Hey, kids. You may or may not recognize this unfinished story from page 7 on the Assassin's Creed kink meme. Well, yeah. It's mine. I just de-anonymized myself. Also, to avoid anyone saying "omg this fic sounds like another fic! Atlas, you're totally copying INSERT USERNAME HERE!", I thought I'd mention that I wrote this story at the very beginning of March (3/1/10). So if there's anyone out there with a similar story, just compare the dates.
Sorry about the sour mood, kiddies. Just kinda sorta venting a little bit. And if you were expecting a HTBD update... sorry again. Anyways, please enjoy this awkward story of mine. It involves an extremely pissed off Leonardo, an adorable seventeen-year-old Ezio, and a shameless / anger inducing Michelangelo. Also, there are barely any cuss words in this story. I feel quite accomplished. Quite.

chapter one

visit

x

Ezio was, for the most part, immature. He was smart; not below average (but certainly not above average) and yet he had never really been one to think before he leaped. He tried too many times to blame it on his age – his youth. But his mother still scolded him with an unblunted tongue, while his father tried his best not to chuckle over his son's wild ways.

On the contrary though, he had moments where he knew how to act like a well-educated, somewhat decent boy. He could carry on polite chatter with important figures at social events. He could charm anyone when he really put his mind to it. And he was completely capable of staying out of relative trouble for at least a full day.

Unfortunately, this wasn't one of those days.

Ezio whistled contently to himself in the comfort of his room as he tightened his boots, making sure that they were strapped up in perfect symmetry. He stood, gave himself a final glance in the mirror (which was much more like a longing stare – his huge ego was another thing that he was well-known for), and headed out. He didn't bother telling his parents where he was going. He was old enough to handle himself. Most of the time, anyways.

The young man had a bit of a peppy bounce in his step as he strolled through Florence, winking at every girl and courtesan that glanced at him. He stopped a few times to deliver some letters, or beat up some unfaithful husbands, but he mainly stuck to aimlessly journeying through the city. It was still early morning when he felt his feet begin to throb from all the walking, so he stopped and sat down at a bench.

It was at that moment that Ezio realized he had absolutely nothing to do.

It was also at that moment that he realized that the reason why he had nothing to do was because he barely had any friends. And that revelation didn't really make Ezio too happy. The more he thought about it, the more troubled he felt. Even the sickly little Petrucchio had more friends than he. No, all Ezio had were some courtesans, a few acquaintances from his schooling days, Cristina, and - occasionally - his siblings.

He let out a huff, breaking out of his elegant posture to slump forward. Well, fine. He was seriously lacking friends. So what? He got along just fine without them. That wasn't the problem. The problem was... why? Why didn't he have friends? He momentarily wondered if the fault was his, but quickly brushed the thought aside. No. Ezio Auditore was never at fault. Maybe he would make a mistake or two every once in a while, but he was never at fault. He instead came to the rather logical conclusion that he was too busy to keep friends. Yes, that must be it.

His feet were in considerably less pain than before, so he stood up again. What would he do now? He didn't want to deliver any more letters or get into any more fights. He wanted to converse, to chatter about nothing... but he had no one to do that with. Heaving out a sigh, Ezio lowered his shoulders. Perhaps he'd just go and bother Federico.

As he stood idle he heard a salesman's voice booming from an unnoticed stall. "Come, one and all! We are having a sale on all of our paintings! From the most detailed landscapes, to the most beautiful portraits! And for our more, ahem, wealthier patrons... We have a great special now on a few pieces by the wonderful Leonardo da Vinci! You will not find a better price anywhere else!"

Instantly, Ezio perked up. Of course! He could go visit Leonardo! Why hadn't he thought of that sooner? He grinned to himself he recalled the man's very... distinct features. Like his odd clothing choices... and his bright eyes... and his soft smile... and... and...

It took Ezio a few seconds to realize that he was daydreaming. It took him another few seconds to realize he was still grinning like an idiot. He cleared his throat and schooled his expression into one of indifference. "Well, I suppose I'll go pay Leonardo a visit," he said aloud to no one in particular. And on that rather awkward note, he set off to find the artist's workshop.

XIXIX

Ezio was most definitely more than just an outspoken person. He was loud, he was proud, and he was completely unafraid of the consequences of his actions.

… At least, usually.

At the moment he felt a little unsure about his grand plan to go visit Leonardo. It wasn't as if Ezio didn't like the man; they had spoken many times before. It was just that all of those other times, he had been on errands for his mother to pick up art. Or he had simply run into Leonardo on accident.

He had his reasons to be a little nervous about showing up uninvited to the artist's shop. Despite the fact that the two men had known each other for a few months now, he barely knew Leonardo on a personal level. Most of their previous conversations had been very bland and awkward. What if the artist grew bored of him?

However, Ezio was not one to linger on self-conscious trains of thought. If Leonardo didn't wish for his company, then the young man would leave. Simple and efficient, no harm done.

Okay, fine, that was a huge lie. Ezio's ego was a fragile one, despite common belief. It was especially fragile when dealing with someone that he actually would like to get to know better. And Leonardo was perhaps one of the most interesting people Ezio had ever met.

He was also painfully attractive. (What?)

The young man walked with forced purpose up to the door, trying to appear much less nervous than he felt. He found that it was exceedingly difficult to bring his clenched hand up to knock, but he managed, resting his knuckles against the rough wood. Actually knocking on it, however, was at least twenty times harder. He swallowed thickly, feeling his palms become a little clammy and his heart hammering furiously in his chest.

Then he thought of how ridiculous he must look. 'Christ, this is Leonardo. He is probably the nicest man in all of Italia, and even if he didn't want me around, he would more than likely put up with me anyways. What am I worried about?'

And with that, Ezio gave himself a smug smile and pounded ruthlessly on the door.

But the moment he was finished knocking, his smile was thrown off his face and the urge to dash away from the workshop as soon as humanly possible implanted itself in his mind. He waited a grand total of two seconds before telling himself, 'Oh well, I suppose he is not home. See, Ezio? No harm done,' and he turned around, trying to quickly make his escape.

The key word being 'trying'.

"Can I help you?" came a sharp call from the now wide open door.

Ezio froze and forced up a lopsided smile as he turned his body back around to face the man in the doorway. But his grin faltered when he took in the sight of said man.

Replacing the artist's usual happy-go-lucky expression, was one of pure exhaustion and slight irritation. His bright blue eyes were bloodshot and had been dulled down to a sort of pale, gray color. Sitting boldly beneath his irises hung deep purple crescents of flesh, an obvious sign of sleep deprivation. Leonardo's lips were drawn into a straight, tight line, and his cheeks were empty of all color. Most noticeable of all, though, was the fact that Leonardo's trademark hat was not resting over his head, but was instead clenched tightly in his right hand.

And yet Leonardo somehow still managed to look... nice. Yes, nice was the word. Nice was a completely platonic way to describe another male. Nice.

Ezio managed to discern that the artist probably hadn't gotten enough sleep the previous night (and he was a bit disturbed by this idea, for some odd reason). But he realized this in a quick flash of time, because as soon as Leonardo recognized the young man who was standing a few paces away from his doorstep, his eyes brightened, his mouth was tugged into a smile, and it looked like he was trying his very best to appear like his regular cheerful self.

"Ah, Ezio! Come in, come in!"

Ezio allowed himself to be ushered inside by Leonardo, silently wondering to himself what was wrong with the older man. "Buon giorno, Leonardo," he greeted politely with a gentle incline of his head once Leonardo closed the door behind him.

"Buon giorno. What can I do for you today? I do not believe your mother has commissioned anything from me." Leonardo replied quickly, his eyes scanning Ezio's face.

"Oh. Well, that is – I was just in the area, and – It is just –"

Leonardo waited patiently, but Ezio could feel a bit of tense air rise from the artist. It gave him the feeling that the other man probably wasn't as patient today as he usually was.

"I was wondering if I could... er... speak with you...?" Ezio hated how unsure he sounded. He despised the way his voice lost its usual grand impact. He loathed the way his hold on perfect enunciation had slipped. It was beyond terrible.

The tense air he had previously felt from Leonardo was soon replaced by a softening of features, a relaxation of facial muscles. Leonardo smiled, his eyes genuine. "Ah, so you have just come for a visit?" He straightened out his crumpled hat and placed it back atop his head. He then turned to wave towards the main space of his workshop. "Please, make yourself at home."

Ezio strained not to gape at the sight.

The entire place was completely organized – the artist's usual mess of a home now the epitome of beauty. Leonardo's sketches that had once been strewn across the stone floor were now stacked up neatly in piles on his desk. Finished paintings were lined up next to each other, and in-progress pieces of art sat in rows on the somewhat empty side of the room. There were no stray splotches of paint to be found, all of Leonardo's art tools were in their rightful places, and – dio mio! Were those lounging chairs over in the corner?

Leonardo was positively beaming at Ezio's amazement.

"It looks great! Did you do all of this by yourself, Leonardo?"

"Si. I worked all day until late last night." Well, that (innocently) explained the (innocent) reason why the artist looked so (innocently) exhausted. Ezio felt sort of relieved. Leonardo smiled again. "You may take a seat in one of the chairs, if you wish," he added, when he took notice of the younger man's pointed gaze.

Ezio didn't need to be told twice. He practically dove over to one of the seats and let out a long sigh as his muscles were enveloped by soft cushion. He chose to ignore Leonardo's startled chuckle – the artist just didn't know how much Ezio loved lounging chairs. Honestly. They were his most favorite thing in the entire world. Besides family, violence, and sex, of course.

"So, Leonardo," Ezio began, his eyes closing in relaxation as he began to feel more comfortable with his surroundings. "Did you do all of this for a specific reason, or did you just decide that you wanted to clean up?"

He could hear Leonardo going through a drawer on the other side of the room. "I suppose I did have a reason. I am expecting company in a few minutes."

Ezio's eyes snapped open and he sat up immediately, staring in horror at Leonardo who seemed to be finished with looking through the drawer and was now staring intently at a piece of paper on his desk. "What did you say?"

The artist stopped what he was doing and lifted his sleepy gaze from the paper to meet Ezio's shocked stare. "I said that I am expecting company in a few minutes," he repeated, the slow drawl of his voice casting a lazy spell over the room.

Ezio quickly stood up and brushed off non-existent dust from his pants. "Apologies, amico mio. I did not mean to intrude when you are having company over in a matter of minutes."

Leonardo blinked a few times, a confused smile crossing his face. "But I wish for you to stay, Ezio. It would be for the best." The artist paused for a moment, and stretched his smile into something more gentle. But his eyes betrayed the smile; they seemed to be glimmering with something almost... furious?

"The man who I am expecting for company is an extremely arrogant, incompetent, ass of an artist, and I am afraid if I am left alone with him for too long, I may either wring his disgusting, putrid neck with my bare hands, or punch his crooked nose back into his face," Leonardo explained.

Ezio blinked, confused and sort of frightened by the change in his friend's demeanor. "Ah. Well does this... this incompetent ass of an artist have a name?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Leonardo's nose crinkled a bit, yet the smile never left his face. "Michelangelo."