Five in the morning, and daylight was just barely slipping into the hideout. Amongst the knots of wires, sleeping bags, and beeping electronics sat Shaun, an overly

irritated Brit who's nimble fingers danced across the lettered squares of a keyboard like the skilled feet of a world renown tango dancer. Although he had only been awake for about three and  a half minutes, he was already dressed.

Clad in his usual sweater vest, dress shirt and khaki wardrobe, he "casually" sat, his back hunched and eyes focused on the screen that blared an excessive amount of light into his dilating pupils.

If it wasn't obvious that Shaun was focused by examining his body language, the overly exaggerated sighs he occasionally heaved would have sated any questionable
doubts. Yet, in walked his biggest annoyance and wettest dream, Mr. Desmond Miles himself, who, with gold eyes that shone with innocent curiosity, peaked over Shaun's tense shoulder and promptly yelled:
"Hey! What are you doing?!" The Brit's determined focus shattered into a million pieces like glass, and he scowled deeply.
"Unlike you, Miles, I am working. Hard." Shaun spat, his voice dripping with hostility like the fangs of a venomous snake. The assassin slowly recoiled, headphones blasting in his ears. It was quite clear that he was into the music that Rebecca had on her iPod a bit... too much. After receiving Shaun's annoyed response to his abnormally loud question, he resumed his dancing. Right behind the working computer buff.
Just as Shaun was about to turn and bark at him for being so bloody irritating, he caught sight of just how Desmond was dancing. Lithe, muscular limbs moved gracefully in the air as his slender, firm hips swayed smoothly along with the beat of the music. His white hoodie  drooped slightly from his shoulder, revealing just a teasing hint of taut, tan skin. Though he wore a midnight colored t-shirt beneath his jacket, one could clearly see a bit of his collarbone as well as his smooth, elegant neck.
Shaun passed his tongue over his suddenly dry lips. He couldn't deny that Desmond was, indeed, a delicious sight. But that wasn't even what got to him the most. Out of the tan male's throat rose the most sensual words of a song that the Brit had ever heard him sing.
"You wanna know, how to make me smile? Take control, own me, just for the night~" And on and on in that smooth, gorgeous voice. It was then that a thin stream of warm blood came trickling out of Shaun's nose. In Shaun's mind, singing suggestive lyrics while subconsciously dancing in a seductive manner was an invitation.
Without so much as a second thought, the Brit jumped out of his seat and pounced on the assassin, pinning Desmond to the Animus. Confused gold eyes peered up at him from beneath thick black lashes as a headphone plopped out of his ear. Fucking adorable.. Shaun thought, gripping the tanner male's wrists tighter.
"Uh.. what are you doing, Shaun?" he inquired, blinking owlishly at the other man. He knew Shaun hated him, but this was.. unexpected.
"You're so bloody annoying.. you know that, Miles?" The Brit growled,  his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he leaned in closer. Their lips were hardly an inch apart. If there were any time to call them out on sexual tension, it was now. Desmond's lips quivered, and his tan face flushed a bright red.
"I.. aim to please." He replied sarcastically, still trying to not look nervous, though you could see it in the way that he trembled beneath the taller man that he was, and very much so. The music was still blasting loudly from the headphones, but all else was silent. A smirk crossed Shaun's mouth. He noticed the plump, quivering lips and moved in a bit closer.
"Well... please me, then." was the reply he gave, his eyes half lidded. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What am I doing?!  he cried out in his head, but he didn't stop himself from moving forward to capture that hypnotic pair of lips.