"Very funny Niccolo, perha..." But he never got to finish his sentence, as Machiavelli choose that moment to push Ezio, and the eagle and the strategist stumbled down into the water. Surprisingly it wasn't cold at all, but it was nearing the end of the summer, and the sun had been warming the water throughout the months.
Ezio surfaced gasping for air. Because he had been mid sentence he had fallen into the water without warning, he had been unprepared and oxygen-less. He looked around for his friend, but didn't see him.
He climbed on the only dry surface, what used to be an entrance to an inner bath. Completely out of sight of any curious civilians that might look down the Thermae, he decided to remove his armour and undo his outer tunic and hood leaving him in his shirt and pants. He hung them over a broken pillar to dry. He heard splashing sounds and noticed Machiavelli swimming to where he stood. He walked to the edge, and hold out his hand to help his friend out. "Tell me Niccolo, what was that about? If you're still upset about before.." his friend grabbed his hand and he used his strength to pull him out. "..then I assure you I'd never think of you.." He had been a little to enthusiastic, or his sly friend put a little force into it, but his friend stumbled and fell, dragging Ezio along with him and fell on top of him. "as.. my... enemy..?" Ezio hesitantly finished.

Ezio, womanizer since he could remember (There was this accident with the girl next door when he was 6, truly, nothing serious happened, he just wanted to know what was so different on girls, and their neighbors moving right afterwards was obviously just overreacting. Giovanni had pretended to be upset, but could not hide his grin even from his son. If anything, this only encouraged the young Florentine more to find out everything about the female half of the world population) was to say the least, confused with the feeling he felt right now. The water made sure the clothes stuck to Machiavellig, revealing just how muscular the man was.

The other way around, Niccolo had a hard time to not shred the wet and thus see-through shirt of his older, but still oh-so handsome, friend. He couldn't remember when it started, but he had known he was attracted to this man for a long time now. And though others could have him easily, (he envied the Sforza-whore, who Ezio would throw his own life away for, and conveniently had returned to Forli) he knew he didn't stand a chance with Ezio. But before he even realized it, he tangled his hand through the elder's hair, pulling out the ribbon that held his hair together.

"Niccolo...?" The Assassin asked, uncertainty in his voice. He could not lie, he liked the sensation. What was the younger man expecting him to do? What if this still was just a big elaborate joke?
"Chiedo scusa, my friend, I'm afraid you're even irresistible to me." Machiavelli pulled his hand back, and pushed with the other on the ground to raise himself. He walked to the pillar where the soaked clothes of his friend hung. "I'm sorry I got you soaked."

"You're not sorry" the other man purred. Yes, he truly purred. He had heard this tone before, and it usually was used when Ezio tried to get things... done.. with women. Was he actually using it right now? He turned around, just in time to have the older, but strong, man push him against the wall, and he felt the lips pressed against his. Surprised and pleased he moaned, feeling how the Assassin, opportunist as he was, used this moment to slip his tongue in. After a while the two had to part, and they both gasped for air they, as they found out, still needed.
"Ezio" Machiavelli sighed. He was very pleased with the sudden turn of events.
"We must get you out of these wet clothes, amico, or you'll catch a cold." Ezio tugged at the hem of Niccolo's coat.