Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Syndicate
Word count: 2610
Summary: Jacob saves a young boy's life but ends up stumbling into more than what he intended.
Read on: AO3
The pub door swung open, a faint bell rattling above to alert the bartender of someone’s presence, and Jacob walked in, Edmund scuttling in close behind him. Inside, the air was thick and smelt of beer with a gentle wine undertone to it. Along the bar, opaque bottles were clustered together, each one with an unidentifiable liquid contained within. Jacob thought it best to avoid them. Light was barely filtering through the stained-glass windows- the light itself tainted a vague scarlet colour from the pub’s name being plastered across the window- which caused shadows to form the darkened corners. Lining one of the back walls were wooden barrels, the wood a deep burgundy. A few faces glanced up at them, while other conversations buzzed around them. No Rooks, no Blighters; Jacob has never been so thankful in his life.
Now the two boys were in a confined space together, the hand that Jacob was holding felt heavy, almost a burden that Jacob didn’t want to feel anymore. The sensation of Edmund’s palm pressed up against his own made his head spin uncontrollably. Everybody’s eyes darted to the space in between them, were their hands we interlocked, and their skin contrasted ever so slight, before giving them a second look that ran down their entire bodies. There was a grunt and whisper from a man in the corner with a newspaper. But he kept hold of Edmund’s hand and weaved them both towards the bar, where they were greeted by a disgruntled bartender with coarse hands clutching a bottle. Eyes followed them the whole way there.
“Can I help you?” He asked, slamming the bottle onto the bar and leaning forwards on his elbows.
“Two beers,” Jacob said, gesturing with his finger. A grunt came from the bartender as he eyed Edmund up, lingering in certain place, and action that made Jacob subconsciously pull Edmund closer to his own body, like a wrench latching onto a bolt. He eyed the bartender carefully as he poured their drinks from a bottle into a glass. However safe London was now that the Templar’s had been chased out, Jacob was forever wary of bartenders that reminded him of a certain someone. He repressed a shudder. The memory was rearing its ugly head again.
For a brief second, Jacob caught Edmund staring at him out the corner of his eye, and met his gaze for a moment before both boys shifted their eyes away as their drinks were handed to Jacob.
“Does Jacob Frye not pay for his drinks either?” Edmund hissed from beside Jacob, slipping his hand out of the older boys grasp and into his trouser pockets. They sat down at a table that was in full view of the bustling streets of Whitechapel. Jacob wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing.
Jacob knitted his eyebrows together “And how do you know my name?”
Edmund blushed a deep red, the confidence presented before clearly shattering. He shrugged and took a slow sip of his drink, flinching when he swallowed. The pair fell into a deafening silence, the entire pub continuing their conversations in a state of blissful ignorance towards the two boys. Outside, Jacob watched as a couple gestured wildly to each, arguing about some mundane topic, before both of them disappeared down an alley to the side of a building, both fading into the shadows out of view. Jacob sighed and directed his attention back to Edmund. He felt a hint of hope nestle itself in his heart that maybe that would happen to him one day; maybe with Edmund, maybe not with Edmund. Deep down, buried inside the darkened corners of his brain, he hoped for the former.
“Listen, Edmund, I’m more concerned about why you nearly were brutally murdered tonight. I need to know why so I can prevent occurring again, so will you please say something?” Jacob asked, resisting the urge to grab Edmund’s hand that was laid out dainty on the table.
There was a long pause before Edmund spoke “I don’t know anything. I all I know is that-” He inhaled a shaky breath “All I know is that one minute I was sightseeing and the next there was a man with a knife stood directly behind me and his breath was tickling my neck.” One of Edmund’s hands subconsciously went to his neck has he spoke. “I honestly have no idea what happened. I didn’t even notice the man walking behind me until it was too late.”
Nice try, Jacob thought, smirking softly to himself. Growing up in Crawley had allowed Jacob to learn how to survive out on the streets of London, while his sister was busy training and spying on their father. Often, Jacob would mill around in the gambling dens in the far, distant corners of the town and watch as men hurled their earnings at games that were clearly rigged against them. By the time Jacob hit is late teens, he had the back streets and alleys mapped out on the back of his hand and all the strife that came with the people that visited those parts.
“However cute and intelligent you may look Edmund, I can always tell when someone is lying to my face,” Jacob remarked, chugging down the rest of his drink “So either tell me right now, or we continue this conversation all night.”
Edmund fiddled with his ears and drummed his other hand against the glass. His attention was clearly directed elsewhere, and his eyes were averted away from Jacob’s face.
“Looks like we’re gonna be here all night,” Jacob murmured, scooping up his now empty glass and carrying it back to the bar. He felt Edmund’s eyes burning themselves into the back of his head the entire way there.
*
In hindsight, Jacob was beginning to regret ever uttering those words. Those words had led him to down several drinks throughout the night as he attempted to pry information out of the smaller boy, to the point where his intoxication- both from the alcohol and possibly something else in front of him- was quickly clouding his judgement. And his ability to string together any coherent sentence.
“Hey, did I ever tell you about that one time I…” Jacob trailed off, gesturing wildly towards Edmund. By this point during the night, Jacob was leaning haphazardly on one elbow and leaning forwards so that his nose could easily brush against Edmund’s. “that I derailed a train?”
“Yes Jacob,” Edmund sighed, edging further back in his seat “you did. You’ve been telling me it for the past hour.”
“Oh. But can I tell you it again?”
“Sure,” Edmund said, scrubbing his hands across his face so roughly he swore he felt his skin peel beneath his fingertips. Tipping his head back, he signalled to the bartender for another drink. He realised he was going to be here a while, judging by the way that Jacob was constantly retelling the same story, each time with a slightly different intensity and different emphasis. And each time Jacob told it, Edmund promised himself that it would be the last time, and that he would just get up and leave the bar instead of listening to the same droning voice over and over again. But he stayed put, and ordered a drink every time the story was retold- there was no possibility of him remaining even remotely sober throughout this ordeal.
Through the haze of liquor and fatigue, Edmund felt a faint buzz of something whenever Jacob spoke and let those caramel, but oh so annoying, words flow out of his mouth. Was it rage? Was it embarrassment? Edmund wasn’t sure. The feeling had lingered ever since he had laid eyes on Jacob, mere hours ago, and Edmund wasn’t sure if he should shake it off and hurl it out the window into the darkened street or whether he should take advantage of it, and find an empty house and back Jacob up against a wall maybe, or climb on top of him and kiss him senseless.
Edmund blinked franticly to drag himself out of his daze, only to find Jacob staring at him with an eyebrow arched.
“Nice dream?” Jacob smirked, somehow getting closer. Edmund could feel Jacob’s hot and alcohol tinted breath ghosting over his lips and it made him want to flinch way while simultaneously dragging the older boy closer.
Edmund opened his mouth to speak, but his words completely failed him, a hitched breath escaping before he could stop it. And nothing on this earth would distract him from the smirk that spread across Jacob’s face when he heard it. Edmund was beginning to notice minor details that he hadn’t even cared about before, like how Jacob’s top button on his shirt was undone, or how he had shed his coat, leaving it draped over the back of the wooden chair, so every muscle was accentuated by the white fabric that was dragged tautly over his arms. Jesus he looked good.
The slam of a glass landing on the table pulled to the two apart. A seething bartender stood towering over them, engulfing them in his shadow to the point where it sent shivers up Edmund’s spine. There was something unfamiliarly captivating about the figure enclosing him.
He heard Jacob stand up suddenly, but the sound was muffled, his eyes still trained on the bartender above him. He barely even registered Jacob fumbling to slip his coat back on and grabbing Edmund’s hand to lead him outside, where the cool, brisk night air it his face like a ton of bricks and he stumbled over a stone poking out of the ground.
Jacob wanted to make a snide remark about Edmund and his inability to do anything without falling over, but the younger boy’s face catching in the bar light stopped him. And that Jacob’s mind was currently a disorganised wasteland of emotions and beer.
So maybe that would explain what he did next. Although, Jacob was never fond of having any logical reasoning for his actions.
He pulled Edmund down an alley beside the pub, ignoring the stench of beer and mumbled words of protest and confusion coming from the younger boy. Sat on the floor, with his back flush against the stone wall, was a man mumbling religious prophecies at the them, hands failing about in the air and liquid slipping out of a cup as he did so. Jacob felt almost a hint of sympathy for the man. The rest of the alley evoked memories a time where he would run down the alley, no doubt in pursuit of a Templar or a thief. But this was different. It wasn’t slow in any way at all, but there was something tender and gingerly about it, as if it was a moment that Jacob wanted to cherish for the remainder of his life.
The alleyway lead into a large, open square, which at the time of night was sparse, give or take a few drunk stragglers from the pub and a bird perched a lamppost in the centre. A man lay sprawled out on the stone with little snores being emitted from his mouth as his drink from a bottle weaved in and out of the stone. Buildings loomed over them, copper pipes running up the back of them. The sound of laughter from the pub reverberating throughout the air; raised voices came from a bricked-up house; bottles smashing over someone’s head, a fist meeting a face a few seconds later; high pitched giggles coming from a lovestruck couple that passed by- Jacob could just about make all of it out.
Other than the light filtering through an open window in a house backing onto the square and the flickering rays from the streetlamp, the area was completely submerged in darkness. The two boys were just silhouettes echoed on the cobbled stone.
Jacob dragged Edmund into a corner which was out of view from the public. There was only a window overlooking them, but Jacob decided that no one was home or if anyone was, they wouldn’t bother look out of the window. The square was hardly the most breath-taking scenery around there by a long shot. And maybe that was the only encouragement Jacob needed.
Edmund was leaning against the wall, an amused expression on his face. His eyes trailed up and down Jacob’s body and Jacob couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same as him. A silence stretched between the both of them, their eyes communicating words that were impossible to even utter, and Jacob found himself stepping closer to Edmund, the younger boy’s breath tickling his skin.
In that moment, Edmund looked like a bloody dream. His hair was dishevelled slightly, a few stray strands sticking out and his eyes were like blue glowing orbs in the dark. There was a subtle hint of scarlet on his cheeks. Jacob reached out and cupped Edmund’s cheeks, feeling the stubble scratch against his bare hands. A slight smile tugged at the side of Edmund’s mouth as Jacob leaned in a little, and kissed him.
And, God, Jacob swore everything went numb.
He wanted Edmund to push him way. He wanted Edmund to pull away with a look of disgust painted on his face. He wanted Edmund to shout at him and draw strangers towards them. He wanted, Jesus Christ he wanted, someone to tell him that this was wrong and horrifying. But no one did. And Edmund didn’t pull away or shove Jacob’s body off him. Instead he grabbed Jacob by the collar of his coat and dragged him closer. Every single one of Jacob’s sense kicked in when his mouth met Edmund’s again- he could taste the alcohol on Edmund’s tongue that they had drank earlier and even the smell of sweat on the younger boy’s body didn’t cause either of them to falter, if anything it spurred Jacob on more.
The kiss was everything. It was a gunshot, it was feet clattering against the cobble, it was a train scratching along the tracks, it was… it was. Jacob’s thoughts faded out as suddenly as they had begun, and the sensation of Edmund’s lips took over his sense again, his mind becoming foggy and blurred.
He slipped his hand underneath Edmund’s shirt and waistcoat and gripped there skin there so tightly bruises would form in the morning. He felt Edmund hands slide over his back and bunch his shirt up into his fist, a shiver running down Jacob’s spine when Edmund’s hands found his bare skin and his featherlight finger tips brushed across the exposed area. This was wrong, so very, very wrong, Jacob told himself. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to stop.
He thought about the drunk man laying a few metres away from them, he thought of the open window above them, the thought about the footsteps of the public and how dangerous this was to do. But untangling his body from Edmund’s seemed like an impossible task. Their hands were fumbling around beneath clothes and every now and again, Edmund would release a tiny gasp from the back of his throat and rock his body into Jacob’s And Jacob savoured every second of it.
Eventually, inevitably, they broke apart even though their hands remained. Jacob stared at Edmund’s face- his cheeks had a soft pink undertone and were warm to underneath Jacob’s touch and his mouth and eyes were shining with love.
“I think,” Jacob panted “That we should continue this conversation elsewhere.”
“I sincerely agree,” Edmund murmured back, delivering a peck to Jacob’s, admittedly, scarlet lips.
