Sicurezza

Disclaimer: Assassin's Creed and all of its characters are property of UbiSoft. I do not profit from it, apart from getting entertainment from doing my fanfiction and improving on my language and writing skills. Also, all events and characters are purely fictitious and any similarities to people or events in real life are purely coincidental.

Assassin's Creed II is a step up from Assassin's Creed I in terms of game play and an action-oriented story. However, I felt what was lacking was the subtle intimacy in the development of characters which was present in AC1 (but that might just be me).

Somehow, in the psychological aspect, it doesn't sit well with me nor does it feel logical that someone would be so bent on revenge that they're unable to grieve. Or perhaps revenge IS Ezio's way of grieving. Either way, here's my attempt at something that the game may not have covered on the rather interesting relationship between Ezio and Leonardo.

Also written for smilebot, since she wanted to cuddle-time/fluff between those two. Also dedicated to silenthillkitty and doubleleaf [for one of her pictures].

Bright blue eyes gazed through the window up at the pouring sky as lips curled downwards into a frown. Adjusting the ever-present beret on his head, Leonardo breathed out stiffly through his nose as he folded the clothing haphazardly piled on his bed. Hands moved methodically over cloth but eyes were distant.

He's out on another mission and it's raining.

Packing neatly folded clothing into an empty trunk, the artist glanced at the empty easel before shifting back to the open window. He was in no mood to paint today.

Is he alright? Has that idiota been taking care of himself or has he been so busy that he's forgotten to eat again?

The normally jovial artist stared pensively at a pigeon perched on his windowsill, which had started watching him curiously as well, before throwing his arms up in frustration and turning to the easel. Worrying wouldn't help either of them. He might as well finish up some of the work that was commissioned to him.

A shadow passed over the pigeon, startling it to flight.

Sepia eyes watched beneath a hood, observing the man pack his clothing. Lips quirked into the beginnings of a smile, in spite of beginnings of a slight headache pounding in his head and the various odd aches in his bones.

Such a simple activity.

So mundane.

So… normal.

Normalcy is but a fleeting luxury now…

The rain was beating heavily upon him and (cazzo!) it was cold but he was content to watch the man pace back and forth before stopping in front of the window. Settling down onto the roof's ledge, he relaxed and allowed the smile to come forth. There would be no guards on the roof, at least not in this weather.

Eyes followed the artist as he threw up his hands in the air.

This isn't like you Leonardo, the man chuckled silently, you don't have to wor-

His thoughts were interrupted by a squeaky, nasally (and rather unbecoming) expulsion of air erupting from his nose. Brows furrowing, the man barely wiped his nose before a barrage of sneezes let loose, nearly unbalancing him off the roof.

Deciding it was wise to get to solid ground before he fell off; the man jumped down neatly and promptly startled the pigeon that was perched on the window ledge.

Climbing onto the window ledge unsteadily, with the headache growing worse, and about to jump into the house, he was startled by a sudden roll of thunder and pitched forward.

Leonardo squeaked in fright at the dark silhouette, outlined by distant lightning, tumbling in through his window. A good look, however, had the look of shock and fright being replaced to something akin to barely bridled delight.

"Ezio!"

Rushing over to the disheveled figure, the artist grabbed him by the armpits and hoisted him up with surprising strength. The artist was the very definition of glee with the way he was holding (or rather, hugging very tightly) the assassin and tapping his feet on the ground excitedly.

Chuckling, Ezio fought against the urge to wince from his raging headache and patted Leonardo on the back, "Leonardo, il mio caro amico, è bello vederti di nuovo."

"Come, come! You must be tired," Leonardo half-dragged the assassin and pushed him into the couch sitting in the corner, "Sit here!"

Moving to the kitchen, Leonardo continued chattering as he prepared some food for his rather esteemed guest. Meanwhile, Ezio had settled for leaning back and resting his throbbing head on the armrest of the couch.Mierda… when did Leonardo get such a comfortable couch, Ezio wondered lazily amidst quiet snuffling.

He could already feel whatever tension that had built up from his mission slipping away as he relaxed into comfortable atmosphere and the soft leather of the couch. All he could hear was the crackling of fire and comforting familiarity of Leonardo's chatter.

Now if only this headache and fogginess in his mind would go away. Along with the aches in his body that were making themselves prominently known. Must be coming down with something, Ezio thought hazily.

"Ezio," Leonardo called out as he walked from the kitchen, carrying a small tray of food, "I didn't expect anyone to be coming-"

Pausing mid-sentence, Leonardo set the tray down beside said person and raised an eyebrow. "Ezio… you don't look well."

Groaning, the assassin turned to face him, voice coming out slightly slurred, "Si, I think I've been in the rain for far too long…"

Snorting, Leonardo moved towards the prone assassin, "you don't say?"

Placing a cool hand onto his forehead, Leonardo's eyes widened, "Ezio! You're burning up!"

Grunting noncommittally, Ezio merely wrapped his arms around the artist's midriff, pulled him close enough for him to press his face into the belly before him and yawned. Frowning at Ezio's oddly clingy behaviour – not that he was really complaining – Leonardo tried to pry Ezio's arms off him. Said man merely growled in annoyance before tightening his hold.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Leonardo had a flash of inspiration, "Ezio! Get up! C'è una donna bella e attesa al piano di sopra per voi!" (Ezio! Get Up! There is a gorgeous woman waiting upstairs for you!)

Looking up at the artist with wide eyes, Ezio merely replied with a rather childish pout, "Voglio solo che tu…" (I just want you…)

Face blushing at that statement, Leonardo forgot what he intended to say. Understanding finally dawned upon him at Ezio's following words. "…padre…" (…father…)

Gently threading fingers through Ezio's hair, Leonardo stroked his head. Sighing in contentment, Ezio finally closed his eyes and allowed his hands to drop, though his face was still nuzzled comfortably into Leonardo's belly. Seeing his chance to get away from Ezio's grip, Leonardo stepped away.

Almost immediately, as if his life depended on physical contact, Ezio's eyes opened. Fear was evident in sepia pupils. "Si prega di non andare..." (Please don't go...)

It hurt to see such blatant fear in the normally stoic young man and to know he was part of the cause of it. Leonardo was walked up the stairs. "Come now, Ezio, we have to get you to bed."

Rolling off the couch, Ezio scrambled up to Leonardo and trotted obediently behind him.

Moments later, both men reached Leonardo's bedroom. Ushering Ezio, who was leaning on him and breathing heavily, into the bedroom and pushing him down onto the bed, Leonardo turned to get a wet cloth when he felt a steady grip on his wrist.

Turning around, Leonardo was saddened by the lost look with Ezio's eyes. "Si prega di non andare ... non lasciarmi di nuovo sola." (Please don't go... don't leave me alone again.)

So much fear. So much pain. It was honestly heartbreaking.

Settling down beside Ezio, Leonardo gently pulled the covers up over shuddering Ezio's body and stroked his sweaty brow. "Relax, io non vado da nessuna parte." (Relax, I'm not going anywhere.)

The man visibly relaxed beneath those words. Eyelids drooped as he slowly drifted off to the steady rhythm of Leonardo's thumb. Moments later, he was fast asleep.

Leonardo smiled fondly, albeit it was dampened slightly at the knowledge of Ezio's unresolved conflict, and made to finally get that wet towel. He frowned, however, when he found that he couldn't get free from that hand around his wrist.

Sighing, he resolved to lie down beside Ezio. He'd be there should Ezio need anything.

"Fateli passare! Sono innocente!" (Let them go! The'yre innocent!)

Leonardo was abruptly awoken by Ezio's wild thrashing and yelling. Rapidly blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Leonardo hastily grabbed Ezio's wrists and earned himself a bruise in the eye along the way. Cazzo! The man was strong!

Pinning the struggling assassin down with great effort, Leonardo stared into shrunken pupils, "Ezio! It's me!"

His words were, however, unheard as Ezio thrashed blindly in his nightmare. Using his body to pin Ezio down, Leonardo was distantly amazed that he, somehow, hadn't already been flipped over and assassinated.

Moments passed slowly before Ezio seemed to slip away from his nightmare and fall back into slumber. Breathing heavily from exertion, Leonardo fell down beside Ezio. Placing an arm around Ezio protectively, he used his other to gently rub the flat of Ezio's back and shush quiet whimpers.

Over time, the whimpers stopped as Ezio curled closer to Leonardo. Slowly, the artist raised his hand and placed it on Ezio's forehead. The fever had broken. Good. With that, he joined his partner in slumber.

Ezio woke to the morning sun pricking his eyes and to a warm body beside him. Looking around groggily and taking in a distinctively familiar smell of wood, canvas and paint, he felt arms curl around him protectively.

Recognition of his surroundings dawned upon him and he decided it was too early to think about things. Nuzzling back into the inviting warmth, he allowed himself to delve and sink into this safe world. He'd done enough missions and killed enough to templars to earn some time to pretend.

He could pretend for a while that this was a world without Templars or conspiracies.

He could pretend for a while that he was just a normal and carefree young man.

He could pretend for a while that he was home.

Ezio paused at the thought and frowned, then decided.

No.

He was home.

~Fin.