but making it intentionally clear enough for the older novice to hear. “Not that it’s difficult to keep up with you, Altair, let alone surpass you.”

“Want to say that again?” glowered Altair, taking a few steps towards him.

“Gladly.” Malik replied sarcastically, redirecting his attention to the opened book on his desk. “I’ll even say it slowly so you can keep up.”

“Malik, you’re such an unbearable little know it all.” When he lifted his head, Malik felt his stomach do little somersaults as Altair came a little too close for comfort. He recognised that sly, seductive look from several different occasions beforehand and instinctively swallowed, inching away. When he felt Altair’s warm breath against his skin, alarm bells started ringing raucously in his head. “And I like it.”

Malik raised his eyebrows. “Altair, I don’t- mmph!”

Altair kissed him as abruptly as Malik’s hands flew up to grip him by the shoulders to push him away. Even before a few seconds had passed, the kiss had deepened and Malik lost control of his arms and dimly felt them fall uselessly to his sides. He tried to kick out at Altair, who was now pinning him to the chair, but even his legs betrayed him, with deadening nerves. The only thing stopping him from sliding off the chair into happy, nerveless oblivion was Altair and his victorious smirk.

“What was that, Malik?” he taunted. “Were you going to say something?”

Malik took a deep breath, with a weak, admonishing finger raised as if to scold Altair for his actions . “You… are… incorra… uncorri… incredi…” The brunette paused, closed his eyes briefly and tried to make his head stop swimming. “…hopeless. Yes.”

Altair rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Damn, you can still string words together. Alright, let’s try this again.”

“No, wait, I—!” Malik had to swallow his words and his pride as Altair kissed him again, fingernails digging into the skin on the nape of his neck, palms brushing his jaw. Blood was beating underneath his skin, in apparent protest at this immodesty. All coherent thought and logical reasoning seemed to dribble out of his ears as he seemed to happily throw in the metaphorical towel and make the most of a rare situation.

When Altair broke away, he had to snort with amusement as Malik seemed to flop bonelessly onto him, limbs like water and with slightly crossed, unfocused eyes. “Malik-nazir?” He snapped his fingers underneath his nose, grimacing. “You alright? Say something. Try your usual intelligent repertoire of insults.”

Malik seemed to be chuckling into Altair’s robes, shoulders heaving from foggy hysteria and fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. “M’fine… stop bein’… stupid…” He giggled.

Altair raised an eyebrow. “You’re completely gone, aren’t you? You’re dropping consonants on the end of your words and mangling the English language and everything. Fantastic.” He gripped Malik by his shoulders, heaved him upright, so the brunette teenager smiled pleasantly at him, brown eyes even dreamier than usual and stared sternly at him. “Now tell me all the answers to tomorrow’s examination.”

“…you have really pretty eyes…” sighed Malik, head drooping slightly.

Altair blinked. “God damn it, do I have to kiss you again?!” He paused, shaking his head at himself. “Whoa, why does that sound so threatening all of a sudden?”

“…you’re so… loud…” whined the brunette.  “We’re in a liar-berry…” He pressed his index finger against his lips, smiling around the digit. “So ssh, Alty.”

Altair made a mental note to blackmail Malik with his mispronunciation of the word ‘library’ and his sudden affection for his nickname when they were children for the rest of the month. He decided to play along with Malik’s impromptu game and sighed, suffering himself to stifling his voice. “Alright,” he muttered. “I’ll be quiet. Now can you tell me the answers?”

“S’all pretty easy.” Malik whispered, rocking forward on his chair. “Answers are mostly in that book over there on the left, and if not…” He began reeling off lists and lists of answers, mostly slurred together as if he was tipsy, but mostly understandable: he went on for so long that Altair almost forcibly shut his mouth out of sheer concern that Malik was going to run out of oxygen. “An’ thassit.”

Altair snorted. “Thassit?”

Malik nodded solemnly. “Thassit.”

“Great. Thank you.” Altair made to stand up, snatching a few of the books from the desk and tucking them under his arm. When Malik mumbled a drowsy ‘y’welcome’ in reply, he felt a little pang of guilt for taking advantage of the younger novice, so – after throwing a quick glance over his shoulder – quickly dipped down and gave him another kiss, to ease his guilty conscience.

He expected Malik to melt even more, and melt he did, completely falling obliviously under Altair’s spell.

What Altair didn’t expect was Kadar waltzing into the library, grinning and with armfuls of gifts from Acre.

“As-salam alaykum!” greeted Kadar cheerfully, manoeuvring his way around the library with some difficulty and shimmying into the alcove where the two novices were… entangled. “How are you, Malik? Hope you missed me. I brought some souvenirs— HOLY MOTHER OF GOD IN HEAVEN AND JESUS CHRIST ON A CRUTCH, ALTAIR, GET YOUR TONGUE OUT OF MY BROTHER’S MOUTH RIGHT THIS INSTANT.”

It wasn’t surprising that when results day rolled around, both novices were tied first place with top marks; though, Altair had to fume in silence after being beaten around the head forcefully and at length with Kadar’s tacky souvenirs.

Thankfully, Malik didn’t remember a thing.