whoa, whoa, whoa—hold up. hold up. if anyone was the cobra in this relationship, it was gonna be him. abruptly, a dark brow arched in the blond’s direction, the easy-going smile that had once been dancing across the younger’s face quickly turning into something that mirrored clay’s smirk, a quiet little ‘snrk’ escaping him despite…well, honestly, there were no attempts to muffle that noise. “guess I should start calling you white snake during our missions then, huh?” he teased, shrugging his shoulders a little bit, as though this conversation was entirely innocent. 

                “fine. you can be a little cobra. I’ll be the anaconda. it’s only logical—like you said, you’re older than me. and things do tend to shrink when people get older.” did he feel a little smug after that response? no, not at all; he felt entirely smug. as before, though, the words were uttered in simple jest—something that he made clear when he took a moment to press a kiss to the corner of clay’s mouth, a quiet laughter rumbling through him. 

Oh that smarmy little-

Clay’s lips turned down into a frown, the kiss barely registering. If there was anything wrong with his processor of a brain, it was the amount of time it took him to generate a comebacks. He pouted down at Desmond, knowing that it wouldn’t take long for the younger assassin to start feeling bad for saying something like that. After all he was only… 30? 31? And truth be told, his body was a little deteriorated… Whatever had brought him back brought him back in the condition that he was in when he’d…

"Well," he muttered almost indignantly. "You just have so much to look forward to."

So maybe making Desmond feel bad wasn’t the best, nicest tactic, but it was bound to work. It usually worked, anyway. At least… Clay thought so.


i want to kiss you and take cute pictures with you and go on stupid dates but I also want tO DESTRYO YOU AT MAR IO KART


                a smile once again curved scarred, chapped lips, a chuckle quick to shake the younger’s shoulders. it was funny, really, how good clay was at getting him to relax, at getting him to forget the absolute shit that they all had to deal with. they’d both been through (and done) some really fucked up shit, but in the moments where they could joke and laugh—well, it really didn’t matter then. "hey, we’ve already established that I’m constipated batman," the younger argued, "it only makes sense for you to be laxatives robin. looking out for my every need, armed with bananas and protein. the true hero of the story. my hero." 

                it was absolutely ridiculous, and that was exactly why the younger was having a hard time keeping an even remotely straight face. "y’know, people are actually scared of rattlesnakes. you just gave me the power to be a legitimate fear for people. thank you for that." cue a smirk; he really was having too much fun with this, and seeing the blond in his lap relax was…a good feeling, in all honesty. "you can be a garden gnome. they’re just as scary." 

"You’re younger than me," Clay pointed out, letting out a little snort of a laugh, looking down at Desmond with a lopsided smile on his face. "Not to mention I, you know, paved the way to your success." Clay’s tone was laced with a false pomposity, but it was nothing short of a joke. They had both played their equal share of dangerous games, and the blond would have been the first to tell that to anyone who doubted it.

Clay’s lopsided smile turned into a smirk in response to Desmond’s. “And clearly, if you’re just a little rattle snake, I’m going to have to be some sort of cobra, really, it’s only logical.”


Request for punk-the-punk


Request for punk-the-punk


                for a brief moment, scarred lips curve into a smile that is gentler before—something that’s open, even honest. affection had never been something that had been present in his home life; hands had been used for fighting, and words had been used as weapons in an attempt to “toughen up” someone. it was no surprise than the younger had been so quick to take to affection. 

                “if you kill me, you’re going to rob the Templars of all their fun and be bored,” he muttered, fingers still playing with the other’s hair, “and what fun is that? you can’t have a robin without a constipated batman,” it was a joke, really, punctuated by a soft laugh. "I know. I take great pride out of being able to do so, what with my charming personality and all."

Clay could have purred, but he kept the sensation to himself, giving in instead to nuzzle against Desmond’s palm. Both of them had been dealt rough hands in life, but that only made this so much better for Clay. How gentle both of them could be together, especially knowing where they had come from. The things that they had both done.

"I’ve robbed Templars before," the blond gave a light chuckle, his careful attentiveness faltering for a moment as his eyelids drooped slightly. "And I’d be happy to do it again if you’re insinuating that I’m Robin, of course.” Clay gave Desmond a light smile, eyes crinkling up ever so slightly. “But that’s only because you have the charming personality of a rattle snake, of course.” He joked lightly, sticking the edge of his tongue out at the younger man. 


                y’know, it wasn’t so bad—being out of erasers. especially if being out of erasers meant this. briefly, desmond’s expression softened, warmth showing in his gaze; he hadn’t known just how much he’d missed this until just now. arms automatically wrapping around the blond, he gave a quiet sigh, fingers tracing up and down clay’s back with a sense of familiarity. 

                he wouldn’t admit it (just yet), but this was what he’d missed the most when he was away. "holy shit, could you imagine what it would be like if we were both broody and moody around here? everyone else would probably want to kill us," desmond mused with a soft ‘snrk’ of a noise. "file that under "possible plans for revenge," we might need it in the future."

                it was hard to banter and joke with the blond in his lap, though. unable to stop himself, desmond found himself threading his fingers through clay’s hair, his touch gentle—

                —it really had been a long time since they’d been able to do something like this.

A warm tingle spread from the tips of Desmond’s fingers across Clay’s back, a reminder that everything either of them had done hadn’t been for nothing. A tender, happy feeling that Clay was glad he could experience. Everything about this was familiar and natural down to the tickled shiver that passed down his back, following Desmond’s fingers. 

"I think might want to kill us if that ever happened,” Clay laughed softly resisting the urge to nuzzle against the other assassin’s neck. It was harder to resist, though, once he felt fingers running through his hair. he let out a sigh of content. “You’re distracting me.”


                —hah, he’d liked that pun. and he was fairly certain that it was entirely unintentional, though he could never tell with clay; that was part of the beauty of it, though. lips curling into a smile now, a soft ‘snrk’ of a noise was offered to the blond, before he offered an almost nonchalant shrug—as if he was entirely innocent in this whole ordeal. 

                “what’s sad is the fact that you almost seem surprised by this,” desmond managed, eyeing the advancing blond and desperately scrambling for more eraser bits, "I thought you knew me well enough to at least somewhat predict this." it was rare that he was in this good of a mood, though, he’d grant that small fact. 

                “you’d hate it if I acted all moody and broody like batman.” shit, out of erasers.

As Clay dodged his way forward, he offered a returning scoff, rolling his eyes at the other. “Oh no, not surprised,” he muttered through the barrage, trying to keep concentration on not being hit, as if the erasers were dangerous to his person. “Pretty pleased, actually.”

With the volley of over, and still a few feet from Desmond, Clay was free to slide smoothly and easily into the other assassin’s lap, a gesture he had missed more than he let on as he slid his arms around Desmond’s neck. 

"I would," he confirmed the other’s last sentiment, acting as if nothing had happened and his position with his knees wrapped precariously around the other’s waist was completely normal. "It’s my job to act "moody and broody like Batman" as you so eloquently put it."


                success flickered within the younger as he listened to the blond’s admittance, and for just a moment, a rather smug smirk crossed his features, amusement in the simple gesture. "thank you. that’s all I was looking for," he jested with another chuckle; clay’s seemingly good mood was contagious. 

                at least, it was until he heard what else the blond had to say. staring at the other for just a moment, a sort of offended sound escaped desmond, before he leant over and proceeded to pick up and chuck the erasers that had been sitting on the desk at the blond. "good thing my utility belt was close by, I seem to have suddenly encountered a villain! today I will defeat mr. laxatives!" 

For a very brief moment, Clay allowed himself a smile, until he was called Mr. Laxatives.

Still, the blond was glad that he had retained some of his field training skills, as he dodged the first eraser thrown at him, rolling his eyes. “You’ve gotta be shitting me-” he shot back, the pun lost in a slightly annoyed huff. Following erasers her smacked aside, but Clay made sure he never hit one back at Desmond.

"We’re finally back together again and you’re gonna be this much of a dork?" he asked, giving Desmond as short laugh as he advanced forward through the eraser attack. "I can’t believe you."


                he’d gotten exactly what he’d wanted: clay to laugh. feeling rather smug over this success, the other simply offered a shrug, a smirk of his own briefly crossing his expression. “what a welcome home greeting. really, I’m feeling the whole “I missed you and your marvelous sense of humor and your incredibly kissable lips and body” thing here.”

                “it wasn’t just a nice try, kaczmarek. it was a successful try.”

Another scoff. Clay rolled his eyes, unable to keep a straight face for very long around Desmond. “Fine, fine, alright,” The blond relented, heaving a great, theatrical sigh. “I miss your stupid face.” 

Clay grinned mischievously, totally prepared for the punch that was going to come his way. “Congratulations on your constipated Batman look. You’ve really got it goin’ for you, Miles.”


                …despite himself, he can’t help but give an actual smile now—damn it, Clay. there went his attempt at looking stoic and broody.


                “fuck you. I was going for a constipated batman look. dark and brooding is supposed to be sexy.”

"Constipated batman-" Clay shook his head, holding back a laugh and looking up in disappointment. "Those are the words that anyone wants to hear from the mouth they kiss." 

Still, the blond managed to break through and laugh, his lips twirling up in a smirk. “Nice try, Miles.”