It always made Leonardo edgy when Ezio went off on his more...explicit assassinations. He never knew if the boy would come back with a smile and another Codex Page, or if he would come back missing a scared the painter. He didn't want to lose Ezio, his only true friend. It would be as if Salai left him again.

He watched the door to his study with nervous blue eyes, gnawing on his paintbrush. He couldn't focus on the task at hand. He was distracted immensely with Ezio's safe return. The paint on the canvas was starting to dry, and with hopeless eyes he set to work again on his painting, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. The brush flew out of his hand as someone pounded harshly on his door. He stood up shakily, rubbing his stained fingers on his breeches, going to the door nervously. He opened it with a false smile. Several guards stood in front of the meek painter menacingly. He smiled anyway, hoping to at least appear calm.

"Ah, good morning, gentlemen. How may I be of service?" he clasped his hands together, his face kind. But under his generous facade, Leonardo was panicking. He knew that these guards were looking for Ezio. They knew that Leonardo had been harboring him, letting him rest as he decoded the Pages.

One of the guards held up a wanted poster, Ezio's face printed in blaring black scarred mouth was pulled into a smirk, his face hidden by his white hood. Leonardo stared at the poster with a blank face.

"We believe that you know the whereabouts of Ezio Auditore de Firenze. We know you have been harboring the assassino, so no funny business, DaVinci. Tell us where he is."

Leonardo smiled sympathetically, his blue eyes hard.

"I apologize, signore, but I do not know the precise location of Ez...the Assassino...NGH!" the guard struck out, his armored fist connecting with his stomach. Leonardo grunted in pain, one of his legs buckling. He gasped for breath, his face scrunched up in pain.

"Merde..." he moaned, clenching his hand in the fabric of his shirt. The guard shouted at him in rough Italian.

"Don't give me that shit, Da Vinci!" he backhanded Leonardo across his cheek.

The artist slumped against the door, touching the red handprint on his cheek. His blue eyes glistened. He gritted his teeth and shouted with unbridled anger.

"God damn you!"

He was slapped again, the guard cursing. A deep voice called out above them, making the guard stop in his attacks. Leonardo made a sound of relief, low in his throat.

"Hey! Up here, you bastards!"

Leonardo and the guards looked up in unison, two guards collapsing under the weight of the white robed man. He straightened up and turned swiftly, dodging the slice of a sword, ducking under the metal, lodging his hidden blade into the man's stomach. Leonardo, ducked into the doorway, a hand flying to his nose at the smell of blood. Oh god...

The man in white dodged another swipe of a blade, a hollow, predatory laugh coming from deep in his throat, dropping down to kick out the guard's legs, pouncing immediately onto the stunned guard. He held his blade to the guard's throat.

"If you ever harm Leonardo DaVinci again ever again, I will personally hunt you down and kill you in the most painful way possible. The same goes for your men. GET OUT OF HERE, STRONZO!" He made a shallow cut in the guard's cheek, jumping off him gracefully to land beside Leonardo. The artist flinched away from him, holding onto himself as he cringed into the doorway.

Ezio sighed heavily, removing his hood, his hands covered in blood. Leonardo stifled a whimper. Ezio caught the soft noise and turned to him, his eyes still glowing from battle. Leonardo flinched visibly, hugging himself as Ezio smiled at him. The guard scrambled to his feet, turning tail and fleeing.

"Why are you scared, mi amico? I won't hurt you," he stuck out a blood-stained hand to the shaking artist, his smile faltering when the artist shook his head, long strands of blonde hair sticking to his face. He stared up at Ezio fearfully.

"Don't do that again, mi amore. I don't like it one bit, you know that," he whispered, his body quaking

Ezio nodded sympathetically, his hazel eyes holding regret and comfort. He gently placed a hand on Leonardo's shoulder, grimacing when the artist ducked away from his grasp.

"I apologize, mi amico, I will never do it again...when..." he bit his lip. "When in your presence," he muttered, giving a slight bow to Leonardo. The artist kept his head down as he allowed Ezio to lead him into his study, a hand placed at the small of his back. The smell of blood curled in his nostrils unpleasantly, making him nauseous. He raised a hand to his mouth, refraining from vomiting. Ugh, he hated being weak...

"Leonardo...? Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine, mi amore...I just need some water, si?"

Ezio nodded, helping Leonardo sit down in his armchair, before stalking into the tiny kitchen. Leonardo sigh shakily, resting his head on his fist, his eyes half-lidded.

He respected Ezio deeply, and loved him dearly. He was honored to be his friend and his consolation. But he hated it when Ezio killed when in front of him. Their first encounter left Leonardo breathless, the scent of blood attacking his stomach and nose. Leonardo held his face in his hands, his stomach churning.

"Leonardo! Here's your...are you okay? Do you want me to fetch a healer?"

Leonardo shook his head slowly, looking up at the younger man with bleary eyes. He smiled weakly.

"Mi dispace, Ezio , I just have a weak stomach, it's nothing really."

Ezio stared down at him with worry etched on his features, his calloused fingers twisting together in anxiety. Leonardo's weak smile turned into a heated glare.

"I'm FINE , Ezio, really! It's nothing to worry your pretty little head about!"

Ezio reeled back, his eyes wide with shock. He twisted his fingers together nervously. He knew he had been the cause of Leonardo's change of mood, but it had been necessary! He was protecting him...

"Leonardo...please..." he reached out to touch the artist, but his hand was smacked away.

"Don't touch me! You're covered in blood!" the artist cried out, his blue eyes flaring. He glared down at the droplets of blood that mingled with the paint-stains on his blouse. He shook with anger and disgust.

"Why must death follow wherever you go? Why must misfortune and sadness trail in your steps?"

"I cannot help this, Leonardo!" Ezio snapped back, throwing his arms to his sides in anger. "I cannot deny this heritage, the blood and lineage that runs through my veins!"

"What about the blood that runs on your hands! You can help that!"

"I CAN'T!" Ezio shouted. "Believe me Leonardo, I have tried stay my blade from the flesh of the innocent! But I cannot help it! I just CAN'T! It does what need be! It does what must be done!"

"No! The blade has nothing to do with these needless slaughters! It only has to do with YOU," Leonardo jabbed a finger in Ezio's chest, his expression murderous. "YOU do what YOU think must be done! YOU hold the blade in YOUR hands. The lama condannata cannot stand up and go about killing people, can it? YOU kill these people, Ezio!"

"I kill for a cause!" he spluttered, his face turning red. He pointed scathingly at a half finished model of the flying machine. "What do you do, Leonardo! Sit here in this little workshop of yours, hole yourself up in here, and DRAW. What good does that do to Italia?"

"It gives soulless men like you a reason to live!" he shot back, raising his fist, bringing it down on what he hoped was Ezio's shoulder. The assassin caught his punch easily. He dragged Leonardo close, his face level with his, inches apart.

"I already HAVE a reason to live, Leonardo," he spat, tightening his hold on the artist's wrist. Leonardo hissed in pain.

"W-what may that be? Revenge?"

"No!" Ezio snarled, his finger-nails making crescent shapes in Leonardo's skin.

"Oh? Then tell, me, Messer Ezio, what reason do you live for? What drives you to these murders?"

"I do not have to explain myself to you, Leonardo."

"Well, then, you obviously have no other reason to live except to exact you revenge. That's what your denial is telling me."

"Fine!" Ezio hissed. "Let me tell you otherwise."

Leonardo opened his mouth to speak, but his words of anger were blocked by Ezio's own scarred lips. His eyes went wide. He struggled in Ezio's grasp, but the assassin curled an arm around his waist, his fingers tangled in the hem of his blouse. The younger man finally pulled away for a breath. Leonardo shouted up at him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!"

"Explaining myself to you."

"Pezzo di merda-! Nmph!" his mouth was quickly sealed shut by another kiss, the assassin growling into his mouth.

Leonardo pushed against Ezio's chest, his skin heating up.

/Oh god, oh god, oh GOD, I shouldn't be enjoying this!/ Leonardo shivered when he felt calloused fingers brush against the skin of his spine, making idle patterns. He gasped. Ezio quickly took advantage of his open mouth to sweep his tongue past Leonardo's lips, tracing the shape of his teeth, warring for dominance with Leonardo's tongue. The artist squeezed his eyes shut, tilting his head to the side, finally giving up.

/He won't let up...Might as well go along with it all./ he reached up with his free hand to tangle his fingers in Ezio's hair, pulling the blood-red ribbon out and carding his fingers through the silken strands. Ezio's moan reverberated in both their throats, a violent shiver wracking through the younger man.

They broke away, gasping for breath, their skin flushed. Leonardo swallowed, keeping his gaze fixed on Ezio's chest.

"Have I gotten through to you, or do I need to explain myself some more?" he hissed teasingly, lowering his head to the artist's exposed neck, drawing nonsensical patterns on the twitching skin the tip of his tongue. The artist shivered, his hands clenching into fists.

"I don't believe I understand you mean, Ezio, I think you need to explain yourself a bit more."

He felt the lips against his neck curve into an evil smile, felt the teeth exposed in a grin nip at his skin, making him squirm. He bit back the soft noise of pleasure, much to Ezio's resentment. He bit down softly on the lobe of the artist's ear, making him whimper.

"It seems that a lesson needs to be taught this little lion, no? The eagle is tired of playing games."