Assassin's Creed Drabbles

↳ little arguments

in which barnabas and herodotus thank the gods they did not have to intervene. 

THE ONLY REASON Alexios has not thrown you over the side of the Adrestia is that Barnabas considers you something akin to a daughter, and he'd rather not get an earful from you or the captain when he has to fish you back out of the Aegean. The two of you were always at odds —clawing at each other's throats over even the most trivial of things. Herodotus claims it's because you both fancy one another but are too stubborn to come to terms with the realization and subsequent emotions. The old captain is inclined to agree.

Barnabas can hear you and Alexios bickering from the Korinthian dock house. He and the historian exchange a knowing look and a long sigh. The crew takes it as their signal to begin preparing the trireme for departure. Stomping across the wharf, you step up onto the deck of the Adrestia, cheeks aflame with hands balled up into tight fists. Alexios trails but a few steps behind you, a similar look of irritation about him. You turn at the top stairs leading to the helm, blocking him with another harsh stare and a finger waving at him. "You are the most pompous, pigheaded, daft man I've ever met!"

He dares to smile. "Keep going," Alexios mocks with a laugh and an almost playful glint in his tawny-gold eyes, "those words were starting to hurt."

You turn to the helm, fingers curling around the railing. What you desire now is some peace, something nigh impossible to attain with Alexios around. "One more word from you–" you grit, thinking of a threat he'd be inclined to believe is a promise.

"Or what?" He interrupts, folding his arms across his chest. "What will you do?" You shove him backward, hard enough that he almost loses his balance. Alexios stares down his nose at you. You've both done this before —an argument turning to a spat. Last time, you broke his nose though you walked away with a fair share of burgeoning bruises from the scuffle. Afterward, you and Alexios were surprisingly civil toward one another, something Barnabas and Herodotus had never seen.

Barnabas steps between the two of you. He means to keep the peace. Exchanging insults is one thing, but he will not have bloodshed needlessly aboard his vessel again. "He started it!" You cry, regretting how childish it feels and sounds to pin the blame on Alexios, even if the whole ordeal had been his fault.

"As I recall, you were the one to make a scene in the market," Alexios reminds you, shaking his head. Every vendor in the agora had turned their attention on the two of you. That was after he left a trail of bodies around the temple of Aphrodite, though.

"Because we were being followed!" You snap. The more eyes watching, the less likely your pursuers would be to act. Only you seemed to have the nous to see that. A fight would've gone sour with neither you nor Alexios having a wink of sleep in three days —and on an empty stomach at that.

His brows furrow, eyes narrowing. "I told you I would handle it," he says. A handful of street thugs would've hardly been a challenge.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "I know how you handle things, Alexios," you bite back. He would rather stick his spear in someone's gut and then ask questions. His method lands the two of you in hot water more often than naught. Besides, there's already a hefty bounty on the Eagle Bearer's head that's caused more than a few troubles on the road —you both couldn't afford to have more mercenaries sniffing out your trail all over Hellas. "We would have left with thrice the bounty we already have on our heads."

"Didn't mean you had to kiss me," Alexios notes, his disgust feigned.

"It was the only way I could get you to shut up!" You tell him. Alexios claims Sokrates love the sound of his voice too much, but there are times you're certain the Eagle Bearer loves the sound of his voice, too. You'd taken his face into your hands, pulling him down with a quick tug that he didn't try to fight. His lips had been soft and rough and warm against your own when you kissed him, and after his initial shock, you had felt Alexios' lips part and move —he meant to deepen the kiss before you pulled away. "Besides," you smirk, "you didn't have to kiss me back."

Alexios feels heat rush to his cheeks. "I did not!" He refutes.

You lean toward him with a taunting smile, patting his shoulder. "We both know that's a lie," you say, lips kinking into a smirk. A hasty kiss in the Korinthian market does change that it was your quick thinking that let you and Alexios escape the streets and return to the Adrestia without running into or starting another conflict. "A simple 'thank you' would be enough." You tilt your chin up, waiting to hear his reluctant gratitude.

He steps closer, fingers wrapping around your wrist. His façade of irritation cracking. "If I kiss you, will it make you shut up?" Alexios asks, one brow raised. A poor excuse for the chance to have your lips against his again.

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head, hoping the setting sun will hide the heat rising to your cheeks. "No!" You pull your hand from his, turning back to see the docks of Korinth growing smaller in the distance. "It will not because I am never kissing­–" the words die on the tip of your tongue when his lips brush over yours. You part your lips, feeling him wash over like a wave of warmth as his frame leans into yours and his arms settle at the curve of your back to press you closer.

One hand curls into his chiton, the other settles at the base of his neck —both drawing him further into the kiss. He groans softly, low in his throat. Every insincere quarrel comes rushing back, all of them a guise to avoid what lay beneath a shallow and false layer of animosity. Alexios pulls back, resting his forehead on yours. The back of his fingers brushing over your cheek. "Can we stop arguing now?" He asks, breathless and smiling.

"I don't think so," you note, lips curving into a smile, "it's too much fun." Alexios laughs. "I'm not taking back what I said either." He could be pompous, pigheaded, and daft sometimes, but you wouldn't have him any other way.

He rolls his eyes. "Of course not." You push up on your toes, and Alexios bends down, meeting your lips halfway. Barnabas and Herodotus glance at each other, smiling —gladdened to know you'd both come to terms before they, or even the gods, would have to intervene.