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Malik doesn’t have a high opinion of faint and timid hearts—those that can’t decide for themselves, and rather than make any sort of commitment to a path, will spin in circles and go nowhere. He finds them slightly irritating at best and maddeningly insufferable at worst. Even when Altair had been at his most arrogant, at least Malik could vaguely appreciate the commitment of being a headstrong ass. It’s difficult to admit, but Altair’s decisiveness remains to be a baffling point of attraction since Malik usually finds himself in direct opposition to it.

Lately, there is a little less opposition. Malik should be grateful to have Altair fractionally cowed into some version of awkward humility. He knows this, and maybe it’s only out of habit, but somehow Altair still remains aggravating. Every time they meet now it’s as if there’s a missed cue—mismatched glances, fleeting touches at linger, and lulls in conversation when they try not to argue as much. Malik can feel the tension, and he’s sure Altair can as well.

Of course, since Malik has been deliberating on this, Altair drops down through the bureau’s secret entrance with impeccable timing. When he catches Malik already staring in his direction through the lattice wall, he pauses. 

It occurs to Malik right then that he doesn’t like the hesitancy that sits across Altair’s shoulders. It doesn’t suit him at all, and Malik has never thought Altair to be so fainthearted. With a huff, Malik looks away, down at his map, and chooses to wait for Alitair to address him first.

Altair must have sensed Malik’s irritation, or perhaps developed a new skill in reading the room; he tugs down his hood and steps inside. To Malik’s surprise, Altair has that familiar gleam in his eye, the one that wants to badly fight.

“A curious thing, I ask for your forgiveness and now you are all sullen silence,” Altair says, going up to the counter to lean an elbow against it. “Have you granted it or not?”

“Safety and peace,” Malik drawls instead, ignoring the barb in Altair’s tone. 

“Safety and peace,” Altair replies impatiently. “Well?”

“As I recall, I never offered you forgiveness,” Malik says. “I only rejected your apology.”

“One and the same,” Altair mutters. He exhales, and does the most brash thing Malik has seen in weeks from him—Altair grabs Malik’s wrist. “You are obviously still angry with me, and I know you are always forthcoming with the reasons, believe me. So what is it?”

Malik glances down at Altair’s hand. He shifts his own palm, testing the grip, but Altair lets his hand slide into a less forceful hold. “...I’m not angry.”

“Well then, I’ve never known you to be so coy,” Altair says when the silence sits for too long. His fingers curl around Malik’s hand. “What do you want from me?”

Malik scoffs. “Me be coy? As if I would have the time to act as such, when you keep running in and out of my bureau without a word. I think it must be you-” and he has to stop as a laugh of realization escapes, “-or both of us.”

Altair brow furrows. “I…” he starts, eyes darting down to their joined hands, and then back up. His lips thin into a line. Now there is exasperation in his voice, the same realization hitting, “It’s a difficult subject to bring up. Stupid, even. Why would it be on me?”

“I might have been unfair,” Malik admits, which must have startled Altair badly enough to make his jaw drop.

Altair is still holding onto his hand, their closeness so ingrained it doesn’t feel like he’s waiting for an answer, that Malik can simply let go and it wouldn’t change anything, even when it’s clear that maybe it should.

Malik dislike those with faint hearts, and he’s not about to make a liar out of himself. He pushes forward and presses a kiss to the corner of Altair’s mouth, light and airy.   

Altair goes still the entire time, though Malik’s lips had been only a fleeting touch. Malik eases back, wry by his own actions.

Altair apparently agrees. He’s blushing a faint red through his whole face, but out from his mouth, he says, “That’s it?”

Malik gives a shrug, and picks up his quill for the excuse to hide his own flush.