InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "You are NOT the father"

ąųdįţǫŗę (mentori) wrote in valarlogs,
@ 2017-05-15 07:34:00

Entry tags:

!complete, elijah mikaelson, ezio auditore da firenze

Who: Elijah & Ezio
What: Ezio's had a cough, but of course didn't do anything about it aka the pneumonia from his dreams carries over
When: Early this morning
Where: Ezio's place, then the hospital
Rating/Warnings: Disgusting mucous and medical things
Status: Complete

The fever, the sickness in general, it came fast - and completely robbed Ezio of all his strength. He dreamed of ignoring it, and despite the disturbing tarot reading he’d experienced with Vanessa he ignored the symptoms in this world as well - the most obvious one being a rather strong cough that began as fairly benign (just a tickle in the throat, he swore!) and ended up deep and disturbing, like he was ready to hack up one of his lungs. Of course, ignoring even mild symptoms would end up being his downfall - he dreamed of himself as an old man, a stubborn old man who had things to do rather than worry much about his health. He may have been retired from the life of an Assassin but he had Sofia, his wife, who was much younger than him and still with a lot of vigor left in her. He also had his children Flavia and Marcello to raise; he wished to savor every moment with them, weighed down by the feeling that these moments would be his last - his own mortal clock was ticking, the grey peppered in his beard and in his hair giving him character but also a manifestation of the stress he’d endured throughout his life.

He began carving out a space in his study to write his memoirs in the year 1519, also spending his time tending to a vineyard - which was all he’d wanted, really. To retire and settle down this way.

Here, now, in a whole other universe - his eyelids felt heavy when he opened them, crusty and goopy. There was no other word for it, just goopy. Thus, he quickly shut them again and, around the teeth-chattering chills that wracked his body, he grabbed for the blankets on the bed. All of them. He did not care if Elijah was asleep and comfortable, Ezio needed these blankets. Now. His temperature was skyrocketing but he felt as cold as the arctic tundra, and the only way he’d move was if Elia had another dagger in his chest. Otherwise? No.

Elijah had noticed that Ezio wasn’t feeling well. There were some things drinking his blood could not necessarily fix. He waited to see if he would go to the doctor, casually mentioning it at least once, if not more. It was difficult to reason with him when he was being stubborn about something, however. Not that Elijah minded his stubbornness. It was that very stubbornness that made it difficult for Elijah to push him away earlier on. Still, it could be a little maddening on occasion.

Like now.

He couldn’t say he had been entirely asleep. He woke up on a regular basis to make sure that Ezio was still breathing, to make sure his heart was still ticking away just the same. He could hear the way he was breathing. He knew it wasn’t good.

At some point he’d drifted off again. He woke up to the feeling of blankets being pulled off and he turned toward Ezio, propping himself up on his elbow. “You are not well,” he started, able to tell from his heartbeat that he was not asleep. He could tell the difference now. Moving again, he reached out to lightly press the back of his hand to Ezio’s forehead, his brow furrowing with concern. “I don’t think we can ignore it anymore. You can’t out stubborn this.” The calm in his voice was only there because he had years of experience with being the calm sibling when everyone else was not calm. He could only hope he hadn’t been an idiot not to press the issue before.

The fever was new (could you fry an egg on his forehead?), the chills were new, the feeling that his eyeballs were burning up in his skull was also new - but Ezio was not going to acquiesce so easily. Mostly he had been hoping that if he ignored the cough it would go away (funny, that was the same thing the Ezio in his dreams thought as well) but it seemed to be getting worse. Of course Elijah noticed, but he’d taken up with a man who was so against going to the doctor it would perhaps give even a vampire grey hair.

Maybe it was a pride thing. A stubborn pride thing - or he simply despised being poked and prodded, despised hospitals in general. Yes, definitely that.

“I am fine, is just cold in here,” he grumbled, pulling the blankets tighter around himself so that he resembled an Italian burrito. He didn’t want to talk about his dreams, or the ominous warnings, or the fact that he was sick as a dog. “Go back to sleep.” Oh wait, he’d taken all of Elijah’s covers. “I have another blanket in the hallway closet.”

Elijah felt himself rolling his eyes. “You are not fine. You forget I have much better hearing than you and I know things.” He frowned. “You know that you either get to choose to go on your own or I will find a way to make you, correct?” He would not use compulsion. He could, of course, but he would not. It was impolite to use compulsion on people you cared about. Unless they asked you to. Not that his dream self worried too much about that. Apparently.

“If you do not get well, you may not get well. If you follow.” Which was to say he might die. Elijah (very kindly if he said so himself, and he did) did not mention that grief did not do good things for vampires, but that was because it would become more than grief. It would be stronger and the pain would last and overwhelm. “It’s unfair to deny me the privilege of seeing you age, darling. One might say it’s impolite. Poor manners.” He did try to keep his tone light and airy, to make it sound like some light teasing, but now that he’d thought about it, he couldn’t keep the concern and sadness out of his voice.

“So...are you going to agree and come with me or am I going to have to drag you out of your home and to the nearest hospital?” A pause. “If you choose to go on your own, however, we can discuss a reward for when you are less ill. Whatever you wish would be yours.”

If Elijah ever used compulsion on Ezio, he would grab his boyfriend’s nuts and twist - being mindraped was not romantic. Besides, Ezio wore the vervain bracelet pretty much all the time anyway. But now without compulsion as an option, that meant it was going to be extra difficult to get this blanket-shaped mountain to move.

“What, so it is about you,” he huffed, aware his words were not making sense. The fever was causing him to be so delirious, he would probably begin singing old songs he knew from the Renaissance, songs he used to play on his lute. And he’d be singing them badly. “I do not want a reward, I’m not a dog.” But he was sick as one.

And he was also curious about the reward. That could be fun.

Shoving the covers aside, another chill had him shivering so hard he was sure the bones of his skeleton clacked together and he tried to stand. That was when he started coughing, however, deep and rattling coughs as if he had a smoking habit for decades. “Merda,” he swore, wheezing, and jumping off to hobble into the bathroom. This was just plain embarrassing.

Elijah pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. That is not what I meant.” He had perhaps not thought through things entirely. Still, he knew that Ezio needed to go to the hospital. He wasn’t able to fix this. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. So he had to do the only thing he could do, he had to get Ezio to the hospital where someone could help him. “I am aware you are not a dog. You are the man I love and I am worried about you.”

The coughing made him worry even more. He got out of bed, following him, but standing by the door. “Please.”

What he was coughing up was not pretty - disgusting green mucous, mostly, but also blood. That was what made Ezio think that it was more serious than he wanted to believe and not just a flu. However. “It is just a flu,” he croaked out after spitting in the toilet (honestly, and Elijah still wanted to be with him after that? Must be what ‘through sickness and health’ meant), throat raw and sore and making him sound like he’d gargled with glass.

But it wasn’t. It was the chest infection he’d been afflicted with in his dreams, the one that made him tired and run down, sapped his energy and eventually his life. He knew he was going to die from this, he just hadn’t remembered that part yet. It was why he’d started writing his memoirs, wanting to put into words how painful and extraordinary his life had been and wanting to tell his family they’d been his strength.

His chest though. Amazing he’d managed to function in his other life when he felt such stabbing discomfort - it came and went, in the dreams, but now it was like he’d been impaled with his own sword, and he braced one hand on the bathroom counter, leaning there. “I am not going to the hospital, Elia.”

Not like he could really fight off any attempts to physically drag him though, he was that ill.

Elijah didn't point out that this was most certainly not the flu. He didn't need to see the blood to know it was there. He prides himself on giving him plenty of chances to go on his own and quit being a stubborn ass. Which meant it was time for another tactic.

He took a moment to quickly change into jeans and a t-shirt (yes, he had them. He just didn't usually wear them ever, but dire circumstances and not wanting to go to the hospital in his pajamas was a thing. Okay, he may have just recently purchased them for the sake of surprise, but it was useful enough now.) and quickly returned to the bathroom door.

“I'm afraid you are.” He picked Ezio up like he weighed nothing and started for the door, grabbing his car keys as he did. “You may not thank me now, but later...perhaps you will at least forgive me,” he said as he sat him in his car and buckled the seatbelt. Elijah quickly move to his side of the car and got in, locking the doors.

“Che stai facendo?!” Ezio stuttered miserably. Before he could even think straight, or really register what was happening, he was in the car. If he had been feeling less like death, he would have bolted out the door before Elijah even got to the driver’s side but, such as it was, all he could do was slump pathetically in the passenger seat. “I will stab you later,” he grumbled. “You are lucky I did not throw up on you.”

Because really. He was fine, mostly? There was no need for all this fuss over him and cazzo, if his family found out about this they would no doubt call him the most stubborn fucker in the world. And they would not be wrong.

He was still coughing, finding it difficult to breathe - Elijah better go fast, let’s just say. “You will be this age - “ Cough, cough, “...forever and you have - “ Hack, “...such an old man car.” Wheeze. Surely this was not attractive. “It is freezing,” stated as he turned the heater up to full blast, even with a temperature that was making him all shades of cranky and not lucid.

Elijah let out a breathy laugh. “If you must. Lucky for both of us, I will survive.” His nose wrinkled at the mention of throw up, however. No one needed to be thrown up on. No one. “Suddenly I'm glad I did not wear a suit if you are going to throw up on me.”

Truthfully, Elijah wasn't paying much attention to the speed limits because he was acting as a personal ambulance without all the extras. He'd pay whatever fines he had to later if it came to that. He didn't really care. “You are going to spend all your energy insulting my car?” He shook his head. This was the sort of person he'd end up with. Headstrong, stubborn, and rude when it came to his car.

It took longer for him to get to the hospital than he wanted it to, but he pulled the car at the emergency entrance, putting the car in park, he got out and walked around the car to get Ezio out of the car and take him and into the hospital. He'd answer whatever questions they needed him to.

Hospitals, ugh. They were so sterile and smelled like antiseptic - Ezio didn’t have it in him to put up much of a fight so here he was. Since he couldn’t exactly breathe (his lips were turning blue, in fact - not a good sign) he was tended to right away (leaving Elijah with the admittance paperwork - fun!), on oxygen and poked and prodded just as he feared he would be. Only so the doctors could determine what caused his particular strain of pneumonia.

Except it crossed over from a dream likely was not the best explanation. He kept his mouth shut, far too sick to give many fucks about what they found when they swabbed at his throat and took his blood.

Eventually he was put into a room though, hooked up to IV drip of various fluids, and started on antibiotics. Modern medicine. What a wonderful thing - he may have even survived the infection in his dreams, if antibiotics had been available.

He was so sleepy lying here, fatigued from getting no rest and coughing so much - his body ached and the hospital bed was uncomfortable, but he planned to charm some nurses out of something decent from the cafeteria (was there anything decent?). For now, he just struggled to stay awake because he wanted to see Elijah before he passed out and slept for at least ten hours.

It was perhaps unsurprising that Elijah didn’t mind paperwork. The only real problem was that he was concerned about Ezio and paperwork did take time and kept him from knowing exactly what was going on. He couldn’t exactly compel and answer questions at the same time. Of course, he had to move his car out of the way, which was more time not spent make sure Ezio was at least somewhat comfortable. You could only do so much at hospitals.

Once he found his way to the room, he felt a little more at ease. At least he was going to get the care he needed. He may stab him later, but Elijah could live with that. Worse things had happened anyway. The important thing was that he didn’t die. “It’s probably in poor taste to say I told you so, but under the circumstances…” He left the words implied, but he took one of the seats next to the bed and sat down, taking one of Ezio’s hands in his own. “Sleep. You’ll need your rest. I’m not going anywhere.” At least not now. He’d text Rebekah and ask her to bring a few changes of clothes. Perhaps he would have to leave to go to work, but he would keep his phone on him and check in.

Later he might also have to contact anyone Ezio needed him to contact, but he didn’t have to do that this minute. For right now, he’d just sit here and keep an eye on Ezio and hope that he’d start to feel better soon.

Ezio wouldn’t stab his vampiric partner, but he did roll his eyes. Of course the first words out of Elijah’s mouth would be ‘I told you so.’ Well. He just was stubborn enough to think the infection or virus or whatever it was would run its course, so what? Except Ezio probably would not have survived, he realized that. It really would have been terrible to deprive Elijah of his dashing company so soon.

“Grazie,” he mumbled, eyes half-mooned, squeezing Elijah’s hand. Yes, yes, thank you for making sure he got proper medical care. These fucking dreams. “Ti amo, mio caro.”

He couldn’t stay awake for much longer after that, but his hand was still holding Elijah’s when he drifted off into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep.