Fic: Ora riposa, Ezio

[ingenious_spark]

Title: Ora riposa, Ezio
Fandom: Assassin's Creed 2
Rating: PG13/T
Warnings: injury, medieval medicine
Relationships: Leonardo da Vinci/Ezio Auditore
Characters: Leonardo da Vinci, Ezio Auditore
Word Count: 1001
Summary: Leonardo is up late one night when a friend comes knocking, needing help.

Leonardo was downstairs, still awake, when he heard the soft creak in the floorboards above his head. It was Ezio’s little way of saying that he had arrived, stepping deliberately on that one squeaky board when he knew where all the creaks of the house were. Soon he heard the other coming down the stairs, and he looked up. Ezio was leaning heavily on the wall, blood dripping from where he clutched his ribcage.

Leonardo emitted a quiet, surprised noise, hurriedly setting down his woodworking tools and nearly bolting to the younger man’s side.

“Why are you here, not at the dottore?” He asked roughly, guiding Ezio with surprising gentleness, considering the tone of his voice, to sit on a sturdy wooden chair. Without waiting for a response (didn’t really think he’d get one, with how Ezio was looking, all dazed from blood loss) he started undoing the assassin’s armor and clothing. Ezio blinked tired eyes at him – probably he hadn’t even comprehended the question.

(He’d thought of this before, dreamed about it, but not in this way, not with Ezio leaning against him, blood seeping though his fingers, too weak to do it himself.)

He gently moved Ezio’s fingers, not liking the wince and the sudden gray pallor of his face when his did so, but he tried to do it gently, as he undid the ties and slid tunic and shirt off of sun-browned shoulders. He grabbed a nearby drop cloth from the pile on his workbench, still ever so slightly damp from a recent washing, and wadded it up into the wound, pressing Ezio’s hand over it to keep it in place.

“I need to get some equipment. Keep holding that in place, sì?” He instructed. He moved his own hand away, satisfied when Ezio’s did not fall from the cloth. He hurried about, finding needles, strong, linen thread, bandages, scissors, and salve that a client had given him of yarrow and sage. He deposited it in an untidy jumble on the workbench beside Ezio, before hurrying away again to heat up a copper pot full of water and find some clean cloth he wouldn’t miss. He lit a candle and brought it, the cloths and the hot water, setting them down before his friend. He grabbed a low stool and sat before gently moving Ezio’s hand and the bloody cloth away from the wound.

“I- I- ah!” Ezio stuttered, breathing sharply as Leonardo started to gently cleanse the wound so that he could properly sew it up.

“Calma, Ezio.” He murmured absently, wincing at the dull white shine of bone visible through the blood and sliced muscle.

“I d-don’t trus-sss-t them.” Ezio panted out above him. Leonardo blinked at the seeming non-sequitur, but then realized it was the answer to the question he’d asked earlier. His face softened, and he reached up briefly to cup Ezio’s cheek.

“I am honored, amico mio.” He said quietly. “I must sew your ribs up. I probably needn’t tell you that this will hurt.” He said, and pulled the thick leather thong out of his hair. “Here, bite on this.” He said, gently wedging it between the younger man’s teeth. He quickly threaded a needle and positioned the candle for the best light before pulling Ezio’s arms up and resting them on his own shoulders so that he could access the wound. He passed the needle carefully through the candle-flame, and then, before he could back out, started sewing up the gash.

It was a rather arduous process, as Ezio tried not to flinch, and Leonardo tried to both go quickly and neatly. Soon it was over, and Leonardo cleaned off the blood again and gently applied a thin layer of the salve before padding and bandaging the wound. He stood, and gazed at Ezio for a moment. There was a small cut on his cheekbone, and blood dripping down the line of his jaw. Pain and exhaustion had colored deep bruises under his eyes, etching lines into his youthful face. Yet even draw to his last thread he was beautiful. Leonardo couldn’t help it; he stepped up and cradled Ezio’s head in his hands, pressing a loving kiss to the younger man’s brow. Ezio’s bloody hand came up to grasp his wrist, seeking comfort with touch.

“Ora riposa, Ezio.” He murmured. “Dio knows you’ve earned it.” There was a weak nod from the younger, and Leonardo turned to the fire, setting another pot of water on to boil with willow bark and valerian. Then he poured some clean water into his pot, and ran upstairs for a pair of clean pants for Ezio. He gently helped Ezio clean off all the blood and grime of the day and helped him into the pants, bandaging up a shallow cut on his thigh and dabbing ointment on the cut on his cheek.

By the time the tincture was ready, Ezio was nearly falling off his chair. Leonardo steadied him, gently assisting him to drink a cup of it to ease the pain and help him sleep. Leonardo wasn’t sure that in his current state Ezio really needed the second part, but Leonardo had always had a hard time sleeping when he hurt, so he figured that it really couldn’t hurt. He got the cup down him and then gently picked the other man up. He was heavy, but Leonardo was stronger than he looked – stronger than his official profession as a painter belied.

He maneuvered his way up the narrow flight of stairs as carefully as he could, and laid the younger man to rest on Leonardo’s bed. There was a cot downstairs he could use, but he wanted to keep an eye on his friend. Leonardo dithered for a few moments, before deciding that he would clean up his mess, and tend the fire, then come back and check on his friend.

Morning light found the two of them carefully curled around each other in a deep, peaceful slumber.