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Malik’s instructions were clear. Find the Templar, kill it, and return with proof. Malik always had a way of saying things like it was easy, but you knew very well that finding and killing a Templar wasn’t that easy. At least, not by your own.
But you did either way. You found him and now you were thinking about the second step in the Malik’s Wonderful Guide of How to Assassinate and Live to Tell It. (Maybe you needed to stop passing so much time with Altaïr when he is on his mocking-my husband-mode).
You got close to the ledge of the rooftop you were in and crouched to have a better view. The Templar didn’t had bodyguards, which was both an advantage and a disadvantage, and was currently inside a night club. The tipo is an important figure (what Templar wasn’t?) and a very good friend of Connor’s dad, so the death had to be clean and perfect.
“The club offers a good cover, even though I think my clothes will give it away”, you say to yourself, a habit you have since little. You were about to move your hand to one of your pockets to get your night vision binoculars, when you felt your phone ringing.
“Jesucristo”, you frown and touch all your pockets trying to find the fricking thing. When you finally do, you see is Arno calling. You roll your eyes before answering. “Man, I’m busy”.
“I know, mon amour”, he answers, like he didn’t knew how much you hated to be interrupted when you were ‘working’. “I just wanted to know if you could bring a bottle of wine when you are on your way”, he says in a very calming voice, even if you imagine him having a little trouble in the kitchen because he is in dinner duty today.
“You could had texted that, Dorian”, he chuckles, something that makes you smirk, even if you are trying to say to yourself that is not time nor place to smile.
“Yes, but I wanted to listen to your voice”, you roll your eyes, even if you have a huge grin in your face. You sometimes hated how he could say something so cliché and still make you smile like an idiot.
“You can hear it when I’m back home. Just give me a few hours and I will be back to eat whatever you are preparing”.
“Is a soup”, you were about to complain, when he interrupts you again. “I know you don’t like soup, but this is a French soup and believe me, there is nothing better than it”.
“I’ll be the judge of that”, he chuckles again, and you swear you can hear him cutting vegetables or whatever he was putting in the dish.
“Either way, how is the mission going?”
“The tipo is in a night club right now. I’m finding ways to enter, but I’m confident the kill will go good and make Malik and Altaïr proud”, you explain, still watching said night club and hearing the disco music they were playing inside.
“Alright, good luck with it, then”.
“Thanks, but I don’t believe in such thing”, Arno chuckles again and you swear he rolled his eyes. “Also, please, don’t burn the soup”.
“I’m offended. When did I had burn something?”, before you can say answer with a ‘always’, he speaks again. “You know what? Don’t answer it”, you both giggle like total idiots.
You still don’t know what you did to have someone like Arno as your partner in life, really, but you are glad that he is, even if he gets depressed and sad suddenly, or his nightmares don’t let him sleep. For you he is still the most important thing in your life, your rock, your home.
You talk a little more, until you feel that is time to hang up because you need to get the mission done. He agrees and you hear him hiss a little before saying that he is okay, even if you know he burn himself with something again.
“I’m going to do dinner next time”.
“I agree”, he responds.
“I got to go. See you later”.
“Alright. Be safe, mon amour. And don’t forget the wine”, you roll your eyes.
“You and the wine. You should had married him instead”, he chuckles.
“No, thanks, you are better because you feel like home. He is more like a friend in hard and good times”, you smile, like a fucking teen, like you always do when he says cliché things like that.
Eventually you hang up and get into action. The killing is successful, the dude didn’t saw what hit him and you get out with the rest of the crowd like nothing ever happened. You even call Malik to tell him and he makes you go to the Bureau to bring his ‘proof’.
But on your way home, you buy a bottle of the wine that you know Arno likes and when you finally smell the soup he is made and hear him greet you from the kitchen, you are relieved. Relieved of arriving home, of having him with you.