Fic: Accosting Musicians
Title: Accosting Musicians
Fandom/Pairing: AssCreed II, Ezio/Random Bard
Rating: Uhhh PG?
Summary: Ezio's relationship with the bards is complicated.
A/n: Started as an attempt to fill a prompt, until I actually read the entire thing and realized I was off base.
Ezio's relationship with the bards is complicated. He loves to watch them harass passerby from a safe perch three stories up. He loves to sic them on guards in the plaza, and enjoys their competitions for custom with the whores who choose to linger nearby. They are spritely men, exhaustingly enthusiastic, almost as persistent in stalking their prey as he.
But he dreads crossing their territory on the street level. He worries about coming upon one when he is tailing a target. He has nightmares about being circled by them in numbers.
He punches them sometimes. Or knocks their lutes from their hands with calculated shoves. On days when he feels truly magnanimous, he will dart around them; he refuses to pay them.
Sometimes he will choose to leap into a canal rather than deal with them.
Pick-pocketing them is a satisfaction that he will never tire of.
He is crossing a square one misty, humid morning, taskless and in a mood to wander. One of the musical devils accosts him as he has almost made it to the next avenue.
Content to avoid violence for the moment, he stands and does not challenge the bard's insistence.
The man looks surprised around the eyes as he sings, but his fingers strum steadily at his instrument. Until, probably not halfway through his song, he tapers off and blinks at the assassin, a picture of hilarious befuddlement.
Ezio barks laughter, and slaps a hand companionably on the little man's shoulder. The bard flinches, hugging his lute tightly to his front, but Ezio ignores this.
"Why did you stop?" The assassin grins, teasing the obviously bemused and slightly frightened musician.
"I--uhh. I haven't learned the rest." He stutters.
Ezio jerks him closer, fingers pressed into the meat of his shoulder. "Do you mean to say that, all this time, you all have been chasing me with unfinished ballads?" His smile is still good-natured, though more teeth are coming into.
The bard flushes, beginning to sweat. "I ca-cannot speak for my guild brothers." He yelps and fumbles the neck of his lute when Ezio pulls him away from the square and into a nearby dead end alley, one the bends into a conveniently gloomy alcove.
He backs the bard into weathered brick and further traps him with hands planted on either side.
Ezio grins at his quarry, his wide-eyed and shaking little rabbit. He leans in to place his lips to the other man's ear, letting the heat of his body raise the temperature of their little niche and purring contentedly at the flush he can see climbing the man's neck. He watches the soft pulse-point in his throat thumping faster and faster.
"I never give you money. Any of you." He points out, running the tip of his nose into the bard's hair as the man gasps and tries to flatten himself against the brick.
Ezio nips the curve of one ear. "A man begins to wonder if florins are the true goal."
The bard gulps loudly and almost drops his instrument. Ezio grips the neck over the musician's hand to steady it, and considers his catch. He places a chaste kiss between round eyes, and decides he's frightened the little man enough for the morning.
"I would hear the conclusion of your song, my friend." He tells the bemused bard. "Only, I beg, not when I am in pursuit of a kill."
The bard stutters.
Fandom/Pairing: AssCreed II, Ezio/Random Bard
Rating: Uhhh PG?
Summary: Ezio's relationship with the bards is complicated.
A/n: Started as an attempt to fill a prompt, until I actually read the entire thing and realized I was off base.
Ezio's relationship with the bards is complicated. He loves to watch them harass passerby from a safe perch three stories up. He loves to sic them on guards in the plaza, and enjoys their competitions for custom with the whores who choose to linger nearby. They are spritely men, exhaustingly enthusiastic, almost as persistent in stalking their prey as he.
But he dreads crossing their territory on the street level. He worries about coming upon one when he is tailing a target. He has nightmares about being circled by them in numbers.
He punches them sometimes. Or knocks their lutes from their hands with calculated shoves. On days when he feels truly magnanimous, he will dart around them; he refuses to pay them.
Sometimes he will choose to leap into a canal rather than deal with them.
Pick-pocketing them is a satisfaction that he will never tire of.
He is crossing a square one misty, humid morning, taskless and in a mood to wander. One of the musical devils accosts him as he has almost made it to the next avenue.
Content to avoid violence for the moment, he stands and does not challenge the bard's insistence.
The man looks surprised around the eyes as he sings, but his fingers strum steadily at his instrument. Until, probably not halfway through his song, he tapers off and blinks at the assassin, a picture of hilarious befuddlement.
Ezio barks laughter, and slaps a hand companionably on the little man's shoulder. The bard flinches, hugging his lute tightly to his front, but Ezio ignores this.
"Why did you stop?" The assassin grins, teasing the obviously bemused and slightly frightened musician.
"I--uhh. I haven't learned the rest." He stutters.
Ezio jerks him closer, fingers pressed into the meat of his shoulder. "Do you mean to say that, all this time, you all have been chasing me with unfinished ballads?" His smile is still good-natured, though more teeth are coming into.
The bard flushes, beginning to sweat. "I ca-cannot speak for my guild brothers." He yelps and fumbles the neck of his lute when Ezio pulls him away from the square and into a nearby dead end alley, one the bends into a conveniently gloomy alcove.
He backs the bard into weathered brick and further traps him with hands planted on either side.
Ezio grins at his quarry, his wide-eyed and shaking little rabbit. He leans in to place his lips to the other man's ear, letting the heat of his body raise the temperature of their little niche and purring contentedly at the flush he can see climbing the man's neck. He watches the soft pulse-point in his throat thumping faster and faster.
"I never give you money. Any of you." He points out, running the tip of his nose into the bard's hair as the man gasps and tries to flatten himself against the brick.
Ezio nips the curve of one ear. "A man begins to wonder if florins are the true goal."
The bard gulps loudly and almost drops his instrument. Ezio grips the neck over the musician's hand to steady it, and considers his catch. He places a chaste kiss between round eyes, and decides he's frightened the little man enough for the morning.
"I would hear the conclusion of your song, my friend." He tells the bemused bard. "Only, I beg, not when I am in pursuit of a kill."
The bard stutters.