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dreamingcellardoor) wrote2014-04-14 09:53 pm
dreamingcellardoor) wrote2014-04-14 09:53 pm
Entry tags:
First AC fic~
Title: Your Heart and Mine
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Malik Al-Sayf, Tazim Al-Sayf, Altair Ibn-La'Ahad, / Malik x Altair
Summary: Perhaps they called it 'falling' because there is a kind of inevitability to it. Like being drawn in by gravity except the force of attraction isn't determined by something as tangible as mass.
Alternatively, Altair doesn't think he's interested in being a father and Malik had no choice in the matter, but they somehow end up in the same place in the end.
A kink meme fill. Modern day AU. Malik has two arms because I could not think of a good reason for why he wouldn't.
Altair had never seriously thought about becoming a father.
His own father was only a distant and indistinct memory because he had died when Altair had been a child (young enough still that he had asked where his father had gone and why he wasn't coming back). So it wasn't like he had any fond memories to give him warm feelings about fatherhood or make him want to raise his own child.
Besides, by the time Atair was old enough to even consider it, there had been so many other things that seemed, at the time, infinitely more interesting and, thus more important than being a father ever could be.
At twenty four, he was soaring high like an eagle riding the wind, free and unfettered. Fatherhood held very little appeal then, when he didn't think anything would be worth tying himself down for.
(There was also an unspoken fear of failure, of simply not being good enough that he buried because he was Altair Ibn-La'Ahad and he was afraid of nothing.)
~ + ~
Malik had not chosen to become a father.
Rather, when his and Kadar's parents had died leaving them orphaned there had been no other choice for him other than to take up the responsibility of both an older brother and father. Not because there were no actual choices (because there always are, because even giving up is a choice) but because Malik out-right refused to consider any other choice.
He had only been nineteen when he took Kadar's hand and promised his little brother that everything will be all right, that he'll protect him and take care of everything.
So don't cry.
Malik repeated it to Kadar as often as he needed to. (And to himself as well, because his birthday cake with 'Happy Birthday Malik!' written on it in chocolate was still in the fridge and if he didn't he would have hurled it across the room when he was always telling Kadar not to waste food.)
There had been some difficult years after that but in the end everything, every moment spent balancing three jobs against bills and groceries and the possibility of online courses, all of it had been worth it and if Malik were given the choice he would do it all over again (though perhaps with fewer stumbles along the way because he is older and wiser now than when he'd been nineteen.)
So he had been ecstatic when his wife had told him she was pregnant. Or, he had been once he'd finished staring at her in mute shock and she had finished laughing at his surprise.
Nothing can make him regret taking responsibility for Kadar, and he suspects that nothing can make him regret doing it again for this tiny life in his arms this time around.
Even if it had led him back here, to the kind of grief that he had foolishly believed wouldn't be able to touch his family again if he didn't let it.
(But he was only a man and there was nothing he could do except hold their son so his wife could give the child a smile so tender it broke Malik's heart and whispered the child's name as if it were something unbelievably precious before she closed her eyes for the last time.)
Malik rocked Tazim in the nursery they had painted together and promised that everything will be all right.
~ + ~
Their first meeting, Tazim had been told years later, could only be described as a complete and utter disaster. The phrase, 'they got along like a house on fire' was only applicable if you ignored the actual meaning of the idiom and went with a more literal interpretation.
Which was to be expcted in some ways.
Altair and Malik were similar in the depth of their pride and stubborness, yet different enough that it was only too easy for them to clash.
It did not help that there had only been one taxi and no one could say conclusively who had gotten there first.
So they stood there and glared at each other while telling the other to just back off, you asshole.
Altair because it was raining and he was soaked and goddamnit he was here first.
Malik was in a similarly sorry state, but only because he hadn't bothered to grab an umbrella before rushing out of the office. It hadn't, and still doesn't seem important when Kadar called him in a panic about how Tazim is running a fever and he needs to be home right now.
It left them both disinclined to yield and maybe even itching for a fight, anything to feel less helpless and let off some of the stress this day had caused.
It was the taxi driver who suggested that they split the cab, and while that solved that problem, they still argued about whose destination to go to first and neither of them would budge on that point either.
In the end, though, it was Malik who left the taxi first, handing the driver too much money (or maybe not enough given how when they had been sniping at each other the whole way there) and told him to just keep the change before getting off without even giving Altair a second glance.
~ + ~
Tazim was four when Altair met him.
Altair had just come out of the electronics store to see a child standing near the fountain in the mall, clearly lost as he looked from side to side.
(Later, when Altair got to know father and son better, he would wonder how it had even happened in the first place since Malik watched Tazim like an over protective mother hawk.)
"Baba?" The child turned his head again and Altair, who wouldn't be able to tell you why he was standing there instead of moving on, could see that the kid was about to cry.
He didn't like kids, Altair reminded himself. He's never been the sort of person who would wave at other people's kids in restauraunts and make faces at them to make them laugh. He just...didn't like kids. And, anyway, someone was bound to do something about this, right? It wouldn't matter if he just walked away...
The child sniffed and in the second between that sound and a second tearful call of 'baba' Altair had already started walking.
The child sniffed again and stared at the strange man who was crouching down in front of him.
Altair stared back before clearing his throat, "Are you lost?" He said in the awkward way of an adult who suspected there was a special way you were supposed to speak to a child that they were not privvy to.
(There was, but it was really only differentiated from how you speak to an adult in that you have to speak a little more slowly and be careful not to use bad words like 'shit' or 'stupid'.)
The only reply Altair got was another sniff and a "I can't find baba" but no tears. Thank god there were no tears.
He looked around. "Where was your baba?" Because Altair did know enough Arabic to recognize that word.
He did not, however, know enough to make sense of what the kid said next which came out in a mix of Arabic and English. It could have been in some kind of martian language for all that he could understand it.
He stared.
The child stared back expectantly. Then he sniffed again and Altair decided, screw it, he'll just take the kid to the help desk.
So he took the kid's hand and led him, first to the map because Altair had never needed to know where the help desk was, and then to help desk where someone can make an announcement for the parent in question.
There had been a brief delay when the lady behind the desk had asked for the child's name and he had pressed closer to Altair, suddenly shy (it was the desk and the fact that Altair had crouched down to his level to speak to him) until Altair had asked for her.
"Would Tazim's father please come to the help desk?"
And he technically could have left except the chi--Tazim had clung to his hand when he tried to pull it away.
Altair told himself it wasn't the worried expression Tazim was making that made him stay.
At least he was a pretty quiet for a kid. Altair wondered what the child's father was like and idly tried to imagine what Tazim's features might look like on an adult as they waited.
He was got his answer when Tazim's father burst into the room looking frantic and, oh...it's that guy.
It's pretty hard to forget the man you argued over a taxi with (especially when they were dangerously close to punching each other in the face before they came to an agreement about sharing) and Altair was pretty certain the other man hadn't recognized him only because all he sees right now is Tazim if the way he automatically zeroes in on the child is any indication.
"Tazim!"
"Baba!" Tazim lets go of Altair to go to his father and Altair's fingers self-conciously curl in at the loss of contact.
He ends up sticking them in the pocket of his hoodie instead.
Tazim is hugged then prodded and poked until his father was satisfied he was fine. Only then did he relax and started to speak to Tazim. The words were in Arabic, so Altair only caught bits and pieces of it (he had not kept up with the language as he grew up and, like all skills not practiced, it became a skill lost) but the tone was calmer than he would have expected...even if it still had the sound of a lecture.
It was different from a few weeks ago when they had been all but screaming at each other in rain and even more different still from the quieter but even more cutting remarks made in the taxi.
Even his face looked different, made softer by worry and love despite the frown on his face. It made Altair stare when the last time they met all they'd done was glare at each other.
The moment was broken though, when Tazim's father looked up...and froze.
It really was hard to forget the face you had been tempted so smash your fist into.
They stared at each other for a moment. Then Altair smirked because it was easier, less complicated to act sure than unsure. Tazim's father narrowed his eyes at him in response and stood up, picking up Tazim in a smooth, practiced motion.
"Thank you." He said with grace because Malik did not believe in 'do as I say and not as I do' when it comes to teaching children. He adjusts his hold on Tazim. "Tazim, say thank you."
"Thank you."
Altair expected him to leave after that, but the man stayed for a moment longer before turning back to his son.
"Remember, Tazim. When someone thanks you it's good manners to say 'you're welcome'." Then he turned and left without giving Altair a chance to get a word in edgewise even if the comment was clearly directed at him. Tazim, looking over his father's shoulder, brought a hand up to wave goodbye.
Altair pulled a hand from his pocket to wave back but aborted the motion half way and let it drop to his side instead.
~ + ~
The really funny thing was, for the longest time they didn't even know each other's names, only Tazim's.
So to Altair, Malik was 'Tazim's father' and to Malik, Altair was 'that insufferable fool'.
(And when Tazim found out he only gave them both a look, one he'd picked up from Malik, no doubt, that was both exasperated and fond. He shook his head.
"I can't believe you two.")
~ + ~
As it turns out, the park where Altair does his morning run is the same one Malik takes Tazim to on the weekends.
They stare at each other the day after their meeting in the mall as if they couldn't quite believe this was happening.
Altair thinks they must have passed by each other before, but while Altair pays attention to his surroundings he, never-the-less, doesn't really care about the people in it unless there was some reason to, like if they were on a collision path.
(And maybe that was a pretty accurate way to describe what was happening now.)
Malik speaks first and all he says is: "Well." Followed by, a raised eyebrow and, "don't people usually do their morning runs earlier than this?"
Tazim is happier to see Altair even if they've only met once. It's in the way his expression lights up when he looks up from the sandbox and Altair won't deny that it was kind of nice.
(It had been a while since anyone had truly and honestly been happy to see him without some kind of ulterior motive.)
Tazim waved and, this time, Altair waved back.
When he turned back to Malik, the other man had an odd look on his face. It looked torn between amused and disconcerted. It was kind of funny and Altair might have smirked if Malik's next word didn't make him frown instead.
"I would not have guessed that you were good with children."
"I'm not."
There was the raised brow again and its twin looked like it wanted to follow. And, for a split second, Altair almost wanted to punch him again.
"You are." Malik says smoothly. "Despite what you might think, Tazim wouldn't have gone with just anyone."
At Altair's skeptical look Malik just scoffs.
"Believe me if you want or don't. It doesn't matter to me either way."
That was a dismissal if Altair's ever heard one, but before he could leave, Tazim runs back over babbling excitedly about some rock he's found as Malik nods along with a smile. It was, Altair found, a little distracting.
He didn't realize he had been staring though, until Malik turned his head just a little to meet his gaze from the corner of his eyes.
Altair looked away.
There was another amused scoff and when Altair looked back Malik's full attention was on Tazim again. Or so it seemed.
Honestly, most of the conversation had gone in one ear and out the other so Altari was surprised when Malik jerked a thumb in his direction. "I think he likes it. Why don't you give the rock to him, Tazim?"
Altair suspects Malik was trying to make a point, though what it is exactly, he doesn't really know. He just knows that Tazim's head swivelled to fix his eyes on him so fast he's a bit surprised the child's body didn't jerk with the motion. He tightened his small hands on the rock for a moment because even to an adult it was obvious there was probably something special about it to Tazim and he was obviously loathed to part with it.
Before Altair could deny it though, Tazim leaned over his father's knee and held out the rock for him to take.
"For you." Tazim clarified when Altair didn't move to take it. From above his head, Malik was giving Altair an expectant look, and Altair frowned at him before crouching down to take the rock.
"Thank you."
Tazim's smile was almost worth the self-satisfied look on Malik's face. It does not mean, however, that Altair hadn't scowled at him when Tazim wandered back over to the sandbox.
(He did keep the rock though...much to Tazim's embarrassment in the future.)
~ + ~
It became a sort of routine, passing them on the weekends when Altair went for his morning run. Tazim always waves and most of the time Altair waves back.
It would be another few weeks before he stops to sit with Malik on the park bench a second time. They talked a little, most of it inane things, but mostly they just sat in silence.
He did it a few more times after that until, slowly but surely, the times he stopped exceeded the times he didn't.
Part of it was Tazim, who was always so inexplicably happy whenever Altair showed up, even more so when he left the bench to play with him. Altair had heard a lot of adults calling children demons and Altair himself had thought they were probably a great deal more trouble than he'd prefer to deal with, once.
But there was something refreshing about a child's point of view, and Altair sometimes found himself surprised by some of the things that came out of Tazim's mouth. He also found himself enjoying the time they spent together like this.
Part of it was Malik, who usually greets him with an odd half smile (that was always part smirk) nowadays that does stupid things to his heartbeat. Which is not half as bad as what happens when he's playing with Tazim and turns to see a full smile, so fond and so warm directed at them. And even though he knows it's more for Tazim than him, he can't help but duck his head on the pretense of fixing the sand fort they're making anyway.
It was stupid, because the likelihood of Malik being married, if the wedding band on his hand and Tazim was any indication, was very high. Not to mention that he was probably straight.
But even if he tells himself that over and over again he finds himself looking over his shoulder at Malik anyway.
He's both relieved and disappointed when there's no smile, just an arched brow before Malik stood up from the bench and walked over.
"That fort is awful." He declares as he unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves before rolling them up. Then he crouches down to help them fix their mistakes.
"Really, Tazim. You should know better than to listen to building advices of a novice."
~ + ~
Summer slowly gives way to fall. The leaves change colour and soon Malik and Tazim are coming to the park in matching scarves.
("They were a gift from my brother." Malik grumbles when Altair gives him a look and tells himself it is the cold that is responsible for the colour on his cheeks when Altair smirks.)
The autumn sky looks unbelievably high on the Saturday Altair asks about Tazim's mother.
It's awkward and out of the blue, the way he asked but it's the sad and fond look in Malik's eyes that makes him wish he could take it back.
Malik shrugged in the silence after his answer. "It has been four years." His tone was as clipped as his answer had been, meant to imply the sentiment, I have moved on but also sounds a bit like I still miss her.
Altair says nothing and watches Tazim and remembers suddenly that he had been around that age when his own father left. His chest tightened and he did not want to imagine Tazim as the child he had been, alone and without any family to call his own. Did not want to imagine a world where Tazim did not have a father growing up.
"I'm glad."
And he knows it's the wrong thing to say even without Malik's head snapping around to stare at him first in shock, then in anger and Altair flails a little on the inside because words have never come easy to him.
His hand snaps out to take Malik's (for what reason he could not guess. After all, it's not as if Malik only has one arm and couldn't just punch him with his left if he wanted to) and he says quickly as if afraid that if he does not he will never have the chance again.
"That's not--" He squeezed Malik's hand and Malik must have seen something in his face because he frowns, still furious, but doesn't pull away. He takes a moment to choose his words carefully. "I'm just glad that Tazim still has you at least."
Silence fell between them and, belatedly, Altair remembered that he was still holding onto Malik's hand and lets go.
Shit.
He dragged a hand over his face.
Shit.
Altair stands up and opens his mouth to apologize but he just makes a strangled sound of frustration (self-directed) and instead he says, "I'll go."
He turns to do just that because he's totally screwed this up and--
"Tazim looks forward to seeing you."
Altair stops but doesn't turn. Malik's voice is tired, but it doesn't sound angry at least. He wants to believe it's a good thing but he still doesn't dare to turn around.
He hears a sigh.
"He'll be disappointed if you're not here tomorrow."
Altair lets out a breath he hadn't realize he'd been holding and nodded. Then he left before things could get more awkward. When he passed by he bid a quick goodbye to Tazim because he did not want to break something else today.
~ + ~
Things were still a bit awkward between them the next day, and the next week hadn't been that much better. It would be another week before the silences they shared were comfortable again.
It seemed, by some unspoken agreement they decided not to bring up the conversation from last time and that suited Altair just fine.
So it surprised Altair when Malik said one day without preamble, "Sometimes I think he deserves more than I have to give."
Unlike Altair, Malik's words were the result of weeks of thought. He had turned Altair's words around in the evening after Tazim had been put to bed, and oddly enough, they brought to the surface some insecurities he had held all this time. Maybe even as far back as when he had tried to raise Kadar as a teen who was not yet ready to be an adult.
It was ironic, he thinks, that all this should be brought to light when Altair hadn't been questioning his ability to raise a child at all.
It's apparently the same thing crossing Altair's mind because he's sitting there gaping at Malik like a fish.
"That is not a very attractive face you're making right now." He informs him simply and leaves the bench to go see what Tazim was up to behind the slide.
Because Kadar had turned out fine, so Tazim probably will too.
(He won't say it wasn't nice though, to have a vote of confidence from someone else too.)
~ + ~
It was nearly winter when Malik stands up from the park bench and holds his hand out to Altair.
"Malik Al-Sayf."
Altair stared and Malik couldn't help but be amused that, after everything, this should throw the younger man off kilter. (The fact that he knew Altair was younger and yet still didn't know his name was also amusing somehow.)
Slowly he took Malik's hand.
"Altar Ibn-La'Ahad."
They shook hands and Malik had to take a moment to marvel at how strange it was, how this exchange of names seems so much more intimate because it wasn't happening between strangers.
(Because when Malik sat down to think about, they weren't strangers at all. Malik would never have let a stranger crouch down with his son to play in the sandbox, would not have allowed a stranger push Tazim on the swings and he definitely would not have trusted a stranger to carry Tazim on his shoulders so he could reach that one red leaf that hadn't fallen from the tree yet.)
It was only a moment though, because at this point he knew he was only stalling and Malik was determined to not dally and drag his feet the way Altair had been doing for a while now. With that in mind, he tugged at the hand in his without any warning. When Altair stumbled half a step forward, he leaned in and kissed him.
It was short and chaste, nothing more than a gentle press of lips, but there was no mistaking the intent when Malik pulled back, looking at Altair with a hint of challenge and without even a shadow of regret.
There was no fear, because Malik has never done something without being completely sure of his actions (even if he was consciously keeping his breathing even so as not to betray the way his heart hammered in his chest). Instead there was something almost expectant in his eyes and the set of his mouth as he waited.
The ball's in your court now.
He did not have long to wait as Altair's grip tightened before pulling him in for another kiss, this one long enough that Tazim noticed and squealed, "Ew! Gross!"
~ + ~
Malik had not chosen to love his brother or Tazim: he simply did.
He loved Kadar even when they had argued as children, even through his early teens when sometimes having a younger brother tagging along with you everywhere was just a little embarrassing.
And he had loved Tazim from the first moment he held the child, even as they had lowered his wife's casket into the ground.
They are his, his flesh and his blood, his to cherish and protect and love.
It seemed, to him, a forgone conclusion that he should love them, as if those feelings had the same inevitability as gravity.
The body beside Malik shifted and he opened his eyes. There's the rustle of cloth as someone got up from behind him and Malik rolled over in time to see Altair crouching down in the way he always did when speaking to Tazim.
He watched them, blearily, their voices a soft whisper (he supposed they were trying not to wake him). Altair leaned forward a little and Malik watched two arms snake behind his neck and grab at the back of Altair's shirt.
It occurred to him, in the sluggish way thoughts travelled when one was still half-asleep, that Altair had chosen to love Tazim. That there was no reason why Altair should let the child into his heart but did so anyway. The thought was warm and Malik had to fight the smile that threatened to pull at his lips.
Altair stood up with Tazim tucked securely in his arms (Tazim will be seven soon and he wonders how much longer it will be before he can't be carried like this anymore; the thought makes him feel a little lonely). Malik scooted back to make room for them. Tazim was placed between them as Altair slowly eased the child's arms from where they clung to his neck still.
"Nightmare?" Malik asked as Altair's hand settled on Tazim's back. He got a grunt that he knew was a yes, then Malik's palm was on Tazim's back as well, fingers laced loosely with Altair's.
Malik hummed the lullaby he'd sung for Kadar and then Tazim, knowing that trying to sing after sleeping for so many hours was a lost cause. Tazim's breathing evened out first and their son was closely followed by Altair.
The last thing he saw before he drifted off himself was their hands, fingers loosely intertwined, rising and falling together with Tazim's breath and he wonders if it had been a choice at all or if it had been inevitable that they would both fall like this.
~ + ~
Altair had never considered the possibility that he could be afraid.
The truth, though, was that even if he doesn't remember his own father his heart has never forgotten the pain of being left behind and the loss of a loved one. So, in the way many people do when their heart is weak, he builds walls around it to keep it safe. It is built of words like, 'I don't need anyone' and 'I like being on my own' and 'no one would understand' and fortified by a layer of arrogance and aloofness.
And he left it there, that wall, until he believed everything it was built of, until he forgot that it was because he had been afraid of losing and being hurt.
"How is he?"
Malik looked up when Altair came into the room.
"His fever's gone down a little." Malik eyed the plastic bag in Altair's hand and then gave him a look because he had all but thrown Altair from the apartment to get medicine if only to stop the fool from pacing in the room and looking like Tazim is dying instead of just suffering from a cold. "I didn't ask you to go buy out the pharmaceudical section." He remarked dryly when it became clear that Altair wasn't going to catch the look because he was too busy staring at Tazim.
Altair looked sheepish before walking over and handing the bag over to Malik.
"I wasn't sure which one to get." And he hadn't wanted to call and take Malik away from Tazim's side even for a moment.
As Malik wordlessly sifted through the contents of the bag, Altair sat down on the edge of Tazim's bed and ran his hand through the child's short hair. His face was flushed with fever and Altair wondered if he ever looked so small and weak when he was ill.
(He also wondered why it was that people could trust their hearts to something as tiny and fragile as a child or how a child could believe that his parents could make everything right when Altair couldn't even take away something as simple as a cold.)
There is a hand on his knee and it's enough to drive the thoughts away and make Altair look up.
"He will be fine, Altair." Malik says with such calm certainty that it helps the knot in his stomach that had only gotten tighter every time he heard Tazim cough.
He couldn't be sure if Malik's certainty came from experience or the resignation that one of them had to be an adult in this situation but Altair is grateful for it all the same.
"I know." Despite that, he doesn't want to leave and Malik doesn't make him this time. He only shoves the plastic bag at him after taking what he needed and reminds him that he has five days to return it to the store with the receipt.
Eventually the fever breaks. When it did Malik dragged Altair back to their room and he slept the sleep of the dead. By the next day, Tazim was complaining about being hungry again and Altair had never been so happy to make someone soup, or so relieved to sit at a table watching someone eat soup.
Malik comes down to the kitchen and prods Altair about the medicine that still needs to be returned and Altair counters by pulling him down for a kiss. Tazim whines about them being gross and Malik runs a hand through Altair's hair while telling him that he's not getting out of going back to the store.
And Altair knows now that there is nothing more important than moments like these and that love is like a leap of faith but what you can get out of it is worth the initial fear when you start to fall.
END
So...usually when I write I write in bits and pieces and always out of sequence. This is not what happened here. I basically started writing and then...kept writing. All in one setting and started from the beginning and went all the way through to the end. And I am...kind of embarrassed because I am ridiculously proud of this...?
Also, it was supposed to be kind of mindless fluff but halfway through that first part with Malik I realized that what I thought I was going to write wasn't...quite what I was writing. Oops.
Either way, I have a weak spot for family stories.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Malik Al-Sayf, Tazim Al-Sayf, Altair Ibn-La'Ahad, / Malik x Altair
Summary: Perhaps they called it 'falling' because there is a kind of inevitability to it. Like being drawn in by gravity except the force of attraction isn't determined by something as tangible as mass.
Alternatively, Altair doesn't think he's interested in being a father and Malik had no choice in the matter, but they somehow end up in the same place in the end.
A kink meme fill. Modern day AU. Malik has two arms because I could not think of a good reason for why he wouldn't.
Altair had never seriously thought about becoming a father.
His own father was only a distant and indistinct memory because he had died when Altair had been a child (young enough still that he had asked where his father had gone and why he wasn't coming back). So it wasn't like he had any fond memories to give him warm feelings about fatherhood or make him want to raise his own child.
Besides, by the time Atair was old enough to even consider it, there had been so many other things that seemed, at the time, infinitely more interesting and, thus more important than being a father ever could be.
At twenty four, he was soaring high like an eagle riding the wind, free and unfettered. Fatherhood held very little appeal then, when he didn't think anything would be worth tying himself down for.
(There was also an unspoken fear of failure, of simply not being good enough that he buried because he was Altair Ibn-La'Ahad and he was afraid of nothing.)
~ + ~
Malik had not chosen to become a father.
Rather, when his and Kadar's parents had died leaving them orphaned there had been no other choice for him other than to take up the responsibility of both an older brother and father. Not because there were no actual choices (because there always are, because even giving up is a choice) but because Malik out-right refused to consider any other choice.
He had only been nineteen when he took Kadar's hand and promised his little brother that everything will be all right, that he'll protect him and take care of everything.
So don't cry.
Malik repeated it to Kadar as often as he needed to. (And to himself as well, because his birthday cake with 'Happy Birthday Malik!' written on it in chocolate was still in the fridge and if he didn't he would have hurled it across the room when he was always telling Kadar not to waste food.)
There had been some difficult years after that but in the end everything, every moment spent balancing three jobs against bills and groceries and the possibility of online courses, all of it had been worth it and if Malik were given the choice he would do it all over again (though perhaps with fewer stumbles along the way because he is older and wiser now than when he'd been nineteen.)
So he had been ecstatic when his wife had told him she was pregnant. Or, he had been once he'd finished staring at her in mute shock and she had finished laughing at his surprise.
Nothing can make him regret taking responsibility for Kadar, and he suspects that nothing can make him regret doing it again for this tiny life in his arms this time around.
Even if it had led him back here, to the kind of grief that he had foolishly believed wouldn't be able to touch his family again if he didn't let it.
(But he was only a man and there was nothing he could do except hold their son so his wife could give the child a smile so tender it broke Malik's heart and whispered the child's name as if it were something unbelievably precious before she closed her eyes for the last time.)
Malik rocked Tazim in the nursery they had painted together and promised that everything will be all right.
~ + ~
Their first meeting, Tazim had been told years later, could only be described as a complete and utter disaster. The phrase, 'they got along like a house on fire' was only applicable if you ignored the actual meaning of the idiom and went with a more literal interpretation.
Which was to be expcted in some ways.
Altair and Malik were similar in the depth of their pride and stubborness, yet different enough that it was only too easy for them to clash.
It did not help that there had only been one taxi and no one could say conclusively who had gotten there first.
So they stood there and glared at each other while telling the other to just back off, you asshole.
Altair because it was raining and he was soaked and goddamnit he was here first.
Malik was in a similarly sorry state, but only because he hadn't bothered to grab an umbrella before rushing out of the office. It hadn't, and still doesn't seem important when Kadar called him in a panic about how Tazim is running a fever and he needs to be home right now.
It left them both disinclined to yield and maybe even itching for a fight, anything to feel less helpless and let off some of the stress this day had caused.
It was the taxi driver who suggested that they split the cab, and while that solved that problem, they still argued about whose destination to go to first and neither of them would budge on that point either.
In the end, though, it was Malik who left the taxi first, handing the driver too much money (or maybe not enough given how when they had been sniping at each other the whole way there) and told him to just keep the change before getting off without even giving Altair a second glance.
~ + ~
Tazim was four when Altair met him.
Altair had just come out of the electronics store to see a child standing near the fountain in the mall, clearly lost as he looked from side to side.
(Later, when Altair got to know father and son better, he would wonder how it had even happened in the first place since Malik watched Tazim like an over protective mother hawk.)
"Baba?" The child turned his head again and Altair, who wouldn't be able to tell you why he was standing there instead of moving on, could see that the kid was about to cry.
He didn't like kids, Altair reminded himself. He's never been the sort of person who would wave at other people's kids in restauraunts and make faces at them to make them laugh. He just...didn't like kids. And, anyway, someone was bound to do something about this, right? It wouldn't matter if he just walked away...
The child sniffed and in the second between that sound and a second tearful call of 'baba' Altair had already started walking.
The child sniffed again and stared at the strange man who was crouching down in front of him.
Altair stared back before clearing his throat, "Are you lost?" He said in the awkward way of an adult who suspected there was a special way you were supposed to speak to a child that they were not privvy to.
(There was, but it was really only differentiated from how you speak to an adult in that you have to speak a little more slowly and be careful not to use bad words like 'shit' or 'stupid'.)
The only reply Altair got was another sniff and a "I can't find baba" but no tears. Thank god there were no tears.
He looked around. "Where was your baba?" Because Altair did know enough Arabic to recognize that word.
He did not, however, know enough to make sense of what the kid said next which came out in a mix of Arabic and English. It could have been in some kind of martian language for all that he could understand it.
He stared.
The child stared back expectantly. Then he sniffed again and Altair decided, screw it, he'll just take the kid to the help desk.
So he took the kid's hand and led him, first to the map because Altair had never needed to know where the help desk was, and then to help desk where someone can make an announcement for the parent in question.
There had been a brief delay when the lady behind the desk had asked for the child's name and he had pressed closer to Altair, suddenly shy (it was the desk and the fact that Altair had crouched down to his level to speak to him) until Altair had asked for her.
"Would Tazim's father please come to the help desk?"
And he technically could have left except the chi--Tazim had clung to his hand when he tried to pull it away.
Altair told himself it wasn't the worried expression Tazim was making that made him stay.
At least he was a pretty quiet for a kid. Altair wondered what the child's father was like and idly tried to imagine what Tazim's features might look like on an adult as they waited.
He was got his answer when Tazim's father burst into the room looking frantic and, oh...it's that guy.
It's pretty hard to forget the man you argued over a taxi with (especially when they were dangerously close to punching each other in the face before they came to an agreement about sharing) and Altair was pretty certain the other man hadn't recognized him only because all he sees right now is Tazim if the way he automatically zeroes in on the child is any indication.
"Tazim!"
"Baba!" Tazim lets go of Altair to go to his father and Altair's fingers self-conciously curl in at the loss of contact.
He ends up sticking them in the pocket of his hoodie instead.
Tazim is hugged then prodded and poked until his father was satisfied he was fine. Only then did he relax and started to speak to Tazim. The words were in Arabic, so Altair only caught bits and pieces of it (he had not kept up with the language as he grew up and, like all skills not practiced, it became a skill lost) but the tone was calmer than he would have expected...even if it still had the sound of a lecture.
It was different from a few weeks ago when they had been all but screaming at each other in rain and even more different still from the quieter but even more cutting remarks made in the taxi.
Even his face looked different, made softer by worry and love despite the frown on his face. It made Altair stare when the last time they met all they'd done was glare at each other.
The moment was broken though, when Tazim's father looked up...and froze.
It really was hard to forget the face you had been tempted so smash your fist into.
They stared at each other for a moment. Then Altair smirked because it was easier, less complicated to act sure than unsure. Tazim's father narrowed his eyes at him in response and stood up, picking up Tazim in a smooth, practiced motion.
"Thank you." He said with grace because Malik did not believe in 'do as I say and not as I do' when it comes to teaching children. He adjusts his hold on Tazim. "Tazim, say thank you."
"Thank you."
Altair expected him to leave after that, but the man stayed for a moment longer before turning back to his son.
"Remember, Tazim. When someone thanks you it's good manners to say 'you're welcome'." Then he turned and left without giving Altair a chance to get a word in edgewise even if the comment was clearly directed at him. Tazim, looking over his father's shoulder, brought a hand up to wave goodbye.
Altair pulled a hand from his pocket to wave back but aborted the motion half way and let it drop to his side instead.
~ + ~
The really funny thing was, for the longest time they didn't even know each other's names, only Tazim's.
So to Altair, Malik was 'Tazim's father' and to Malik, Altair was 'that insufferable fool'.
(And when Tazim found out he only gave them both a look, one he'd picked up from Malik, no doubt, that was both exasperated and fond. He shook his head.
"I can't believe you two.")
~ + ~
As it turns out, the park where Altair does his morning run is the same one Malik takes Tazim to on the weekends.
They stare at each other the day after their meeting in the mall as if they couldn't quite believe this was happening.
Altair thinks they must have passed by each other before, but while Altair pays attention to his surroundings he, never-the-less, doesn't really care about the people in it unless there was some reason to, like if they were on a collision path.
(And maybe that was a pretty accurate way to describe what was happening now.)
Malik speaks first and all he says is: "Well." Followed by, a raised eyebrow and, "don't people usually do their morning runs earlier than this?"
Tazim is happier to see Altair even if they've only met once. It's in the way his expression lights up when he looks up from the sandbox and Altair won't deny that it was kind of nice.
(It had been a while since anyone had truly and honestly been happy to see him without some kind of ulterior motive.)
Tazim waved and, this time, Altair waved back.
When he turned back to Malik, the other man had an odd look on his face. It looked torn between amused and disconcerted. It was kind of funny and Altair might have smirked if Malik's next word didn't make him frown instead.
"I would not have guessed that you were good with children."
"I'm not."
There was the raised brow again and its twin looked like it wanted to follow. And, for a split second, Altair almost wanted to punch him again.
"You are." Malik says smoothly. "Despite what you might think, Tazim wouldn't have gone with just anyone."
At Altair's skeptical look Malik just scoffs.
"Believe me if you want or don't. It doesn't matter to me either way."
That was a dismissal if Altair's ever heard one, but before he could leave, Tazim runs back over babbling excitedly about some rock he's found as Malik nods along with a smile. It was, Altair found, a little distracting.
He didn't realize he had been staring though, until Malik turned his head just a little to meet his gaze from the corner of his eyes.
Altair looked away.
There was another amused scoff and when Altair looked back Malik's full attention was on Tazim again. Or so it seemed.
Honestly, most of the conversation had gone in one ear and out the other so Altari was surprised when Malik jerked a thumb in his direction. "I think he likes it. Why don't you give the rock to him, Tazim?"
Altair suspects Malik was trying to make a point, though what it is exactly, he doesn't really know. He just knows that Tazim's head swivelled to fix his eyes on him so fast he's a bit surprised the child's body didn't jerk with the motion. He tightened his small hands on the rock for a moment because even to an adult it was obvious there was probably something special about it to Tazim and he was obviously loathed to part with it.
Before Altair could deny it though, Tazim leaned over his father's knee and held out the rock for him to take.
"For you." Tazim clarified when Altair didn't move to take it. From above his head, Malik was giving Altair an expectant look, and Altair frowned at him before crouching down to take the rock.
"Thank you."
Tazim's smile was almost worth the self-satisfied look on Malik's face. It does not mean, however, that Altair hadn't scowled at him when Tazim wandered back over to the sandbox.
(He did keep the rock though...much to Tazim's embarrassment in the future.)
~ + ~
It became a sort of routine, passing them on the weekends when Altair went for his morning run. Tazim always waves and most of the time Altair waves back.
It would be another few weeks before he stops to sit with Malik on the park bench a second time. They talked a little, most of it inane things, but mostly they just sat in silence.
He did it a few more times after that until, slowly but surely, the times he stopped exceeded the times he didn't.
Part of it was Tazim, who was always so inexplicably happy whenever Altair showed up, even more so when he left the bench to play with him. Altair had heard a lot of adults calling children demons and Altair himself had thought they were probably a great deal more trouble than he'd prefer to deal with, once.
But there was something refreshing about a child's point of view, and Altair sometimes found himself surprised by some of the things that came out of Tazim's mouth. He also found himself enjoying the time they spent together like this.
Part of it was Malik, who usually greets him with an odd half smile (that was always part smirk) nowadays that does stupid things to his heartbeat. Which is not half as bad as what happens when he's playing with Tazim and turns to see a full smile, so fond and so warm directed at them. And even though he knows it's more for Tazim than him, he can't help but duck his head on the pretense of fixing the sand fort they're making anyway.
It was stupid, because the likelihood of Malik being married, if the wedding band on his hand and Tazim was any indication, was very high. Not to mention that he was probably straight.
But even if he tells himself that over and over again he finds himself looking over his shoulder at Malik anyway.
He's both relieved and disappointed when there's no smile, just an arched brow before Malik stood up from the bench and walked over.
"That fort is awful." He declares as he unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves before rolling them up. Then he crouches down to help them fix their mistakes.
"Really, Tazim. You should know better than to listen to building advices of a novice."
~ + ~
Summer slowly gives way to fall. The leaves change colour and soon Malik and Tazim are coming to the park in matching scarves.
("They were a gift from my brother." Malik grumbles when Altair gives him a look and tells himself it is the cold that is responsible for the colour on his cheeks when Altair smirks.)
The autumn sky looks unbelievably high on the Saturday Altair asks about Tazim's mother.
It's awkward and out of the blue, the way he asked but it's the sad and fond look in Malik's eyes that makes him wish he could take it back.
Malik shrugged in the silence after his answer. "It has been four years." His tone was as clipped as his answer had been, meant to imply the sentiment, I have moved on but also sounds a bit like I still miss her.
Altair says nothing and watches Tazim and remembers suddenly that he had been around that age when his own father left. His chest tightened and he did not want to imagine Tazim as the child he had been, alone and without any family to call his own. Did not want to imagine a world where Tazim did not have a father growing up.
"I'm glad."
And he knows it's the wrong thing to say even without Malik's head snapping around to stare at him first in shock, then in anger and Altair flails a little on the inside because words have never come easy to him.
His hand snaps out to take Malik's (for what reason he could not guess. After all, it's not as if Malik only has one arm and couldn't just punch him with his left if he wanted to) and he says quickly as if afraid that if he does not he will never have the chance again.
"That's not--" He squeezed Malik's hand and Malik must have seen something in his face because he frowns, still furious, but doesn't pull away. He takes a moment to choose his words carefully. "I'm just glad that Tazim still has you at least."
Silence fell between them and, belatedly, Altair remembered that he was still holding onto Malik's hand and lets go.
Shit.
He dragged a hand over his face.
Shit.
Altair stands up and opens his mouth to apologize but he just makes a strangled sound of frustration (self-directed) and instead he says, "I'll go."
He turns to do just that because he's totally screwed this up and--
"Tazim looks forward to seeing you."
Altair stops but doesn't turn. Malik's voice is tired, but it doesn't sound angry at least. He wants to believe it's a good thing but he still doesn't dare to turn around.
He hears a sigh.
"He'll be disappointed if you're not here tomorrow."
Altair lets out a breath he hadn't realize he'd been holding and nodded. Then he left before things could get more awkward. When he passed by he bid a quick goodbye to Tazim because he did not want to break something else today.
~ + ~
Things were still a bit awkward between them the next day, and the next week hadn't been that much better. It would be another week before the silences they shared were comfortable again.
It seemed, by some unspoken agreement they decided not to bring up the conversation from last time and that suited Altair just fine.
So it surprised Altair when Malik said one day without preamble, "Sometimes I think he deserves more than I have to give."
Unlike Altair, Malik's words were the result of weeks of thought. He had turned Altair's words around in the evening after Tazim had been put to bed, and oddly enough, they brought to the surface some insecurities he had held all this time. Maybe even as far back as when he had tried to raise Kadar as a teen who was not yet ready to be an adult.
It was ironic, he thinks, that all this should be brought to light when Altair hadn't been questioning his ability to raise a child at all.
It's apparently the same thing crossing Altair's mind because he's sitting there gaping at Malik like a fish.
"That is not a very attractive face you're making right now." He informs him simply and leaves the bench to go see what Tazim was up to behind the slide.
Because Kadar had turned out fine, so Tazim probably will too.
(He won't say it wasn't nice though, to have a vote of confidence from someone else too.)
~ + ~
It was nearly winter when Malik stands up from the park bench and holds his hand out to Altair.
"Malik Al-Sayf."
Altair stared and Malik couldn't help but be amused that, after everything, this should throw the younger man off kilter. (The fact that he knew Altair was younger and yet still didn't know his name was also amusing somehow.)
Slowly he took Malik's hand.
"Altar Ibn-La'Ahad."
They shook hands and Malik had to take a moment to marvel at how strange it was, how this exchange of names seems so much more intimate because it wasn't happening between strangers.
(Because when Malik sat down to think about, they weren't strangers at all. Malik would never have let a stranger crouch down with his son to play in the sandbox, would not have allowed a stranger push Tazim on the swings and he definitely would not have trusted a stranger to carry Tazim on his shoulders so he could reach that one red leaf that hadn't fallen from the tree yet.)
It was only a moment though, because at this point he knew he was only stalling and Malik was determined to not dally and drag his feet the way Altair had been doing for a while now. With that in mind, he tugged at the hand in his without any warning. When Altair stumbled half a step forward, he leaned in and kissed him.
It was short and chaste, nothing more than a gentle press of lips, but there was no mistaking the intent when Malik pulled back, looking at Altair with a hint of challenge and without even a shadow of regret.
There was no fear, because Malik has never done something without being completely sure of his actions (even if he was consciously keeping his breathing even so as not to betray the way his heart hammered in his chest). Instead there was something almost expectant in his eyes and the set of his mouth as he waited.
The ball's in your court now.
He did not have long to wait as Altair's grip tightened before pulling him in for another kiss, this one long enough that Tazim noticed and squealed, "Ew! Gross!"
~ + ~
Malik had not chosen to love his brother or Tazim: he simply did.
He loved Kadar even when they had argued as children, even through his early teens when sometimes having a younger brother tagging along with you everywhere was just a little embarrassing.
And he had loved Tazim from the first moment he held the child, even as they had lowered his wife's casket into the ground.
They are his, his flesh and his blood, his to cherish and protect and love.
It seemed, to him, a forgone conclusion that he should love them, as if those feelings had the same inevitability as gravity.
The body beside Malik shifted and he opened his eyes. There's the rustle of cloth as someone got up from behind him and Malik rolled over in time to see Altair crouching down in the way he always did when speaking to Tazim.
He watched them, blearily, their voices a soft whisper (he supposed they were trying not to wake him). Altair leaned forward a little and Malik watched two arms snake behind his neck and grab at the back of Altair's shirt.
It occurred to him, in the sluggish way thoughts travelled when one was still half-asleep, that Altair had chosen to love Tazim. That there was no reason why Altair should let the child into his heart but did so anyway. The thought was warm and Malik had to fight the smile that threatened to pull at his lips.
Altair stood up with Tazim tucked securely in his arms (Tazim will be seven soon and he wonders how much longer it will be before he can't be carried like this anymore; the thought makes him feel a little lonely). Malik scooted back to make room for them. Tazim was placed between them as Altair slowly eased the child's arms from where they clung to his neck still.
"Nightmare?" Malik asked as Altair's hand settled on Tazim's back. He got a grunt that he knew was a yes, then Malik's palm was on Tazim's back as well, fingers laced loosely with Altair's.
Malik hummed the lullaby he'd sung for Kadar and then Tazim, knowing that trying to sing after sleeping for so many hours was a lost cause. Tazim's breathing evened out first and their son was closely followed by Altair.
The last thing he saw before he drifted off himself was their hands, fingers loosely intertwined, rising and falling together with Tazim's breath and he wonders if it had been a choice at all or if it had been inevitable that they would both fall like this.
~ + ~
Altair had never considered the possibility that he could be afraid.
The truth, though, was that even if he doesn't remember his own father his heart has never forgotten the pain of being left behind and the loss of a loved one. So, in the way many people do when their heart is weak, he builds walls around it to keep it safe. It is built of words like, 'I don't need anyone' and 'I like being on my own' and 'no one would understand' and fortified by a layer of arrogance and aloofness.
And he left it there, that wall, until he believed everything it was built of, until he forgot that it was because he had been afraid of losing and being hurt.
"How is he?"
Malik looked up when Altair came into the room.
"His fever's gone down a little." Malik eyed the plastic bag in Altair's hand and then gave him a look because he had all but thrown Altair from the apartment to get medicine if only to stop the fool from pacing in the room and looking like Tazim is dying instead of just suffering from a cold. "I didn't ask you to go buy out the pharmaceudical section." He remarked dryly when it became clear that Altair wasn't going to catch the look because he was too busy staring at Tazim.
Altair looked sheepish before walking over and handing the bag over to Malik.
"I wasn't sure which one to get." And he hadn't wanted to call and take Malik away from Tazim's side even for a moment.
As Malik wordlessly sifted through the contents of the bag, Altair sat down on the edge of Tazim's bed and ran his hand through the child's short hair. His face was flushed with fever and Altair wondered if he ever looked so small and weak when he was ill.
(He also wondered why it was that people could trust their hearts to something as tiny and fragile as a child or how a child could believe that his parents could make everything right when Altair couldn't even take away something as simple as a cold.)
There is a hand on his knee and it's enough to drive the thoughts away and make Altair look up.
"He will be fine, Altair." Malik says with such calm certainty that it helps the knot in his stomach that had only gotten tighter every time he heard Tazim cough.
He couldn't be sure if Malik's certainty came from experience or the resignation that one of them had to be an adult in this situation but Altair is grateful for it all the same.
"I know." Despite that, he doesn't want to leave and Malik doesn't make him this time. He only shoves the plastic bag at him after taking what he needed and reminds him that he has five days to return it to the store with the receipt.
Eventually the fever breaks. When it did Malik dragged Altair back to their room and he slept the sleep of the dead. By the next day, Tazim was complaining about being hungry again and Altair had never been so happy to make someone soup, or so relieved to sit at a table watching someone eat soup.
Malik comes down to the kitchen and prods Altair about the medicine that still needs to be returned and Altair counters by pulling him down for a kiss. Tazim whines about them being gross and Malik runs a hand through Altair's hair while telling him that he's not getting out of going back to the store.
And Altair knows now that there is nothing more important than moments like these and that love is like a leap of faith but what you can get out of it is worth the initial fear when you start to fall.
END
So...usually when I write I write in bits and pieces and always out of sequence. This is not what happened here. I basically started writing and then...kept writing. All in one setting and started from the beginning and went all the way through to the end. And I am...kind of embarrassed because I am ridiculously proud of this...?
Also, it was supposed to be kind of mindless fluff but halfway through that first part with Malik I realized that what I thought I was going to write wasn't...quite what I was writing. Oops.
Either way, I have a weak spot for family stories.