#I'm sorry Callum Lynch and Aguilar de Nerha are not part of this

[jacob-mydear]

Happy Birthday, Monsieur Dorian

Summary: It’s the birthday of a certain Arno Dorian, and his friends and colleagues, the Assassins and Templars of Casa Assassino, are preparing to surprise him with a birthday celebration. And when Templars and Assassins work together to pursue a common goal, they do it surprisingly well ... [Modern Day AU fanfic; Assassins & Templars as housemates]

Length: 1,881 words

“I don’t see why you need me around,” Arno remarked. “You’ve never taken me shopping before.”

Jacob shrugged, smiled in what he hoped was an innocent way, and wrapped his arm loosely around Arno’s shoulders. “Well, I thought I could use a second opinion,” he said lightly, “and whose better opinion on cooking appliances than yours, Frenchie?”

Arno shrugged out of Jacob’s embrace and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Alright, Anglais. I know you’re up to something, but I don’t want to imagine how upset your sister would be if you ended up bringing home cheap cookware. Lead the way.”

Jacob and Arno weaved their way through crowds of shoppers. It was a Saturday afternoon, and the streets teemed with the weekend shopping crowd, enjoying the fair weather. Families walked by with babies in prams, couples holding hands languidly strolled by, and children ran past the two gentlemen who were making their way to a cooking ware shop.

“I still think we should have gone to IKEA,” Jacob muttered under his breath, but Arno overheard and shook his head.

“Non non, you don’t want anything from there,” he said, with a mild tone of disapproval. He walked through the shop, scanning the shelves, until he spotted what he was looking for. “Let’s start with a good cast-iron pan. They’re very versatile, and can last you ages.”

As Arno and Jacob looked over a selection of cast-iron pans (Jacob nearly doubling over at the sight of their price), Altaïr watched them carefully from a safe distance.

“They are preoccupied,” the older Assassin reported under his breath into a concealed mouthpiece. “You have an hour, my friends.”

Back at the shared house, Ezio nodded. “Bene, Altaïr,” he said into a matching mouthpiece. “Grazie.”

He turned to the team he’d gathered in the kitchen. “So, we have about an hour before they return. Are we ready?”

Evie, Élise, Shay and Connor – decked in matching white aprons – nodded in solemn affirmation. Arrayed on the kitchen counters were a vast array of ingredients: Red strawberries fresh from the farmer’s market sat amongst leafy greens, bushels of potatoes and peppers, and raw slabs of marbled steak sat in glass trays.

Edward popped his head in from the kitchen window. “The grill is hot!” he called out from the yard outside.

“Good,” Ezio said, grinning, hands at his waist. He reached out for a whisk. “Then let’s begin!”

“Remember, he likes his steak medium rare,” Élise reminded, as she handed Edward the slabs of meat through the kitchen window.

“Your man is a true gourmand,” Edward remarked, giving Élise a wink.

She gave a small laugh in reply. “I think the term you’re looking for is gourmet, Monsieur Kenway, but I suppose I can agree with you: Arno certainly enjoys his food.”

Edward’s smile grew broader. “Ah, I never had a talent for learning French. Unless it was to read the labels on wine bottles – aye, that’s the most I could do.”

“Father, stop flirting with my colleague,” Haytham called from where he was standing next to the grill they had set up outside. “We don’t have much time.”

“Fifty minutes!” Ezio reminded them, metal bowl and whisk in hand, whipping egg whites into stiff peaks.

“Yes, chef,” everyone in the kitchen replied in unison.

“I hope Jacob’s alright,” Evie said, with tears in her eyes. Anyone would have thought they were tears of worry for her brother, if not for the fact she was rapidly chopping onions with practiced ease. Beside her, Shay chuckled.

“We sent the right man for the job,” he reassured her. “If there’s anyone who’s the best at causing a diversion, it’s your brother.”

From where he was peeling potatoes, Connor nodded in agreement. “The other day, I followed Jacob to look for new sports shoes. But by the end of the day, I found myself with several hoodies, a gym membership, two hundred dollars’ worth in video games, and a Nerf gun. And no shoes.”

“You should restrain him,” Evie sighed, knowing that she was the only semblance of impulse control Jacob ever had. But she couldn’t help but agree – if there was an expert at wasting people’s time (and buying time for others), it was her brother.

“Better that Jacob help us keep Arno occupied,” Connor remarked, “than here helping us in the kitchen.” Shay and Evie shuddered, remembering the last time they let Jacob handle the cooking. The smell of burning lingered for weeks.

The kitchen soon came alive with clatter of cooking utensils, the sound of sizzling butter, the smell of things simmering and baking, and bright voices calling out instructions as all a manner of dishes were being prepared for what was looking like a feast.

“Blue is his favourite colour.”

Desmond exchanged a look with Aveline, raising an eyebrow. “You think so?”

Aveline shrugged, matching Desmond’s look of skepticism. “Well. He’s always wearing blue – I’m just assuming so.”

The both of them looked over a selection of finely-crafted satchels, bags and carrying cases in front of them. They came in a variety of shapes, sizes, and styles – but Aveline called for a few to be brought to them, and examined them closely.

“We should get this one in black,” she decided, holding up a sleek, smart-looking briefcase. After a moment, she added, “And we’ll take the matching monogrammed scarf, too.”

“That’s not going to cost too much, is it?” Desmond asked, worriedly thinking about how much he had left on his credit card before it maxed out. Aveline gave him a sweet, knowing smile.

“T'inquiète pas,” she assured him. “I’m a VIP member here. They’re very nice to me; they’ll throw in the scarf for free.”

Desmond stared at her in a mixture of disbelief and admiration. “Wait, wait, wait. Aveline ... how often do you have to shop at Louis Vuitton for you to qualify for VIP status?”

“Often enough,” Aveline replied airily, avoiding Desmond’s gaze – although Desmond was swiftly beginning to get a distinct insight into her spending habits, and her taste for high fashion.

“You certainly took a while,” Arno muttered in increasing irritation as his companion finally exited the gelato shop.

“Oh, come on, Frenchie, I wasn’t that long,” Jacob cajoled. “Want a taste of my gelato?”

“You spent twenty minutes choosing a flavor, and nearly ten minutes flirting with the server,” Arno murmured, glancing shortly at his pocket-watch. He sighed. “Let’s head back, Jacob. It’s late, Élise has not answered any of my phone calls, and I promised your sister you would be home for dinner.”

“Ah, of course,” Jacob said. He threw a quick glance towards where Altaïr was watching from across the street. “Shall we grab a coffee first?”

“There’s coffee at home.”

Jacob knew from Arno’s terse replies that there was no more stalling him. He saw Altaïr nod from the distance, and the two made their way to the subway.

“They’re on the move,” Altaïr reported discreetly into his mouthpiece, and listening for an affirmative before, he too, made his way home – albeit by a different, faster route via the city rooftops.

It was dark by the time Jacob and Arno reached Casa Assassino. Suspiciously, the entire home was in darkness – not a single light came from the windows, and it was strangely silent, although there were no signs that anyone had left: Connor’s bike and Ezio’s Alfa Romeo were still in the driveway, and Evie’s smart and practical Tesla was parked across the street.

Instantly, Arno became suspicious. “Something doesn’t feel right here, Frye,” he remarked to Jacob, who was casually walking up to the porch. “Let me just have a quick look in Eagle Vi —”

“Don’t use your Eagle Vision!” Jacob said hurriedly, meeting Arno’s increasingly skeptical expression. “I’m sure everything’s fine, Frenchie. Come on. You’re being paranoid.”

Arno gave him a skeptical look, thoroughly unconvinced. “Right. And I suppose you’re going to tell me all the lights of our house are mysteriously turned off because it’s Earth Hour.”

“That’s precisely what I was going to tell you!” Jacob said with a broad grin, unlocking the door and swinging the door open.

For a tense moment, nothing happened. The living room inside was dark, and only the ghostly shapes of furniture illuminated by the faint streetlights were discernible. Suddenly, there was the briefest ‘click’ of a switch being flipped, and the room flooded with light.

“SURPRISE!” cried the Assassins (and the few stray Templars), as they leapt out from behind the sofas, from inside cupboards, and, in Connor’s case, from behind a curtain because he was too big to fit anywhere else. Arno regarded his friends in absolute disbelief as he was suddenly showered in confetti.

“Joyeux anniversaire, Arno,” Élise said warmly, as she approached him to lay a soft kiss on his cheek. Arno gave a blank look, before realization dawned on his face and he nodded and smiled. “Oh. Oh! Of course. Today’s my birthday.”

“Ah, yes, I told you he’d forget,” Edward laughed. From next to him, Shay grumbled and handed Edward ten dollars.

At that moment, Altaïr came parkouring in through an open window – and Arno immediately addressed him. “You were following us,” he said with a laugh. “I thought I saw you. You’re terribly good at hiding in plain sight, Mentor.”

Altaïr shrugged, but looked pleased with himself.

“And you,” Arno said, his tone accusing as he turned towards Jacob. “You were wasting my time on purpose.”

“Ah, amico mio, let’s not start turning on our brothers,” Ezio said with a laugh, coming between them. He held out an arm towards the dining room. “You usually do all the cooking here, Arno – we decided that, instead, perhaps we could return the favour.”

Arno looked in disbelief at the sumptuous spread laid out on the table. As he regarded all his favourite foods and desserts – steak, a bottle of red Bordeaux, and what looked like strawberry mille-feuille. He made a wordless glance towards Élise (no who doubt played a part in giving insights on what his favourite foods were) and she simply smiled and winked.

“Sorry we’re late!” Desmond said, suddenly jumping through the same open window that Altaïr came through. Aveline, also just arriving, had enough decency to come in through the front door.

“We were just getting this gift-wrapped,” Desmond announced, presenting Arno with a medium-sized parcel. “Happy birthday.”

Arno recognized the initials emblazoned on the chocolate-coloured box, and laughed. “This is too much, mes amis. You are too kind to me.”

“It’s alright,” Desmond said, “Aveline got us a discount.” This earned him a painful nudge to the ribs from Aveline. “Ow! What?”

“You can open your present later, let’s eat,” Evie said firmly, when she noticed the hungry stares that Connor and Shay were giving to the cuts of steak on the table. The Assassins and Templars sat down, and Edward served, while the others passed around the side dishes.

Several hours later, they all found themselves in the living room, drunkedly playing a round of ‘Taboo’. 

In a moment of tranquility – as Jacob struggled to describe, ‘chicken leg’ amidst fits of drunken giggling – Arno regarded his fellows, and smiled to himself.

“Everything alright there, Arno?” Desmond asked.

Arno nodded. He grinned, looking on as Evie and Jacob high-fived. “Thank goodness for twin telepathy!” they crowed triumphantly while the opposing team groaned, wondering if twin telepathy was, indeed, an actual thing.

“Oh yes,” Arno replied. “I was just thinking ... my birthdays had always been quiet affairs. This –” he made a sweeping gesture at the Templars and Assassins who were now struggling to contain their laughter as Edward tried and failed to describe the word, ‘piercing’ – “is a much welcome change.”

Desmond smiled broadly. “Yeah? Well then ...” he raised his beer bottle, “Happy birthday, pal.”

“Merci,” Arno replied, raising his wine glass in return.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: This turned out a lot differently than what I originally planned – I had a different storyline in mind, but with the deadline of Arno’s birthday (August 26th) looming in the distance, I did not have much time to make much changes to the story and had to make do with what I had. 😅

I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you guys enjoyed reading it. I want to write more ‘Casa Assassino’ stories in the future, because I think when you get all the characters interacting together, fun stuff is bound to happen, haha! I’ll also see if I can include Cal Lynch and Aguilar de Nerha involved in future stories as well, somehow! 😊