Assassin's Creed: Destiny of Souls

Chapter 25

The apartment was filled with the warm, comforting smell of something simmering on the stove—a blend of garlic, herbs, and roasted tomatoes that had Claire's mouth watering. She was wrapped up in a thick, oversized blanket on the couch, hands curled around a cup of tea as she watched Downton Abbey, completely absorbed in the world of old-fashioned romance and intrigue unfolding on the screen.
Aiden had started off half-watching while cooking, but by now he seemed just as hooked as she was. Every so often, Claire would glance over and catch him, wooden spoon in hand, standing in front of the stove but staring intently at the TV, as if he'd forgotten he was supposed to be cooking.
The episode had reached a particularly charged moment between two characters, their words heavy with restrained emotion, when the sizzle from the pan snapped Aiden out of his trance. He turned quickly, giving the pot a stir, though his eyes kept flicking back to the screen.
Claire smirked over her tea, watching him with amusement. "Careful," she teased. "You're supposed to be cooking, not getting swept up in all the drama."
Aiden shot her a look, though there was a grin on his face. "I'm not swept up," he said, his tone defensive but light. "It's just... intriguing. Politics, family legacies, maybe a touch of romance here and there. But I'm barely even paying attention, really."
"Uh-huh," Claire replied, raising an eyebrow. "Tell that to your pasta before it burns. I saw your face during that last scene—don't pretend you're not invested."
He chuckled, shaking his head as he turned down the heat on the stove. "Fine, maybe I'm... mildly entertained." He gave the sauce a final stir and then added, "But it doesn't mean I'm letting it distract me from the food. This is a masterpiece in the making."
She lifted her head, taking in the savory aroma wafting from the kitchen. "Actually, it smells incredible. I'm impressed." She shot him a curious look. "When did you learn how to cook, anyway?"
He shrugged, coming over to lean on the back of the couch. "A few years ago. Figured if I was always going to be on the move, I should know how to make something besides toast." He gave her a mischievous glance. "Besides, someone has to make sure you're eating something other than takeout."
Claire laughed, nudging him with her elbow. "Please, I'm perfectly capable of cooking for myself," she replied, though her smile softened as she looked back at the screen. The characters moved gracefully through scenes of gilded halls and secret glances, and she felt herself drawn back into their world.
The episode ended, and the prompt appeared to start the next one. Aiden hesitated for a moment, glancing over at her with a questioning smile, his thumb hovering over the remote.
"Think we've got time for one more before dinner?" he asked, his voice casual, though it was obvious he was just as caught up in the show as she was.
Claire smirked, pulling the blanket more snugly around her shoulders. "Who said we were stopping to eat?" she replied, raising an eyebrow as she settled back into the couch.
Aiden chuckled, hitting play without a second thought. "Alright, fair enough," he said, moving back toward the kitchen. "Guess I'll be bringing dinner to you."
He returned a few minutes later, carrying two plates that looked, Claire had to admit, far better than anything she'd expected. He'd prepared perfectly seared steak with a side of roasted vegetables, the plate garnished with fresh herbs and a dollop of creamy mashed potatoes, with just the right amount of butter glistening on top. The aroma alone was enough to make her stomach rumble in anticipation, the rich scent mingling with the warmth of the apartment and adding another layer of comfort to the scene.
He set her plate on the coffee table in front of her, then settled beside her with his own, glancing at her reaction with a small, satisfied smile.
"Steak and all the trimmings?" Claire raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Who are you, and what did you do with Aiden?"
He chuckled, shrugging nonchalantly as he picked up his fork. "Just thought you deserved something a little special. Besides," he added, cutting into his steak, "I wasn't about to let you settle for something mediocre, not on my watch."
She took a bite, savoring the tender, perfectly cooked steak, the flavors melting together in a way that surprised her. "Alright, I'll admit it," she said, her eyes widening a bit. "This is... really good. And you swear you made this yourself?"
He gave her an exaggerated look of offense. "I'll have you know, I'm capable of a few surprises. Just because I've dragged you through fast food drive-thrus doesn't mean I don't have a few tricks up my sleeve."
She laughed, the sound soft and genuine, settling deeper into the couch as she took another bite. "Well, color me impressed," she murmured, her gaze shifting back to the screen as the next scene unfolded.
They ate in comfortable silence, both of them becoming absorbed once more in the world of Downton Abbey, their plates slowly emptying as they laughed, groaned, and occasionally shot each other knowing looks when certain characters made their entrances. It felt effortless—this simple act of sharing a meal, wrapped up in blankets and the glow of the TV, as if the outside world had melted away, leaving only this quiet pocket of warmth and ease.
As the credits rolled on yet another episode, Aiden leaned back, stretching a little as he set his empty plate on the table. He glanced over at Claire, who was still curled up in her blanket, her plate cleared, her eyes drifting back to the screen as she seemed to be debating whether to start another episode.
"You're hooked," he said, smirking as he nudged her foot lightly. "Admit it."
Claire gave him a playful glare, though she didn't bother to deny it. "Fine," she said, her voice carrying a hint of laughter. "Maybe I am. But you can't talk—you were just as invested in that last episode."
"True," he admitted with a grin, sinking back into the couch. "Guess we're both sucked in now."
They exchanged a look, a shared understanding passing between them—a rare moment of normalcy that felt almost indulgent. They were two people who had spent so much of their lives in shadowed corners, focused on survival and duty, yet here they were, cozy on a couch, indulging in a drama that was worlds apart from the lives they led.
Aiden reached for the remote, glancing at her with a raised eyebrow. "Should we just binge-watch the whole series?" he asked, his grin widening. "We've got two weeks."
Claire laughed, settling more deeply into the couch, her blanket wrapped snugly around her shoulders. "Tempting," she replied, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "You're saying we drop all pretense and fully commit to being couch potatoes?"
"Why not?" he said, hitting play again. "We've earned it."
As the next episode began, Claire relaxed into the warmth of the moment, letting herself be drawn back into the world of Downton with Aiden beside her. For the first time in what felt like ages, she allowed herself to simply exist, free from plans, missions, and shadows—just two people, caught up in the comfort of a shared escape.

A couple of hours later, with empty plates and a bowl of popcorn between them, Claire's eyes began to droop, her head resting against the back of the couch. The day had been long, and even the engaging drama of Downton Abbey couldn't keep her eyelids from growing heavier.
Noticing her fading energy, Aiden reached for her pain medication, pouring a glass of water and handing both to her. "Here, take these," he said softly, watching her closely. "Can't have you waking up in the middle of the night cursing me for letting you skip them."
Claire chuckled, taking the pills and water. She glanced at the bottle and smirked, reading the name on the label aloud. "Claire Starling... how official." She looked up at him with a playful glint in her eye, and they shared a knowing smile.
"Remember when we had to pretend to be a medical team to get Desmond back to the States?" she murmured, her voice low and tinged with a touch of nostalgia. "You made a terrible doctor, by the way."
Aiden snorted, crossing his arms as he leaned back. "Excuse me—I was very convincing. I even wore those stupid reading glasses to look the part."
She laughed, the sound soft and a little sleepy. "The glasses weren't the problem. It was you trying to remember medical terms and then making them up halfway through." She grinned, her head lolling back against the couch as she looked at him with a tired but amused expression. "Though I guess 'Claire Starling' made a halfway-decent nurse."
He smiled, a faint warmth in his gaze. "More than halfway decent," he said, his voice quiet, affectionate in a way he didn't try to hide. "You kept us all together."
She held his gaze for a moment, feeling the weight of that memory settle over them, the mixture of adrenaline, fear, and trust that had bonded them during those chaotic days. But exhaustion crept back in, and she finally yawned, the laughter fading as her eyelids began to droop again.
"Come on," Aiden said softly, setting aside her glass and easing the blanket away from her shoulders. "You need sleep."
Before she could protest, he slipped his arms under her, lifting her gently from the couch. She blinked, slightly startled, but he held her steady, his movements careful and deliberate as he carried her toward the bedroom. She let her head rest against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his steady heartbeat beneath her cheek as he took each step with careful attention.
When he reached the bed, he lowered her onto the mattress, pulling the blankets up and tucking them around her as she settled into the softness. Her eyes drifted closed, the exhaustion of the day finally taking over, but she managed a quiet, mumbled "thank you" as she felt the comfort of the bed surround her.
Aiden brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment longer than necessary. "Anytime, Claire," he murmured, barely loud enough for her to hear.