[comment fic] ac3 time travel: Achilles & Connor

[tanyart]

renquise wanted to see a YOUNG AND BRASH AND STRAPPING Achilles. So somehow he time travels to Connor's timeline and now they have to team up?? I'll just be dropping these drabbles off here because my tumblr layout makes text stuff hard to read.

Also you should read renquise's ficlet because having your emotions slightly wrecked is fun.

Connor made a hasty grab for the tail ends of Achilles’ robe, teeth gritting in frustration as his hand made an unaccustomed catch of nothing but empty air. It was difficult, seeing his mentor so readily climb up and ahead of him over buildings, and even more difficult when Achilles would look over his shoulder with a smug expression that Connor had no problem deciphering.

“And you claim that I trained you?” Achilles asked, tapping a foot against the ledge of the tiled rooftop. He looked down dubiously and threw an outstretched hand.

Connor pointedly ignored the offer and hauled himself up. He felt the uncharitable urge to raise his voice, but there were pointed bayonets peeking out from the other side of the slanted roof. Another yelling match would alert yet another patrol, which would make it their third chase tonight. Third. How they managed to actually kill their contract still remained a mystery to Connor.

With a silent sigh, he said, softly, “You trained me well.”

And even though this Achilles had yet to develop the familiarity with Connor that had taken years to form, he must have recognized the change in his tone. He looked distinctively uncomfortable by Connor’s earnest words.

“I must have gotten senile in my old age,” Achilles mused. Even the shadows of his drawn hood could not hide his sardonic grin. “Did I?”

And maybe he knew Connor would have told the truth, and maybe the truth did not interest Achilles at the moment. He sprinted off before Connor could give his one word answer, before Connor could reach out and try to grab his robes again, grit his teeth and knew that he would catch nothing but air.

and something more heartwarming which of course involves getting connor angry

Connor had always contented himself with cursing in his native tongue when the occasion called for it, but he had never felt such a great need to curse in English as he did now. That way, at least Achilles would know the proper implication and level of his anger without needing to have awkward transitions in between languages. In any case, Connor made do with several choice words and quickly found that his vocabulary and willingness to speak was making leaps and bounds in a way that shocked everyone but Achilles.

“But it seems to me that you are always angry,” Achilles noted, standing by the doorway, soaked from head to toe in seawater and rain.

“And you,” Connor spat, “are always trouble.” He turned away from Achilles, so livid that he had to pace up and down the tiny shack that made Faulkner’s home on land. Thunder rumbled overhead and Connor glanced out the window to check on the Aquila. Fortunately, Faulkner had wisely chosen to stay onboard under the excuse to get her properly stowed from the heavy rain.

“I did not captain your ship, if this is what you are on about. Bobby did most of the work. He did not age very well, did he?” Achilles said, brow furrowing as if he was very close to piecing certain things together and slowly coming to a conclusion he was reluctant to find. “Then against most sailors don’t, as I understand it.”

Connor whirled around. “I do not care that you took the ship. I care that it was two weeks. Two weeks!"

Achilles stared at him blankly.

“Two weeks, and you left without a word,” Connor exclaimed, throwing his hands up, “and it’s not as if you are sixteen and very young and thoughtless and, and…”

“And?” Achilles raised an eyebrow then his expression lit up with realization. With a bark of laughter, he clapped his hands, droplets flicking into the air. “Don’t tell me. You’ve done the very exact same thing to me, when you were sixteen. And very young. And thoughtless.”

“And I have never repeated it after,” Connor said stiffly, and finally allowed Achilles to step inside.

“Was I so very distressed as you were when you ran out to sea?” Achilles asked with a wry look. He wrung at the ends of his shirt and half the ocean must have dripped onto the wooden floorboards.

“Worried,” Connor corrected, looking down at his gloves. One of the straps had come loose and he tightened it, pulling at the leather viciously.

“Ah, but I did forgive you, right?” Achilles said, surprising Connor with a hopeful, winning smile that was rendered wholly ineffective since it had a fairly unnerving effect on Connor rather than charming.

“In a way,” Connor said, storming past Achilles to go outside. He threw an annoyed look over his shoulder and gestured for Achilles to follow. “But I am not you.”

Achilles, in the middle of shedding off his coat, glanced up quickly and made a noise of protest. “I had only just gotten dry!”

Connor was already halfway down the pathway to the docks. He turned around, spreading his hands out in challenge as he walked. “If you had your fill of the sea in only two weeks then surely I underestimated you.”

“You’re mad. In case you have not noticed, there’s a storm brewing,” Achilles called out, but he was running towards Connor, arms struggling to put his coat back on. “A storm,” he repeated, sounding more and more delighted by the idea.

With that decided, Connor waved up to his first mate and cupped his hands around his mouth to shout, “We’re not done with the Aquila yet, Mr. Faulkner!”

“’Course you two aren’t,” Faulkner hollered back, and started to shout the orders.