Demi: This is what occurs when I can't actually write, but I can write. I can get half-thought, half-arsed random pieces of cac onto a piece of paper, but decent shite? No siree. But instead of letting these stew in my hard drive, I've decided to let them see light of day (or, computer screen, really); these are a select few, the best of the shit. The rest... I don't think you're gonna ever see. I may delete them.
Basically, each scene stands on its own. The timeline is irrelevant, unless stated. They may not make sense, but... sod it CB It's unbeta-ed, because I wanted to give sweetedge a break, and I want these to stay rough.
1) Perception
Vieri lay back on the bed, body sinking into the sumptuous cushions as he let out a sigh of contentment. His body buzzed in a muted way, mind fuzzy and hazy. He quite liked this state, not drunk, but certainly not sober. He was comfortably lazing in the middle ground; some would call him 'tipsy' or 'merry'—yeah, he liked 'merry', he was merry. Not a bad place to be really, particularly when he was nestled in a beautifully comfy bed, warm and- oh, where were the covers going?
"You cannot possibly sleep in all that," a voice murmured. Ah, Federico, that was right, he though as he let a smile laze across his face. "Let me help you."
"Mm," he hummed, half in approval of the idea, half in acknowledgement. Federico pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were taking advantage of my state."
"You don't know any better—you're drunk."
"I'm not drunk, idiota," Vieri muttered, brow creasing as that fuzzy feeling started to leave, being replaced with agitation. He could feel Federico stripping him, but couldn't find the energy to look or do anything about it. "You must be a fool of an assassin if you cannot tell the difference between drunk and... happy."
"You're happy, eh?" Federico commented, grinning.
"Quite... and I blame you..."
He felt Federico falter in his disrobing, but quickly resumed. Soon, Vieri was fully exposed to the chilly night air that drifted through the open window; he shivered and rolled onto his side, curling in on himself and biting back a moan. Warmth, though, was thrown over him in the forms of the covers and Federico's body, as his arms enveloped him, front pressing against his back.
"I know you were talking about being tipsy and the fact I supplied the wine, but... can I pretend, just for tonight, that when you said you were happy, you... weren't talking about drink?"
Vieri rolled over in his arms and buried his face in Federico's warm neck, slurring a, "Whatever... now let me fuckin' sleep..."
2) Notes on a Scandal
Leonardo was, without a doubt, a sufferer of chronic procrastination. The man could put things off for days and months, up until the night before its due date; sometimes, things never got accomplished. But there were some times when Ezio would drop into his workshop and find the man busily working on something that wasn't expected for a long while or wasn't even expected. Usually this occurred after the artist was granted a large boost of inspiration, one which he would take advantage of; if he didn't, things would never, ever get done. At all.
This was one of those times.
The artist was bent over a canvas—not in the good way, Ezio noted sulkily—and working swiftly on a landscape picture, using various sketches from his many notebooks to help him. The assassin was, in the meantime, attempting to pass the time by wandering around the cluttered workshop, trying not to disturb anything. Whilst it was messy, it was truly organised mess; Leonardo could find a desired object in a mere heartbeat. The only time he couldn't find something in the piles of mess was when he was flustered or panicking, something Ezio couldn't help but find truly adorable.
His leather-covered fingers skimmed over a cream-coloured notebook and suddenly, he felt insanely curious about its contents. With one quick look over his shoulder, he flicked the cover open.
'The moon is dense; anything dense is heavy: what is the nature of the moon?'
Ezio's eyebrows rose in silent admiration. He snuck another look over his shoulder at the busy man, lips quirking upwards. Such a clever man, he thought idly; a genius.
'Describe how the clouds are formed and how they dissolve, and what causes vapour to rise from the waters of the earth into the air, and the causes of mists, and of the air becoming thickened, and why it appears more or less blue at different times...Describe the tongue of the woodpecker... Describe what sneezing is, what yawning is, the falling sickness, spasms, paralysis, shivering with cold, sweating, fatigue, hunger, sleep, thirst, lust...'
Yet another glance over his shoulder at Leonardo. Ezio shook his head. Not only was Leonardo a genius, but he was a relentlessly curious man, and the assassin knew that such curiosity would never disappear. Leonardo was constantly searching for answers to questions never asked.
Ezio continued to flick through the worn, ink-stained pages, eyes sweeping over half-finished sketches and poems, diagrams and explanations; it was like looking into Leonardo's mind. It was all jumbled and disjointed, everything stop-start and random—nothing had order in this notebook. But that was Leonardo. He had a charming child-like quality to his personality, something that never failed to bring a smile to his face upon thinking about it.
'Describe,' another note read, 'what makes lust grip a man, sometimes to the point where he is more animal than man, how the mind can win the battle against the body when it comes to carnal desires, how-'
"Ezio, are you reading one of my books?" Leonardo asked from across the workshop.
"Of course not," Ezio mumbled back, distracted by a single scrawled sentence at the bottom of the page:
'Describe what arouses Ezio Auditore.'
A grin stretched scarred lips. "Ey, amore mio, I think I can answer one of the questions in your book."
"So you were reading! Ezio Audi-"
Leonardo did not complain for much longer, it would seem.
3) Morning Glory
Vieri de'Pazzi was not someone you wanted to wake up. Coming round from unconsciousness on his own, he was perfectly fine. Being roused unwillingly from slumber... well, that set Vieri up for the day – a very unpleasant day.
Federico, the bastardo, usually woke him up, when he was around, in a variety of fashions; some nice—teasing kisses and nuzzling to his neck or, say, having his cock sucked—whilst some methods were not so nice—once he was woken up rather quickly when Federico sunk his teeth into his behind. Even when he was brought round by the 'nice' methods—waking up to find Federico's head between his legs was great way to start the day—Vieri still grumpy when he was dragged from his sleep. He was not a late riser, since he did have duties to fulfil, but he was certainly a later riser than Federico; the damned assassin was awake long before the crowing cockerel even got his act together.
But this particular morning, he blearily opened his eyes of his own accord, ears slowly tuning into the sounds of the city outside his ever-open window. Stretching a little, he looked over to the other side of the bed, taking in the sight of Federico's tanned and toned back; the man was still asleep, despite the fact it had to be the middle of the morning—the noise level outside indicated that first mass had ended. It was completely unheard of for Federico to sleep in.
He nudged the younger male. "For the first time, I'm waking you up."
Federico mumbled something.
"What?"
The other cleared his throat before saying, voice hoarse, "Congratulations."
"Urgh..." Vieri screwed his face up. "You sound horrible."
Federico said nothing; Vieri frowned.
"That was your chance to tease me or something."
"I know," the assassin whispered.
The older male leant over and pressed the back of his hand to the other's forehead. He wasn't feverish, thank God. He didn't need a feverish Federico; the last time that had happened it was a pure disaster.
"Well, you're not hot," Vieri muttered. There was a moment of silence where he waited for the witty retort, but it never came. "Jesus Christ," he snapped, throwing his side of the covers off and grabbing a pair of breeches and a shirt. "Grow some balls, you're not seriously ill. You're not going to die."
"I feel like shit," Federico rasped.
"You look like it. All the time, I hasten to add."
"Mio caro..."
Vieri huffed. Secretly, he was pleased at hearing that whinging moan. It meant he was not feeling too bad; he was obviously well enough to use those pet names Vieri hated. Plus he had that damn tilt on his lips that always meant a smirk was on its way.
"What exactly is wrong with you?"
Federico raised his head slightly from the pillow and rolled onto his back. "Throat," he rasped. "Head hurts... I just need to sleep it off."
"Like hell," Vieri hissed, pulling his tunic on and opening the door. "You sleep for longer than strictly necessary and your brother will think I've killed you."
"Where are you going?"
"To send for a doctor, idiota."
"Kiss goodbye?"
Vieri sent him a harsh glare.
"You won't get ill," Federico murmured. He spread his arms, beckoning. "I promise. You've slept in the same bed as me the whole night and you're not ill. A kiss from you will make me feel better."
The older male huffed and, despite his better judgement, walked back over to the bed, perching on the edge and leaning towards Federico.
"If I get ill, you will regret it, stronzo," he mumbled, before pressing his lips against Federico's.
The assassin groaned and immediately wrapped his arms around Vieri, who shivered. He tried to pull back, yet found he couldn't; not only was Federico holding him tightly, but the kiss was...nice. It was very nice. Slow and tender, for once not spoiled by an infuriating smirk from the younger male. The angle was awkward, however neither cared, mouths slipping against one another and tongues rubbing lazily. Vieri let a sigh escape, fingers tangled in Federico's thick hair, knowing he really shouldn't be kissing the other when he was ill, but he really couldn't care less at that point in time; although, his brow creased with a scowl when he felt one of Federico's hands crawl up his side, under the tunic and shirt, and went to grab his wrist to pull it away, but didn't get there fast enough to stop himself from letting out a startled moan when a thumb swept over his nipple.
He pulled away, Federico's wrist gripped tightly in his hand. Rolling his eyes, he muttered a "Stronzo" at the other's pleading gaze.
"If I was you, I'd get rid of that-" He pointed to the slight tent in the covers. "-Before the dottore gets here."
"You're not going to help?" Federico asked. At Vieri's blank stare, he slumped back against the pillows. "So harsh... This is such a shit morning."
"I think that every morning I'm woken up by you." Vieri once again opened the door. "I'll be back soon. Don't die in the mean time."
"I'll be thinking of you," Federico softly cooed, waggling his fingers.
Vieri snorted and slammed the door behind him. Damn him.
4) Method in the Madness
Usually, when Ezio knocked on Leonardo's door, it was either open or answered very swiftly. Sometimes, however, this was not the case, and Ezio was left standing on the artist's doorstep, hidden by the shadow of the porch as his mind whizzed over the possibilities of where the artist could be. At first, Ezio's stomach had churned with worry; maybe the guards had been alerted to the presence of the assassins or, God forbid, the Templars had found out.
But now, he knew better. With a grin, he quickly joined a small crowd of people—so he wouldn't be seen leaving the workshop—and followed them around the building until he could dart into a nearby alleyway; there, he climbed up the side of the building and up onto the rooftops, where he made his way back over to the artist's home. There was a window open—merda, why did he always leave a window open?—through which he climbed through.
Leonardo was, as he first suspected, asleep. Ezio let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. As he stripped off his armour—setting it down quietly on surfaces with a quiet clink, so not to disturb Leonardo—his ears picked up on the soft, slow breathing of the artist, as well as the slight bit of movement he made when Ezio knelt on the bed.
Grey eyes blinked open, blearily focusing on the simply-dressed assassin settling next to him. Leonardo smiled faintly and allowed Ezio to tug him close, happily breathing in spicy mix of cologne and sweat as their legs tangled together.
"You interrupted my nap," Leonardo mumbled.
Ezio pressed a kiss to his brow. "Then we'll just have to make up for it."
The assassin knew he would never fully understand Leonardo's little quirks, but the ones like these—dozing regularly during the day, even after siesta—he was happy to participate in and encourage. Leonardo had once told him that the mind was just as important as the body, and so required a break from the stresses of the day every so often; Ezio had laughed it off at first, waving it off as another one of the artist's crazy notions—like his dislike of eating animals—but after spending time with Leonardo, he realised there was always method in his madness.
Besides, it was even more foolish refusing to spend time with Leonardo in bed...
5) Lessons in...
Leonardo was furious. There was no other way of saying it.
They'd been looking for the boat to Venice; a simple task, really. In technicality, Leonardo was the one looking for the right boat—Ezio was in the town, finding them suitable lodgings. Or he was meant to be. Because Leonardo had just seen a large brown horse gallop past with a white-robed man on top who looked suspiciously like Ezio...
After speaking to a few women, who were complaining of such dangerous antics, he found out that a few others had recently rode past, using the same path as Ezio had; it was a race, apparently. And they nicely directed him to the finish line, where he found the assassin.
And a woman.
Of course.
"And for breaking the record, I'll give you those riding lessons you deserve," she all but purred.
Leonardo was about to leave, feeling extremely nauseous and quite rightly hurt, when he noticed how Ezio took a step back, only to be dragged closer towards her when she grabbed a hold of his collar. He reacted too quickly for even himself, striding forward; Ezio caught the movement in the corner of his eye and turned, expression made up of pure relief.
"Leonardo, amico mio," he called. He gently pried the woman's fingers off of his robes. "I was looking for you."
"Clearly," the artist replied evenly. "I found our boat, it leaves tomorrow. Have you found a room for us?"
"Si."
"Ah, then your fun and games are excused."
The woman let loose a small laugh, and stepped closer to Ezio. "Then that means you'll let him have more fun and games? Maybe you'd like to join in?"
"Ah, mi dispiace, but I must decline," Leonardo replied as politely as he could, smile strained.
"No matter. We will have fun anyway," the girl said with another laugh that grated on Leonardo's nerves. "I'm sure you are a fast learner when it comes to riding, signore."
"Ah, si, he was a natural when I taught him," the artist quipped. He pointedly stared at the girl, internally smiling when she faltered.
"I was not talking of-"
"Signora," Ezio cut in smoothly, taking her hand from his robes once again. "I'm afraid I must also decline."
"Oh? But why, maestro? I'm sure you will enjoy-"
Leonardo huffed; he'd finally had enough. "We are busy, and you are an unpaid whore. Now if you would be so kind as to leave us alone?"
The girl gawped and spluttered indignantly, staring up at Ezio for help, but he was staring intently at Leonardo, eyes full of pure amusement and lips twisted in a smirk beneath the shadow of his hood. After a moment or two, she turned and stomped off.
"Do you know," Ezio murmured, stepping closer to Leonardo, "how much I love you?"
"Sometimes." Leonardo flashed him a supposedly innocent smile. "Now, to our lodgings? I'm tired."
"Ah, but I was hoping you would give me a riding lesson, seeing as you scared my other teacher off."
If they weren't in public, Leonardo would have kissed that devious smirk off the assassin's face there and then.
6) Musn't Grumble
If there was one thing Vieri hated about Federico being in his room—if one ignored that cursed teasing—it was how the younger male would leave a mound of armour on the table near the window. The amount of protection that covered that man's body was ridiculous; Vieri sometimes wondered how he managed to carry it all, and still run across rooftops and whatever else he did apart from annoy Vieri.
Then he realised, when Federico continued to disrobe, how the assassin managed to do such a feat: the man had the body of a Greek god. Toned muscles rippled beneath a golden canvas of skin—Federico just oozed power. And sex.
Which is why Vieri never actually complained about Federico taking his clothes off in his presence.
Demi:
1) I actually wrote this in the state I have come to title as "merry". It's the state which many call tipsy, but I call it thus because I'm usually very happy when in this state. I'm very aware of my actions and I can control them, but if I'm left on a soft surface of any kind, I will start to feel very sleepy and probably start snoozing, cuddling anything within range. I gave Vieri this trait, since drunk-Vieri seems very adorable in my mind CB
2) The notes Ezio reads are all true - Leonardo did write them in his notebooks. Apart from the last one, about turning Ezio on, because if that had really been in a notebook, it would be very weird... (but not unwelcomed o3o )
3) Again, I used my own personal experiences to write this thing. I've been quite ill this past week with the shittest cold ever, and I decided to make Federico suffer too. Only, I don't have a Vieri to look after me. Fuck.
4) Again, this is fact! Leonardo da Vinci would take regular naps during the day. On average, if you totted up how much he slept and napped, he slept for half his life (estimated). He believed that the brain needed to rest as much as the body did. And it must have had some affect on his smarts, because he's a genius, and Einstein did the same - napped during the day, fifteen minutes per every four hours he worked - and look at him! God I love Stephen Fry and Qi for giving me useless information.
5) I don't know why, but I got really annoyed at Amelia and Ezio during that bit. Ezio, she was clearly a little slut, and a bad flirt at that. I was waiting for Leonardo to interrupt them, like he did with Rosa, but NO... BI
6) My favourite random o3o