The sun was high and Antonio cursed at it-the heat he could handle but the sun, the mutinous sun made him growl at it with irritation. And it smelled. He could say with confidence that he had never smelled something as awful as Venice's canals, wealthy and peaceful as the city was. It made him gag whenever he had to pass over a bridge but at the very least he could hide his reaction from his teammates for the most part when they weren't complaining themselves about the stench.

"If people would stop dumping their shit into the canals it would stink less," another militia muttered to himself.

"If you would all shut up it would feel less shitty to be here," yet another said over his shoulder.

"Engage in your games all you like, bastardo, but it will not help anyone," the first shoved the man in front of him and Antonio wondered who had thought that it would be a good idea to travel in such a tight pack in a hot and smelly place as Venice.

Before a fight had a chance to break out their leader grabbed them both and smacked their heads together, "stai zitto, stronzi. May that knock some sense into your senseless heads."

The two stumbled back, clutching their foreheads and yelling swears at their leader. Antonio wondered where they had gotten the coglione to take a tone with a higher ranking man but he said nothing, resisting the urge to wring his hands. He had heard the stories of what they did to men who spoke out of turn and he had no interest in being killed. Especially not by some sort of lottery system. We are more likely to kill each other than to be murdered by any assassin. That has to be a tale someone has made up and even if it were not he is not here anyway. Regardless, he did not expect to be spending much time alone-it is better to be safe rather than sorry even if these idiots are more liability than ally.

They followed a patrol route outlined by the head of the militia that took them through the Castello district and to the outskirts of San Marco then back again as if any of the men in the group would be completing the entire trip every day. Within twenty minutes I saw two guards lounging on benches and talking to the courtesans. To say Venice was not what he had been expecting would be an understatement. But he would be paid and provided with a place to sleep so he could find no true faults with working in the city; without much excitement or not.

Eating should have been a relaxing experience. Should have been. Is not. The other men had taken to throwing scraps of food at each other like children to stealing each others toys. He thought it had ended when an olive pit smacked him in the side of the face. It had spit on it and clung wetly to his face for a moment before falling to the table. He opened his mouth to yell for the culprit to show himself but the man in question removed the need for such things after proudly crowing that the hit had counted as 100 points.

Then he nodded at Antonio with a stupid smirk, "you are from Florence?"

"And what if I am, stronzo?"

The man popped another olive into his mouth and elbowed the man next to him, "told you."

If he hadn't made a promise to himself that he wouldn't get himself killed he would have fought him in an instant but as it stood he had made that promise and so stayed firmly rooted to his chair. His mouth on the other hand remained willing to argue even if he couldn't physically fight. "What do you have against Florence?"

"Nothing," a light shrug, "you just seem Florentine."

I can see my thoughts are wasted on him. I doubt he has any of his own to begin with. With that he went back to eating even despite the bastard continuing to spit his pits at him. If one of us has to be killed as an example, God, make it him.

They rose with the sun or at least most of them did. He noticed a couple of men laying about on their bedrolls still dead asleep and stepped over them. The barracks where they would be staying until they got their own rooms ideally in the midst of the Castello district. He had heard the personal guards of the Barbagio did not sleep far from the head of the family himself and if that was indeed true... I hope they do not intend to make me one of those. If they are targets of the assassino I want nothing to do with them. Halfway through the thought he realized he had started to regard the assassin as real though he knew nothing in particular about him. Back in Florence they had said he was the son of a banker who had been killed but those were likely just stories for minstrels to write stupid songs about. Besides, there was a decided lack of proof as to his existence and whereabouts.

After using the bathroom he donned his uniform; a long sleeved shirt with green and black stripes, a pair of heavy pants and leather armour, on his head he placed a green beret. He looked utterly stupid. His own mother would have laughed. After looking at the others though he didn't feel so bad. Besides, he was there to do a job not look like the subject for a painting and also he didn't want to preen too much lest he hear more calls of "Florentiiine". It began to get out of hand when they all refused to sleep near me. And it is all that bastardo's fault.

Again the sun sat high in the sky and he wanted to complain to someone about it however seeing as the others gave him a wide berth other than when they wanted to get close for the laughs he kept his mouth shut. It felt like childhood all over again. The taunts, the desire to fight just about everyone around him and the lack of a backbone to actually do anything about it. God, maybe he should have just given up and apprenticed to some old man back in his youth and learned to do something useful like painting or carving or making armour for idiots like the ones he currently lived and worked with. Their leader for the most part seemed to play the part of ass kisser to anyone of higher rank than himself who they ran into and 10 minutes into their training Antonio already felt boredom taking hold. Why hadn't he just gotten married to some farm girl and become a farmer? It would have been so easy and yet here he stood waiting his turn to spar with his peers. They had been lined up in two lines with a partner across from themselves but the number was odd and Antonio found himself without anyone to fight. A shame because he was ready to after all of their abuse. He would have relished hitting them with a stick, really.

The armsmaster called him forward, and he responded slowly having baked in the sun for a good 15 minutes already but raised his blunted sword at the barked order to do so. His fellow trainees laughed heartily at how easily the old man knocked the weapon from his hand-laugh all you like but I am sure you would not be so good at it either. With hurt pride he retreated back to the line to wait for someone else to spar, their teacher apparently deciding that he hadn't enough skill to fight even in jest with the master of arms.

Over the span of their training they learned everything from swords to fist fighting though they only got 6 Sundays worth of it so his grasp on the weapons part of battle was weak at best. Of course he had intended to learn fencing as a child however his mother had told him stories of people being terribly maimed thus killing any drive he'd had to learn the skill. Everyone else it seemed, had not had that problem so for the 6th Sunday in a row he nursed a particularly large bruise on his chest and the arm's master growled at him that his showing weakness would be the death of him. Perhaps if everyone would stop jabbing me in the same spot with their swords I would not have such a problem. He said nothing though and just nodded, hoping that he would learn better while he was actually patrolling Venice. He had heard the others talking of how peaceful the city was however and hoped against all of his sense that there would be no problems that would require he stab anyone with any real deadly intent.

As he had done the first day he returned to the barracks and applied balm on his aching muscles before sitting down with a book. He had found the book merchant fairly quickly but only because they had happened to pass it on patrol-the man there frowned at him when he bought books by Florentine authours but otherwise said nothing. I do not see what the issue is people have with Florence here and elsewhere. It is not as if I am saying Firenze is better than Venezia. I only think it. I am certain he cannot read my thoughts. Christo, he cannot, can he? No, that is stupid. The next time he went he would be sure to buy other books. If I show him loyal patronage he will stop scowling at me...I hope.

His room was no beauty nor did it have much room for anything other than a bed and desk but it would do for sleeping at least. He still moved, though-the place was freezing even in the beginning of the fall. The tradeoff for the warmth of the sun was the stench of the canals but his nose had begun to get used to it, a fact he wasn't sure he was happy about. Perhaps he would be unable to smell anything else ever again.

As he sat in the courtyard he could hear the other men running about roughhousing and playing games-his eyes remained firmly on the words of his novel. He didn't want to be friends with those brutes. Really, he didn't. There was plenty more to do here than fight or gamble and he intended to do it especially considering he had never seen the sights of Venice before.

He saw the man approaching out of the corner of his eye, not lifting his head from his book being that he was under the assumption that he was just coming over to tell him he was a sodomite. At the very least it wasn't olive spitting man who seemed to be the leader of any such shenanigans.

"Hey."

Antonio looked up from his spot on the ground, "hello."

"You reading a book from Firenze?"

"...I brought it from there, si."

His teeth began chewing his bottom lip once the other man sat beside him. He was brunet with small eyes and the hint of a beard on his jaw-from where Antonio was situated he had looked tall however from their training he knew that there was only one other person anywhere close to his height and it wasn't this man.

"Guiliano."

"Antonio."

"So you come from Firenze. I am from Padua. It is rank here."

What is it he wants? None had shown any interest in anything other than bothering him-Antonio found himself fiddling with the material of his sleeve.

"No one warned me of the smell," he admitted, feeling every like a fool which was no doubt exactly what he looked like biting his lip and yanking on his clothes.

"I am not here to poke fun at you, you know. That is Bruno's venture, not mine."

So his name is Bruno. I will remember that. The scowl he thought he hadn't let show must have because Guiliano burst into laughter, "you two do not get along very well."

"How could anyone? He is the most irritating man I have ever had the displeasure of meeting!"

"Perhaps that is how they make friends in Forli."

If it was he couldn't see how anyone in Forli was friends. He had briefly passed through the city on his way to Venice but he hadn't spent the night. Too many stories about thieves and cutthroats from his mother had made sure of that. It hadn't looked anything like Florence with its dark stone walls and excess of beggars which had held their hands outstretched for money but he had just run by them without giving them anything. I should have. It is not as if I am poor. It is as the book says...I could have denied Jesus in disguise. What then? Will I go to hell for that?

"I think you think too much," Guiliano commented.

Since when could anyone think too much? If anything the people here thought too little. He cleared his throat, "I wonder..."

"Do you drink? You should drink and maybe the others will seem less annoying."

It was horrible advice however he nodded, "of course I drink."

He didn't really much which just made him feel more odd but he went along with it anyway. If it would help him become friends with these people or at least make them leave him be he would do it because 6 weeks of their ire was long enough.

"We are going to the tavern so come with us. The leader put me up to this to be truthful but you are not so bad as they make you sound."

He got to his feet and Antonio opened his mouth to protest then closed it though he really wanted to know what the hell people had been saying about him that made him out to be some kind of monster.

"See you tonight then. Sunset."

"Right."

What the hell was that? Antonio picked up his book and went back to reading, the promise of the tavern looming over him.

He hadn't often gone to such places so the crowded tavern made him want to return to the barracks immediately. His mother had left him in charge of his younger sisters most of the time, when he wasn't doing grunt work for a couple of merchants or those who worked under nobles. I should have spent more time with other men. If only I had had brothers. A gulp of his beer provided him with more courage than he normally would have possessed and so he found himself entrenched in a fist fight-the exact opposite of what he had wanted to happen.

It had started out innocently enough, like any fight, with a throwaway comment by someone that had sparked a rage in him that couldn't be controlled. It was stupid and yet he punched the man in the face without a second thought. He recoiled with a loud shout, cluing Antonio into the fact that not only had he thought of punching him he actually had. Merda.

"What the fuck is your problem, cazzo!"

"Say one more thing about me, stronzo and I will do it again!"

Bruno glared at him, holding his nose that had begun gushing blood almost immediately. He somehow managed to still talk though which was just utterly baffling, "it was a joke! What is it with you Florentines that you cannot understand humour?"

"I can understand jokes when they are actually funny!"

He didn't expect such a hard punch from such a small man. It made him stagger back into the crowd of people now gathered around them. The loud music continued, unbothered by the start of a brawl, and the courtesans still danced without stopping to look. Antonio recovered slowly thanks to the alcohol, stumbling about like, well, a drunkard, before being able to stand upright properly again. Drinking had been a bad idea-one that made him sluggish and slow enough that Bruno easily stepped out of the way of his next punch.

"If you are going to fight at least make sure you can hold your liqour, idiota," the short man smirked under his hand. His moustache and part of his beard had already been dyed nearly black by the blood from his nose but it didn't stop him from looking triumphant. What have I done to deserve this man's irritating attention?

Before he could try to punch him again vertigo overwhelmed him as he was yanked back by his collar.

"Enough the two of you. If you intend on fighting do it outside."

He recognized the voice as that of the man in charge of their squad-a huge brute of a man with more weight and brawn than brains. Or at least that was what it seemed like with the way he stared off into space so often with a blank expression on his chubby face. In terms of height he was the only one who matched, and outmatched, Antonio by at least a head.

"Ey, it was him who started it. Look what he did to my face!"

"Stai zitto. Have your quarrels where I do not have to listen to you. There is nothing more annoying than two women fighting over who is more beautiful."

Antonio kept his mouth shut having sobered up at least a bit at the man's booming voice however he would have to rethink his idea that the man wasn't very smart because he was at least intelligent enough to come up with stinging insults. Thoroughly chastised he offered a muttered and insincere apology. He wasn't sorry at all-in fact he was sorry he hadn't punched the asshole sooner because the way he had been hit hard enough to draw blood was quite soothing on his frayed nerves.

"Take him to the dottore since you are the one who caused the damage-and you will pay too."

That is bullshit. Just because he is the favourite he gets away with whatever he likes. He glowered yet kept his mouth shut again, communicating his understanding with a nod instead. As angry as he was he didn't have near enough pride to think he stood a chance against the leader nor did he want to fight a man of higher rank. After all, he didn't have a some sort of death wish.

"I am not going anywhere with this dick."

Antonio ground his teeth together but couldn't keep himself quiet any longer, "You are fucking going or you can let your nose heal wrong for all I care, bastardo."

"Fottiti."

"You fottiti."

"You both go fuck yourselves, hurry up and get out of here before I see fit to drown you in the canal," the brute shoved Antonio towards the door and then Bruno a second later, "you too."

The last person he wanted to spend any time with was this man. No matter what he said he sounded like a cocky bastard and it set Antonio's teeth on edge every time. I do not know what I have done to make him bother me however now is a good time to ask.

He shivered at how the outside felt so cold in comparison to the interior of the tavern the moment the air hit him. If that son of a bitch hadn't made him so angry he could have been drunk, warm and hopefully at least somewhat entertained.

"What do you have against me, you piece of shit?" when he turned Bruno had already begun walking ahead but he looked back at Antonio's voice while prodding at his nose like it would help the pain.

"I have nothing against you. It is just funny how easily you get angry-that is all."

A sharp breath calmed him enough to speak, "so you are an asshole on top of being stupid. Good."

"If you are so offended then do not come around me, cazzo."

He shook his head and followed the idiot who was faster than he should have been with such short legs, "if I could do that I would not be here."

"You spend more of your time complaining like a woman than you do doing anything worthwhile."

Even if he knew that he was being baited he couldn't help but feel anger building up inside him. Who the hell did he think he was? God? He didn't have more than a second to ponder that because Bruno took off running for some reason and proved once again that small didn't mean slow.

"Wait, you idiot!"

"Is your dress too tight, madonna?" the brunet's laughter rose into the air like smoke-it sounded like a donkey attempting to laugh.

"I am not a woman!"

"I am not a woman!" came the reply in a bad falsetto.

Why do I bother following him? Do I like being abused? He didn't know but he did continue lagging behind him-if he died it would be his fault and he didn't think he could live with having even an annoying man's death on his shoulders. At least Venice had some sort of charm at night. The lanterns cast an orange glow on the water of the canals making them look almost appealing though he still would never swim in them no matter how hot he was and it was mercifully quiet other than when they passed by a particularly rowdy household party. Bruno knew where he was headed at least because they reached a doctor within 10 minutes-Antonio had too much pride to admit he hadn't any idea where most of anything was here for all his promises to himself that he would explore he had yet to do it.

As the doctor spoke he tuned it out, not much caring what he had to say until he named a price. An extortionate price at that. The amount he asks for makes it seem as if I have torn his entire nose off not just broken it. Although he hoped for his own coin purse that it wasn't broken. Just looking at the ugly hunk of flesh cost money never mind the actual bandaging.

"You are lucky, messere, that it is only a small break."

It was hideous already anyway. Not only was it huge there was a big bump-probably where other people had punched him-in the middle. It is like a rocky hill. He handed over the money anyway while Bruno smirked in a way that made him want to hit him again. It would not be such a small break then. The only small miracle came with the fact that the process didn't take very long with such an experienced doctor and they parted ways almost immediately after the procedure was over.

God in heaven, he didn't think it could possibly get any worse.

Spoilers: It's gonna get worse. Also there will be copious use of the word stronzo in this, just fair warning.

Anyway, this was originally a story I wrote for the kink meme but I cut quite a bit out, gayed up the characters a lot more, etc, on the meme so this is the unabridged version you could say. For those who read it before there'll be new adventures so to speak mixed in with the old and a couple new characters(also probably more make outs). Also I'm actually editing shit, I know, I'm surprised too. For new people(if there are any of you) I'm gonna warn you now there WILL be male/male relationships way way later because this is essentially a romance...Eventually.