Work Text:
It was late, far later than Leonardo usually ventured out on his own, but Salai was asleep and Leonardo needed a new pot of ink.
He had went into the market to find a still open shop, shelled out a few florins for a pot of ink, and was returning to his shop when he realized he was being followed. Quickly, he tucked the ink pot into one of the pouches on his belt, a gift from Ezio, and tried to make no sign that he heard his follower.
As Leonardo turned the corner, workshop in sight, the follower's footsteps picked up.
Leonardo's brilliant mind went to work and he pinned the man's height at around his own by the sound of his steps. Leonardo pressed the fingers on his hands together, forming cups.
When the man was three paces away, Leonardo ducked, turned, and slammed his cupped hands over his assailant's ears.
The man went down with a deafening howl, clutching at his ears, and Leonardo kicked him in the ribs as hard as he could.
"Stronzo!" Leonardo hissed with as much venom as he could muster through his fear. He checked his pouch to make sure his precious ink bottle was still in tact before fleeing down the lane.
When he turned back to make sure that the man was still incapacitated he smiled and, satisfied with the moaning and rolling that he saw, he slipped into the workshop.
To his surprise, Salai was standing at the bottom of the steps, curls a mess in the light of a stubby candle.
"Maestro? Are you okay? I heard yelling."
"Si, Salai. Return to bed, I must finish my work for the night," Leonardo said with a strained smile. His heart thundered in his chest so loudly that he was surprised that Salai didn't hear it.
The boy didn't look convinced but, mercifully, he turned and went back upstairs.
Leonardo sat heavily in his chair, looking down blindly at the charts he had been working on. His heart calmed slowly, but the thumping was replaced with an insistent prickly at the nape of his neck.
"Ezio," he said quietly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. There was an almost silent thud as Ezio landed on the floor from where he had come in through the window.
"I am losing my touch," Ezio said, voice hushed.
"No, I know what feeling your gaze holds, caro mio," Leonardo said, turning to the white clad assassin. "It's how I always know when you're here."
"I saw what you did to that man on the street," Ezio said. Leonardo sighed, both thankful and not for Ezio's straightforward thinking.
"Si."
"I did not know you could fight."
"From watching you train recruits." It was a shot in the dark, lying to his lover who saw everything but who missed so much.
"One does not learn by watching," Ezio said.
Leonardo laughed. "I am an artist, Ezio. I learn by watching my surroundings."
"And practice," Ezio insisted, and Leonardo tried to not let surprise show on his face when Ezio swooped down to be level with him, face inches from his own. "Where did you learn to fight like an assassino, amore mio?"
Leonardo swallowed slowly. He could lie. He could, but the truth would make Ezio angry. Withholding would only make it worse, and he knew that Ezio would pry until he found out.
"Your father, Ezio," Leonardo said quietly. "Trained me in the way of the assassino when I first agreed to work with him."
"You..." Ezio's face flashed with several emotions at once, and Leonardo prayed that he would settle on a good one. "You're one of us."
"Not officially," Leonardo offered lamely.
Ezio's eyes caught and held Leonardo's for a long moment, and Leonardo was afraid that he had upset him terribly. He had lied by omission. True though it may be that he had never killed anybody, he did work for the assassins, he was trained as an assassin, his hands had built things to kill and maime as much as they had made art.
The silence stretched on for so long that Leonardo began thinking of where he would go next when Ezio decided to be rid of him.
And then Ezio laughed.
It wasn't his usual quiet catch of breath, either. Ezio laughed so deeply and loudly that Leonardo feared he might wake the Borgia.
Or worse, Salai.
"What's so funny?!"
"My gentle, beautiful artist is... Is..."
"Capable of handling himself, si! Why is that funny?"
"You don't look like you could hurt a fly!"
"Scusami?" Leonardo squawked.
"You heard me, bello."
"The nerve. I am perfectly capable of handling myself in a fight, Ezio Auditore de Firenze, thank you very much."
"I have offended you."
Leonardo sniffed in his direction, not looking at him. In truth, Ezio had not upset him, but sometimes Leonardo enjoyed it when Ezio begged for forgiveness. It was endearing.
"Leonardo, bello, I didn't mean anything by it," Ezio said. "You are just too gentle in my eyes to do harm. You create such beautiful things."
"Pagano."
"Don't be like that," Ezio said. "Don't pout." He nudged Leonardo's chin towards his own face and then frowned when he saw that Leonardo was smirking.
"Stronzo," Ezio sighed. Leonardo kissed Ezio gently. "Bello."
"Oh just fuck already and shut up!" Salai called from his room.
"Isn't it past your bedtime, runt?" Ezio asked, glaring up at the ceiling.
"Isn't it past yours, vecchio uomo?"
"Okay, you two," Leonardo warned. "Ezio, can you stay the night?"
"Si. For you, my strong, beautiful artist, I can do anything."