[fic] [ENG] [Cesare] - A dark and stormy night
fandom: Cesare - Il Creatore che ha Distrutto
rating: pg13, gen
pg/pair: Cesare & Miguel
disclaimers: disclaimed!
notes: for gondolin_dima, who asked me to write more about this headcanon. || Original italian version.
teaser:
At 16, Cesare is still afraid of thunderstorms.
A dark and stormy night
“An assassin?”
“An assassin”, Cesare confirms.
“In your closet”.
“In my closet… hiding under my bed… lurking outside my window…. One can never know!”
Miguel crosses his arms. “I doubt anyone would lurk outside your window. Not in this weather”, he nods towards the courtyard.
“They are assassins, Miguel!”, Cesare insists. “You should know how devote to their cause they can be”.
Miguel sighs, slams shut the closet’s doors, and goes down on all fours to take a look under the bed. “And the supposed instigator of this assassination would be…?”, he asks, amused. When he tests them, the iron bars on the window refuse to budge.
Cesare carefully sits on the edge of the bed. “The Orsinis”, he answers. “Or the Della Roveres. The Colonnas, perhaps…. I have a lot of enemies”, he adds, weakly.
A lightning. By reflex, Cesare brings his knees close to his chest. Miguel bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to laugh. “Yes, you have a lot of enemies in high places”, he provokes him.
Cesare, for lack of a better word, growls. “Your job would be to protect me!”
“Protect you from what…? Thunderstorms?”
“That too!”
As if for dramatic effect, a thunder shakes the walls; Cesare tightens the covers around himself.
It’s a sight Miguel will never get used to: his Master, now a grown-ass man, acting like a scared child because of some clouds. Of course, knowing him, Cesare almost certainly believes light and thunder to be some sort of sign from God. Miguel has never been very fond of astrology and, ultimately, he doesn’t know whether to find the scene in front of him amusing or pathetic.
He pulls close the curtains and tiptoes barefooted towards the bed. “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt”, he lies.
Cesare opens his mouth, ready to make some kind of objection; then he does a double-take and pulls the sheets back. “You shouldn’t even think about questioning my orders”, he reminds him, frowning.
Miguel lays beside him and brushes his cold feet against his calves. Startled, Cesare gives him the evil eye in return.
“I could always go back to my own room, you know”, Miguel teases him. “Where I was sleeping. And had better company”.
No answer. Cesare puts out the candle and lays his head on the mattress. “Of course. Whatever you say”, he rolls onto his back.
In the silence that follows, the sound of rain becomes more and more difficult to ignore. Cesare moves to the left and tries to entangle their legs together, looking for warmth,… or maybe comfort.
It’s all too tempting for Miguel not to take advantage of: “Ooh, My Lord and Master wants us to cuddle?”
“Don Michele, shut up or I’ll have you killed”.
“But I am the one who kills people for you, Lord Cesare!”, he grins.
“…”
“…”
“…I hate you”.
“Not really”. Miguel rolls on his side, his right arm under the pillow and his left one wrapped around Cesare’s torso.
“You are a disgrace”, Cesare informs him, laconic, already half asleep.
Miguel smiles against the curve of his neck.
On AO3.
rating: pg13, gen
pg/pair: Cesare & Miguel
disclaimers: disclaimed!
notes: for gondolin_dima, who asked me to write more about this headcanon. || Original italian version.
teaser:
At 16, Cesare is still afraid of thunderstorms.
A dark and stormy night
“An assassin?”
“An assassin”, Cesare confirms.
“In your closet”.
“In my closet… hiding under my bed… lurking outside my window…. One can never know!”
Miguel crosses his arms. “I doubt anyone would lurk outside your window. Not in this weather”, he nods towards the courtyard.
“They are assassins, Miguel!”, Cesare insists. “You should know how devote to their cause they can be”.
Miguel sighs, slams shut the closet’s doors, and goes down on all fours to take a look under the bed. “And the supposed instigator of this assassination would be…?”, he asks, amused. When he tests them, the iron bars on the window refuse to budge.
Cesare carefully sits on the edge of the bed. “The Orsinis”, he answers. “Or the Della Roveres. The Colonnas, perhaps…. I have a lot of enemies”, he adds, weakly.
A lightning. By reflex, Cesare brings his knees close to his chest. Miguel bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to laugh. “Yes, you have a lot of enemies in high places”, he provokes him.
Cesare, for lack of a better word, growls. “Your job would be to protect me!”
“Protect you from what…? Thunderstorms?”
“That too!”
As if for dramatic effect, a thunder shakes the walls; Cesare tightens the covers around himself.
It’s a sight Miguel will never get used to: his Master, now a grown-ass man, acting like a scared child because of some clouds. Of course, knowing him, Cesare almost certainly believes light and thunder to be some sort of sign from God. Miguel has never been very fond of astrology and, ultimately, he doesn’t know whether to find the scene in front of him amusing or pathetic.
He pulls close the curtains and tiptoes barefooted towards the bed. “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt”, he lies.
Cesare opens his mouth, ready to make some kind of objection; then he does a double-take and pulls the sheets back. “You shouldn’t even think about questioning my orders”, he reminds him, frowning.
Miguel lays beside him and brushes his cold feet against his calves. Startled, Cesare gives him the evil eye in return.
“I could always go back to my own room, you know”, Miguel teases him. “Where I was sleeping. And had better company”.
No answer. Cesare puts out the candle and lays his head on the mattress. “Of course. Whatever you say”, he rolls onto his back.
In the silence that follows, the sound of rain becomes more and more difficult to ignore. Cesare moves to the left and tries to entangle their legs together, looking for warmth,… or maybe comfort.
It’s all too tempting for Miguel not to take advantage of: “Ooh, My Lord and Master wants us to cuddle?”
“Don Michele, shut up or I’ll have you killed”.
“But I am the one who kills people for you, Lord Cesare!”, he grins.
“…”
“…”
“…I hate you”.
“Not really”. Miguel rolls on his side, his right arm under the pillow and his left one wrapped around Cesare’s torso.
“You are a disgrace”, Cesare informs him, laconic, already half asleep.
Miguel smiles against the curve of his neck.
On AO3.