Work Text:
He was bleeding.
Ezio figured as much, given that every labored step he took, the wound he sustained on his abdomen continued to leak out onto the dirty Venitian pavement. One calloused hand ran across the wall he leaned against, the sole thing keeping him upright, and the other gingerly clutched the wound, but it did nothing to stop the bleeding.
Of course, this was nothing new for the assassin. Ezio would get into a scuffle with some Borgia guards, Templars, whatever, procure a nasty lesion, stagger to Leonardo’s place, and the polymath would fix him right up no problem, not without chiding him for being so reckless. Ezio would laugh it off (if he could) and tell Leonardo that he shouldn’t worry so much. Leonardo would then go silent, his face darkening with apprehension, and he’d continue to dress Ezio’s wound until he was finished. Leo would then demand that Ezio stay put until the morning, as the best medicine for an injured man was rest, and on some occasions, Ezio would relent, but mostly, he would slip back into the night, taking care not to ruin Leonardo’s hard work, and his work did absolute wonders.
This time, however, he wasn’t so sure if Leo could fix this one as quickly as he usually did.
Once he found himself at Leonardo’s door, he lazily pulled down his hood and knocked twice, resting his head on the wood, breathing heavily. He was seeing double, drenched in sweat, and nausea tugged at the inside of his throat. He normally didn’t feel this terrible when he was injured like this, but he’s more than certain that damned guard nicked an organ of his. He closed his eyes to shut that idea out. Didn’t want to think about that. He already felt sick enough.
The door then creaked open, and there the painter stood, dressed down casually; just a simple tie up shirt, black breeches, and similarly colored hose. His straw blond hair fell delicately onto his shoulders, and his deep blue eyes widened in horror as he saw the man he held so dear in such a state as this.
“Ezio?!” He exclaimed, ushering the man inside, hastily closing the door and locking it.
“Hello… Leo…” Ezio weakly replied, and his head slumped forward with fatigue, and Leonardo quickly threaded his way under Ezio’s free arm, wrapping it around his shoulder, and grabbing the assassin by the waist, pulling him closer so as to keep him from collapsing.
“Were you followed?” Leonardo asked sharply, eyeing the door as he pulled Ezio towards the couch, lying him down and assessing the wound with diligence, and squeezed a hand over his mouth in alarm. “My God, what have they done to you?”
“Leo… Leo, I’m… it’s fine, it’s not--” Ezio cut himself off with a loud hiss when Leonardo placed his hands around the entrance, the sound snaking through his gritted teeth like sand, which did nothing to help the painter’s morale. Leo reached a thin hand up to brush away the strands of thick black hair sticking to Ezio’s face.
“Ezio, you’re practically melting . Hold on, I’m getting water and my supplies. Do not move.”
“It’s… not as if I can… you know,” the assassin breathed through a wry smile, of which Leonardo frowned at, and off he went into the depths of his cluttered workshop, the sounds of panicked rummaging and flowing water being the only noises Ezio could focus on. He stared blankly at the ceiling, his heavy-lidded eyes tracing the twists and turns of the grain adorned on the planks of wood that so steadily held the roof of Leonardo’s workshop over their head. Skillfully built , he mused to himself. Built with love, even.
Ezio then had another thought.
What if I died here?
Just...right now, bleeding out on my oldest and dearest friend’s couch? That’d be so impolite of me, but then again, when have I ever been courteous? I know I’m not all that old… nor am I that unhealthy, but if…if this is how I go, I wouldn’t mind all that much.
Ezio’s eyes slowly fluttered to a close, and he sighed deeply.
I hope my family won’t be too angry that I joined them so soon.
“Ezio? Ezio!”
The assassin grunted, furrowing his brows and opening his eyes, turning his head to see Leonardo standing above him with a bowl in one hand and a large brown box tucked under his other arm. The painter then smiled and sighed with relief, kneeling down next to the couch, and situated the needed items around him on the floor.
“You gave me quite the scare. Do try and stay with me, okay?”
Ezio nodded silently.
“I’m going to have to open your robes from the front for this. Is that alri--”
“No. No. I’ll do it myself,” Ezio grunted as he placed his elbows on the couch, trying to prop himself up, but the pain of the massive gash shot through his body like a bullet, and he yelped, falling onto his back, hand hovering over the wound.
“Ezio-- you claimed you could not move beforehand, and now here you are, trying to do so!”
“I… I just... don’t want to be a hassle--”
“You are a hassle, Ezio. Now let me take care of you. ”
The two stared at each other for a moment, complete and utter shock painting Ezio’s face. Leo was looking right back, as stern as ever, but those deep blue eyes were not filled with hate. No… they were filled with worry, annoyance, compassion, heartache, all sorts of turbulent things, but what Ezio decidedly took note of is that they were undeniably filled to the brim with love. Much like the love that built this workshop.
The assassin closed his mouth and shifted his head back towards the ceiling, feeling a different kind of heat rising in his cheeks.
“Okay. I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, my friend.”
Arduous and grueling hours of stopping the bleeding, cleaning, and sewing the wound shut, all while Ezio tried his damnedest to keep himself awake no matter how much it ached had long since passed. It was skillfully wrapped in layers upon layers of gauze, being that it was much deeper than the usual injuries he sustained, so Leo said. The assassin bobbed his head from side to side in agreement, saying that he very much felt like death when he appeared at Leonardo’s doorstep, and the two of them shared a small laugh. Leonardo’s face then fell from that bright smile of his that Ezio loved so much into an expression much more somber, and the assassin twisted his brows in concern.
“What’s the matter, Leonardo?”
“I…” the painter began hesitantly, wringing his hands together. He bit his lip and stared at the ground for a minute before he continued.
“What do I mean to you?”
Ezio stared at him, wide-eyed and aghast. What in the Hell kind of question was that?! If it were not for Leonardo, he wouldn’t be as strong or well-equipped as he is now in his assassin endeavors. If it were not for Leonardo, he would be bleeding out in an alleyway instead of neatly sewn up in this workshop of his. Without him, he would be weak and alone.
Weak and alone…
I often feel that my work lacks purpose. Bravery is not my strong suit. It’s not the machine’s fault, it’s mine.
Ezio placed his hand on his wrappings, his face melting into an apologetic gaze.
“Oh, Leonardo… I… My God, how could I not have known?”
Now it was Leonardo’s turn to be taken aback.
“You… How do you mean?”
Ezio sat up cautiously, positioning himself so as to face Leonardo head on.
“You are an absolute angel of a man for putting up with me for this long. The things you make for me, do for me, help me with… they are all so utterly invaluable… as are you. You yourself as Leonardo da Vinci… are my everything .”
Leonardo’s heart leapt, feeling the tension rise from his body and into the ceiling above.
“Ezio…”
“I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner. I never meant to make you feel like you were a means to an end.”
There were tears budding in Ezio’s eyes now, and he hastily raised his hands to wipe them away. How could he have been this selfish? To so readily dismiss the things Leonardo pours his heart and soul into for him? To take for granted how the painter made him smile and laugh so easily- made him feel so safe and comfortable in a world that felt like it was out to destroy him, how he so readily shared his newest ideas and creations with Ezio, even if the latter couldn’t keep up half the time. The assassin had never, ever, ever in his life known another man who made him feel the way Leonardo did.
“You are more than just a bale of hay for me to hide in when I need you.”
“...”
A quiet chuckle escaped from Leonardo’s now smiling lips. A few more shook his body, and then finally, the painter started to cackle, his melodic voice filling the air. He clutched his sides as he keeled over, and Ezio could feel his face heat up once more. Did he say something wrong?
“I- Leo, are you… did I…?”
“No, no, no, Ezio, you have done nothing wrong!” Leonardo giggled out, and waved his hand in reassurance, trying desperately to suppress the laugh bubbling within his stomach, but he couldn’t hold it in. Ezio rubbed the nape of his neck in quizzical embarrassment as he watched, wondering just what on Earth he said that Leo found so funny? After a few more agonizing moments for the assassin, Leo finally settled down, and he sighed, wiping his eyes with the palm of his hand, face flushed a vibrant pink.
“I really do appreciate what you said, truly. I’m so grateful that you care about me as much as you do, but of all the metaphors there are… you use ‘bale of hay ’?”
“It was the first one that came to mind!” Ezio exclaimed defensively, throwing his hands up in the air in a helpless manner. “It’s a means of escape I use all the time as an assassin! Hell, I even jumped into one earlier today before I got stabbed!” The eponymous assassin then crossed his arms and huffed, pursing his lips in a childish manner. “I’m trying to be genuine here.”
Leonardo barked out one last laugh at poor Ezio’s expense before leaving the chair he sat down in to rest to take his place at his side, sitting next to him. He rested a reassuring hand on Ezio’s shoulder and smiled warmly.
“I know you are, my friend. I am truly thankful. Really, I am.”
Ezio’s face lit up, and he returned that warm smile with a sheepish grin of his own.
“Are you? I’m… I’m glad.”
Leonardo hummed happily in response, gently rubbing Ezio’s shoulder. The painter then looked to the floor yet again, and Ezio braced himself for yet another difficult question.
“Ezio?”
“Yes, Leonardo?”
“Can you promise me that you’ll stay the night here... with me?”
Ezio just smiled.
“Of course I will. I promise.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Leonardo said quietly before pressing his lips against the assassin’s warm cheek.