[Vittorio X Ace] Language barrier
I've had this fic sitting in my drafts for one and a half years and finally got around to finishing it. I hope you like it 💕 Rated T | 6k words | ao3 link
Ace was whistling as he walked back from another successful trial.
The fully-stocked ranger medkit felt heavy in his hand and he couldn't wait to show off his latest haul. And people said looting chests was a waste of time!
When he approached the familiar glow of the survivors' campfire, however, there was no welcome committee to greet Ace after his spectacular escape from the Spirit's clutches. Instead, everyone was gathered around one of the logs, their postures tense and voices raised.
Ace frowned. Another fight? Damn, he really couldn't leave these people alone for five minutes.
Ace took a breath and steeled himself for facing the ire of whoever was responsible for the commotion this time.
"Children, children!" Ace exclaimed. "There's no need to fight: I love you all equally!"
Predictably, that got most people to shut up and two dozen heads whipped around to look at Ace.
But instead of the eye rolls or disgusted scoffs Ace expected, the survivors looked…relieved?
"Oh, thank god," Élodie sighed. "You're finally here."
Ace arched an eyebrow. The crowd started dispersing, like they had actually been waiting for Ace's arrival instead of being perpetually annoyed by his existence like usual, and Ace felt another tacky joke bubbling up—
And then he saw him.
The man was tall. He was muscular and tattooed, with silver hair and a calcularing stare, standing in the middle of the survivor campsite with his arms crossed over his broad chest. His leather jacket creaked from the movement, bulging biceps straining the material.
"Ace," Élodie said, grabbing his arm firmly. "We need your help."
Ace felt a smirk forming. "He's for me? Oh, Élodie, you shouldn't have."
Strangely enough, the new guy neither laughed nor sneered at Ace's remark. In fact, he didn't react in any way whatsoever, which was a little unnerving.
"Not the time," Élodie hissed. "He just got here, and he only speaks Italian. Please tell me you weren't lying when you bragged about being fluent in seven languages?"
Oh; that would explain the mild panic of his friends and utter indifference to Ace's charms from the stranger.
"Italian?" Ace grinned and shook off the woman's hold. "Say no more!"
He sauntered up to the new guy—shoving the medkit in a clueless Dwight's arms as he passed—and put on his friendliest smile.
"Ciao, stranger," Ace said, effortlessly switching to one of the four—not seven—languages he spoke. "I heard you could use some assistance?"
The scowl finally disappeared from that handsome face as the man perked up in recognition.
"I would be much obliged," Mr. sex-on-legs said.
And that was how Ace was roped in to play translator between the rest of the group and their newest arrival.
The man introduced himself as Vittorio Toscano: because of course, even his name was attractive.
Vittorio had apparently been wandering the fog a long time before finding his way here. This was only validated by the fact that he didn't seem at all phased when Ace—at the others' insistence—went over the basic “sorry you were kidnapped by some Lovecraftian god and are now gonna be hunted for sport for its amusement.”
"That doesn't exactly surprise me," Vittorio said. "After the things the fog has shown me…well, I concluded as much."
Ace should probably have been more curious about the…fog visions, or connections to the Entity, or whatever else Zarina and the others were screaming in his ear about once he translated that piece of information for them.
But he had a hunch. And after a lifetime of relying on it to survive, Ace's intuition was usually pretty good.
"So where exactly are you from? Before you got taken?" Ace asked.
"Gordega, Italy," Vittorio said. Then he sighed. "I'm sorry. I used to be a well-read man and be better at languages, but after so long, most of the knowledge has faded."
"Hey, I'm not complaining. Any of these people would tell you there's little I enjoy as much as running my mouth—and now there's actually someone who listens!"
"Nevertheless, I appreciate the help." Vittorio glanced around at the group still gathered around them, patiently waiting for new information. "So ask away. I know you all have questions."
"Yeah, speaking of…" Ace said. "When are you from?"
Vittorio smiled ruefully. "1391."
Though Ace had suspected it was coming, the admission still took him by surprise. Here this man was, looking like he’d jumped right out of some modern alternative fashion spread, casually telling Ace that he was actually over six hundred years old.
And the weirdest part was that Ace believed him.
"What? What did he say?" Meg bounced restlessly in her seat.
Because Ace being stunned speechless was actually a little worrying, all things considered. He didn't even know how to begin to convince the others of Vittorio's past.
"Thirteen…" Jonah spoke up. "The 14th century!?"
But fortunately, Ace didn't need to. Because while Italian and Spanish were different languages, there were enough similarities for certain math nerds to understand numbers.
"What!?" Élodie exclaimed, then looked at Ace for confirmation.
"Yeah, uh," Ace said. "Our new friend seems to be of the vintage variety."
That was when the arguing started again.
And after the shouting matches were done, when Yui was glaring at Vittorio and ordering Ace to “tell him we don't trust him”…
Ace only smiled at the new survivor and said, "She says she's jealous of your stylish outfit."
Vittorio huffed a dry chuckle. "Is that so?"
Ace was happy to learn that sarcasm apparently existed in the 1300's.
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Unsurprisingly, Ace ended up talking to Vittorio a lot over the next few days.
Yes, there was the shared language. Yes, Vittorio was ridiculously attractive. Yes, everyone was still harassing Ace about using their new time capsule friend to find out more about the Entity and the fog.
But more than that, this was the most interesting thing to happen in the entire six years Ace had been stuck here.
The others weren't thrilled that Ace used most of his time simply getting to know the guy, whether that was blabbering on about his family's Italian roots or bugging Vittorio for fashion advice.
"So you picked up all the accessories in the fog too?" Ace asked. "Pierced your own ears, cut your hair, the whole thing? Damn, and here I've had the same haircut for six years."
"I suppose I could try a different style," Vittorio said, fiddling with one of his necklaces. "Maybe the jewelry and neckline is too much for someone of your time?"
"Don't you dare change anything," Ace said. "Have you seen some of the atrocities the others wear? You'll be dressing like an elf or rocking fedoras if you try to copy us."
Vittorio huffed out an almost-laugh at that. Tactfully, he didn't comment on Ace's flamingo sweater.
"What about you?" Vittorio asked.
"What about me?" Ace grinned. "I mean, my uncontested status as a fashion icon notwithstanding…"
"You seem content to talk about the past," Vittorio said. "But I'm curious about the future. What was your life like before the Entity?"
Ace's smile only widened. "Tell me, my friend, did you have poker in 1300?"
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It was easy to befriend Vittorio.
Ace never would have guessed someone from that era to be so open-minded when even people in the 21st century had plenty of prejudices.
But Vittorio was happy to prove him wrong. It was amazing how easily he kept up with Ace's banter and picked up on concepts previously foreign him. Ace chalked some of it up to the man's calm disposition and interesting life both before and after falling into the Entity's clutches, but more than anything, Vittorio was just that goddamn smart.
Still, six centuries in the fog didn't come without baggage.
"I've seen them," Vittorio said one day, his voice quiet and eyes distant.
He was staring at a group of girls sorting bandages: Claudette was giggling and Yui was rolling her eyes while Nea talked animatedly with her hands and messed up the bandages.
"Yeah?" Ace asked. "In trials? You've met them before?"
"In the visions," Vittorio clarified.
Because apparently, that was a thing. This group of survivors wasn't the first one Vittorio had come across, though the timeline and his memories were hazy.
But in between centuries of sporadic trials, Vittorio had spent most of his time wandering the fog, not confined to a campfire like the rest of them. He'd told Ace that he used to be obsessed with people called the watchers—or observers, or something—so Ace supposed it made sense that he'd been on his way to becoming one.
"I saw one of the girls get chased by sirens and flashing lights," Vittorio said, still looking at the trio. "And one crying on her birthday, before her father made her smile again. And the Japanese one I saw in the future, far away, and she was killing…she killed them all."
Vittorio's eyes were starting to look vacant. But it was only when the tattoo on his neck started glowing that Ace decided to intervene.
"Hey," Ace said, putting a hand on Vittorio's shoulder. "It's okay. Parallel universe, right? No biggie."
"You're right,'' Vittorio said. When he looked back at Yui, he seemed a little more relaxed. "I've seen how she is. She values loyalty above all else; she's not a murderer."
Suddenly, Ace almost wanted to ask if Vittorio had seen him in any visions.
"I never wanted this," Vittorio continued, so quietly Ace didn't know if it was meant for him to hear. "All I ever wanted was peace. To help the world."
"I don't think world peace is a one man job," Ace joked. "But it's a nice sentiment."
Vittorio's smile was melancholy. "At least I can try to make things better here and help as much as I can."
Coming from anyone else, Ace would have rolled his eyes and asked Dwight to calm down with the team-building speeches. But this was a man who had been doing this for hundreds of years and, somehow, still kept on hoping and earnestly helping others.
"Well," Ace said. "You're at least helping by keeping me entertained. And trust me, that's more important than you'd think. There've been flashlight duels and misuse of murky reagents—and a few explosions—when I got bored."
It probably wasn't the kind of world-saving heroics Vittorio was aiming for, but this time, his smile was genuine enough to reach his eyes.
"Somehow, I'm not surprised."
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Trials came and went and Vittorio settled more firmly into their group dynamic.
It was strange, having a new teammate who wasn't exactly new. Vittorio had more experience in trials than most of them combined, and after the initial hiccups—mostly consisting of Chinese cursing and “Stop wasting gen efficiency, you fucking fossil!”—Vittorio proved to be a valuable asset against any killer.
"Watch out!" Vittorio hissed, suddenly pulling Ace away from the generator they were working on.
Ace stumbled after him, shooting a confused glance over his shoulder to where the green orb of the Knight's phantom passed their generator by probably forty feet.
"It's okay," Ace said. "He missed the gen. We can keep working."
"No," Vittorio insisted. "That's the jailer. He's an expert at tracking."
Ace dubiously watched as the phantom phased into existence far from the generator. He immediately started down the path his master had determined for him, not even looking at the generator…
Until he came across Ace's muddy footprints from before.
Ace watched the guard change course and follow the trail to the generator. He peered behind the machine and looked around, and Ace was suddenly very glad for Vittorio's foresight to quietly sneak them away. Because the guard found nothing and returned to his path, and Ace avoided what would otherwise have been a nasty burn from that branding iron.
"Huh," Ace said. "That was pretty impressive foresight, not gonna lie."
Vittorio huffed. "One of the few good things to come from being acquainted with Tarhos and his followers, I suppose."
"Oh, right," Ace said. "I forgot you used to know these guys."
It was bizarre to think that Vittorio was from the same time as the killer with platemail armor. While Vittorio had been seeking knowledge all these centuries, the Knight had apparently been content with slicing people up with his little posse.
"Come, now," Vittorio said. "It should be safe."
Vittorio nudged him back towards the generator and only then did Ace realize that he'd been holding onto Ace's arm this entire time.
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"Must've been lonely, all those centuries on your own," Ace said over a game of cards. "And here I thought a few years of celibacy was bad."
"It never felt like hundreds of years for me," Vittorio said. "But time does pass differently here."
"Still, there's gotta be more interesting stuff for you to do than hang around an old geezer like me."
Vittorio snorted. "If you're old, that would make me ancient."
"Doesn't stop Kate and Jane from checking you out," Ace said. "And unless your monk training required a chastity vow or something, I'm pretty sure body language is universal."
Ace waggled his eyebrows and threw in a wink for good measure. If Vittorio was offended by his matchmaking attempt, he at least didn't show it.
"I'm a philosopher, not a monk," Vittorio explained patiently. "Regardless, I always valued intellectual compatibility above all else. Which is difficult to achieve if there's no way to even communicate."
Ace shoved down the disappointment. If he'd been entertaining any sort of romantic-slash-sexual angle with Vittorio, those thoughts were definitely dwindling with the requirement of intellectual compatibility.
"Damn, it's a shame Claud doesn't speak Italian," Ace said. "She's wicked smart. You'd probably get on great."
Vittorio hummed and adjusted the cards in his hands. "I mostly gave up on romance after my first and last bed partner turned on me and now kills me on a daily basis."
Ace's brain did the equivalent of a record screech. "What!?"
"Tarhos," Vittorio said, his face neutral like he was discussing the weather. "I told you, he used to be my bodyguard—among other things."
Ace could only stare at his friend and try not to gape like a fish as he pieced together this new information.
Logically, Ace knew that same-sex attraction had existed since the dawn of time—hello, ancient Greece—but he never actually expected Vittorio would be interested in men; or at the very least, not admit it so casually.
"You're shitting me, right?" Ace said.
Vittorio gave a one-shoulder shrug. "There's nothing for me to gain by lying."
As he said it, Vittorio met Ace's eyes with something akin to a smirk.
"Speaking of, were you planning on putting back those two extra cards you took last round?" Vittorio asked. "Because I may not know much about this game, but I'm almost certain that's against the rules."
And Ace could only laugh somewhat hysterically before attempting to explain his little card maneuver as a legitimate strategy, all the while recovering from the absolute whiplash of the last few minutes.
Because, yes, Ace still found Vittorio hot: that little fact hadn't changed just because they were friends now. Vittorio still looked like someone had taken David's muscles, Felix's face and Jeff's rugged charm and mashed them into Ace's ultimate wet dream.
But he never thought anything would come of it. The guy was from a completely different time, was only talking to Ace because that was his only option for company, and had probably seen enough shit for a hundred lifetimes.
And now, he was learning that there might be a chance after all?
No matter how small that chance was, Ace had to take it.
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"So, I've been meaning to ask," Ace said a few days later.
Vittorio paused in stocking a toolbox, immediately giving Ace his full attention. "Yes?"
And looking at that handsome face and those deep green eyes staring so earnestly into Ace's own…
Ace chickened out.
"What's that tattoo on your neck?" Ace asked. "The one that lights up like a glowstick when you go all…observer-y."
"Oh." Was Ace imagining it, or did Vittorio sound disappointed? "It's… well, it's probably easiest if I show you."
With that, Vittorio shrugged out of his jacket and reached for the hem of his shirt, and Ace only had enough mental capacity to swallow an embarrassing noise. He glanced around in alarm: they were right by the campfire, with a dozen or so people milling about and Christ, anyone could see the impromptu strip show!
Someone gasped across the campsite and when Ace finally turned to look, he almost wanted to do the same.
Vittorio was covered in tattoos. From his neckline all the way down to his waist, tattoos in various shapes and colors took up the majority of his muscular torso. Most of them were symbols or writing Ace couldn't understand—but then again, he didn't know what he expected from a medieval philosopher.
"How…?" Ace managed to get out.
"I did most of these by myself," Vittorio said. He brushed over a row of what looked like runes on his forearm. "When I was locked in the dungeon, I marked myself with every ancient symbol and passage I could remember. It's how I got the Entity's attention, and what lets me channel energy in trials."
For the second time in just a few days, Ace was rendered speechless. He had seen Vittorio use some sort of portals on generators, but other than Feng's complaints, none of the survivors had been keen to learn more about it.
The longer they were silent, the more Ace could feel people staring. Some of the others were already whispering, but in the end, only one person dared to approach.
"Hi," Mikaela said, finally snapping Ace out of it.
"Hello, beautiful!" Ace's poor, frazzled brain automatically resorted to flirting.
"Those symbols…" Mikaela reached her hand out, hovering above Vittorio's chest. "Can I…?"
Ace had half a mind to tell her to get her own half-naked, medieval hunk. But before he could, the woman's hand started glowing.
"Whoa," Ace said. "Easy there, Red."
"Ask him to channel the power," Mikaela said. "There's—I can feel the potential of the magic, but I can't reach it."
"Reach what?" Ace said. He trusted Mikaela, he really did, but if there was a chance of her witchiness hurting Vittorio… "What are you doing?"
It was an unnerving sight, seeing Vittorio's tattoos and Mikaela's hand both glow the same unnatural blue. The lights were pulsing in tandem, almost like a heartbeat, but Vittorio only watched the sight curiously.
"There's so much knowledge in his magic," Mikaela said. "We just need to unlock it."
"Ace?" Vittorio asked. He still looked as calm as ever. "What is she saying?"
Ace swallowed and stamped down on his own worry-slash-jealousy.
"She said to channel your magic—uh, like when you're doing the observer thing, I guess." Ace frowned. "But you don't have to."
Vittorio looked back at Mikaela, and then he nodded.
"Good," Mikaela said. "I'll try to amplify the magic. Ready?"
"Now, hold on just a minute—" Ace tried.
"It's alright," Vittorio said. "I want to try this."
Ace sighed and stepped back, giving the duo some space.
"I swear, if you break him…" he told Mikaela.
The woman rolled her eyes. "Please just stay out of the way."
And that was apparently all the warning Ace got, because as Vittorio closed his eyes, the glow that resulted from his and Mikaela's shared magicking was bright enough to nearly blind him.
Ace shielded his eyes from the flash of light and heard many curses and yelps as others did the same.
"What the fuck!?" Nea exclaimed.
"Ugh, my eyes!" Steve complained.
"Is everyone okay?" Jane asked. "Mikaela? Vittorio?"
"We're fine," said a familiar deep voice.
A very familiar voice that was no longer speaking in Italian.
Ace blinked the light from his eyes, only to see his friends seemingly unharmed—save for the fact that Vittorio's eyes were glowing blue.
"I assume it worked?" Mikaela asked.
Vittorio smiled. "I'd say so, yes."
Ace could only gape stupidly. From everything he had expected Mikaela's little spiritual session to include, making Vittorio a fluent English-speaker wasn't part of it.
The others cheered and swarmed the man, now free to talk to him without Ace's interference, and Ace's heart sank to his stomach.
He should have been happy for his friend. This would make things much easier in trials and do wonders for the survivors as a team, not to mention vastly improve Vittorio's quality of life since he was no longer restricted to one person as his entire social circle.
So why was Ace so disappointed?
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A few hours later, footsteps approached Ace at the edge of camp—where he was absolutely not sulking away from the group, thankyouverymuch—and it was a small surprise to see Vittorio flop down next to him.
Ace glanced over. Vittorio was usually more graceful, but this time he just sort of…crumpled to the ground, heaving a sigh as he dragged a hand down his face.
Clearly, he wasn’t looking forward to this conversation, but they both knew it had to be done.
Instead of friend-dumping Ace, however, Vittorio merely propped one of his arms up on a nearby log and looked at Ace with a smile: a small, tired smile, but a smile nonetheless.
“Ciao,” Vittorio said.
Ace just stared at him. The way Vittorio was leaning against the log, arm casually draped over it with the rest of his body on display and an easy smile on his face made him look like something out of the magazines Ace used to steal and hide under his pillow when he was a teenager, until his father found them and…
Yeah, okay, not going there.
“How's it going?” Ace asked.
Vittorio frowned. “Why are you speaking English?”
Ace shrugged. “No use trying to talk in code when everyone’s gonna understand every word you say regardless.” He averted his eyes and kicked at a pebble on the ground. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you get back to them? I’m sure they’re all dying to talk to you.”
It wasn’t a lie: he could feel several pairs of eyes lingering on them and probably anxiously awaiting their turn to talk to Vittorio.
Vittorio huffed. “Have you considered the possibility that maybe I don’t want to speak to thirty people at once?”
When Ace’s response was only a skeptical look, he continued, “The magic requires conscious effort to keep active and getting to know this many new people at once is exhausting. I’d much rather keep it to short intervals and spend the rest of my time with you.”
Ace couldn’t stop the smile from creeping up on his face. Switching back to their shared language, he said, "Well, in that case, I guess I'm all yours.”
It was seemingly just another cheesy line and, hopefully, Vittorio wouldn’t realize how much Ace truly meant it.
Vittorio just frowned, then said softly, “I saw you, you know.”
“I wasn’t moping,” Ace reflexively lied.
Vittorio huffed a quiet laugh and shook his head in what seemed like fond exasperation—his default mood when it came to being around Ace, really.
“In a vision,” Vittorio clarified.
“What, just now?” Ace asked.
“No,” Vittorio said. “A very long time ago. It was from one of your stories: the one where you challenged the female fighter for a bet. It’s one of the first visions I remember having in the fog.”
“Oh,” Ace said, then promptly cleared his throat as realization set in. “Damn, that's the memory you saw? I've had more glamorous moments in my life, you know.”
At least it wasn't Ace’s secret gay porn stash or any of the numerous loan sharks threatening him.
“I wasn’t sure it was you at first,” Vittorio kept going. “It was such a long time ago and I didn’t remember all the details; I didn’t know much about the future back then. And even when I thought I recognized you, you didn’t seem at all like a violent person. I assumed it could have been…” he trailed off.
“A dark universe?” Ace suggested.
“Yes. But after getting to know you and learning how reckless you are, not to mention your stupidly proud smile whenever you tell the story—”
“Hey! It's a good story!”
Vittorio smiled. “I can see that it was definitely you.”
“Well, yeah.” Ace cleared his throat and averted his eyes from the sincere smile. “I’m glad you remembered. I think?”
“It’s strange,” Vittorio continued, “how much calmer I felt as soon as I recognized you when I first came to this campfire. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner—that was dishonest of me.”
“Uh, no, it’s all good,” Ace said. “It was probably a confusing situation. It’s not like you could have known you’d stay with our gang for this long.”
“That’s not true,” Vittorio protested gently. “Arriving here was different from all the other places I’ve come across in the fog. It feels like I know these people.”
He cast a glance over the survivor campsite where everyone had mostly returned to their usual tasks of sorting items and talking shit about killers.
Vittorio looked back up to meet Ace’s eyes and said, “Like after centuries of wandering, I’ve finally found the place where I belong.”
Ace kept telling himself it didn’t mean anything.
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Ace sighed and clutched the apology medkit in his hand.
He and Vittorio had had their first fight. The Deathslinger had been a little too happy to focus his attention on the new survivor and Ace had the brilliant idea to take a couple harpoons to the chest to buy Vittorio at least a few seconds to make distance from the killer.
Unfortunately, it had ended in all of them dead. And after Jane lectured Ace's ear off about ignoring generators, Vittorio had actually raised his voice for the first time and yelled at Ace for intervening in his trial.
And maybe Ace had snapped something vaguely sarcastic back, and that hadn't gone over well, and eventually Vittorio's kind eyes had hardened into a glare and he'd stormed off.
Thus, the apology medkit.
Ace eventually found Vittorio in the woods surrounding the campfire, standing by a small lake and looking out over the still water.
"Hey," Ace said, then hurried to add, "Don't worry, I come bearing gifts."
He held out the medkit. Vittorio simply stared down at it.
Then, Vittorio sighed and dragged a hand down his own face. "I'm sorry."
Ace blinked stupidly. "Uh, I'm pretty sure that's my line."
"I haven't lost my temper like that since…I don't even remember."
Since Vittorio didn’t seem interested in his bribe—ahem, peace offering—Ace made the executive decision to toss the medkit on the ground.
"Well," Ace said. "I am pretty good at getting on people's nerves."
Vittorio smiled at him. "You're also very good at calming people down."
Ace shrugged. "Eh, jury’s still out on that one. Still, I’m sorry too."
"Don't be. You…your actions made me realize something."
Ace swallowed the automatic quip of “That I'm a dumbass?” and forced himself to be serious for once in his life.
"Yeah?" he asked.
Vittorio hesitated, then took a pointed step closer, making Ace realize just how much distance there had been between them. Assuming Vittorio was pissed at him, Ace had unconsciously kept him at arm’s length—but that didn’t seem to sit well with either of them.
Because now that Ace thought about it, Vittorio always seemed to hover in Ace’s space. He’d brush a hand over Ace’s back when passing him, sit close enough that their knees bumped when they relaxed by the campfire, and lean on Ace’s shoulder for support while he wheezed at Ace’s jokes that he swore he didn’t find funny.
Ace had simply assumed it was a cultural thing: Mediterranean people and Latin Americans were both a little touchy-feely. But now he was starting to question the seemingly platonic gestures.
Vittorio’s brow furrowed while he studied Ace—probably concerned about the fact that Ace had gone a good two minutes without so much as a joke or sarcastic eyebrow raise—before he finally spoke.
“I’m not very good at this sort of thing,” Vittorio admitted. “I’m not sure how to be any clearer, and you are impossible to read…” he trailed off and fidgeted, actually appearing uncertain.
That was on opening if Ace ever saw one.
“Like I said the other day.” Ace grinned and took a step closer. “Body language.”
He tilted his head up and gently grabbed a handful of Vittorio’s shirt to pull him closer, giving the man his best seductive smile.
…Except instead of sweeping Ace off his feet and kissing him silly, Vittorio’s eyes went wide and he froze completely under Ace’s touch.
Ace immediately pushed himself off. “Shit. My bad!” He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture he desperately hoped looked casual. “I read that completely wrong. Sorry about that.”
Ace could almost physically feel the hit his confidence was taking from the rejection. He really had to stop thinking with his dick before he ruined what had become one of the best friendships he’d ever had.
A warm hand grabbed Ace’s wrist and stopped him from fretting with his hair.
Vittorio was smiling, his eyes now fond. “You just took me by surprise.” He huffed. “Apparently, things have changed somewhat in the last six centuries.”
Ace’s smile returned. “Oh yeah? Was kissing about a date twenty type of thing?” he bantered along. “You never thought to peep on those kinds of things in the future?”
“I can't exactly choose what visions I see,” Vittorio protested, though his face pinked as he blushed.
It was a pretty blush and Ace wanted about fifty more of it, please and thank you.
“Then maybe you should show me how you did it in the olden days,” Ace challenged with a wicked smirk.
In response, Vittorio raised their joined hands to his mouth—all the while keeping eye contact—and gently kissed the inside of Ace’s wrist.
“Oh.” Ace’s voice cracked on the word but dammit, that was really nice.
“Would you believe me,” Vittorio said, lowering their hands to properly intertwine their fingers, “if I said that things were much more crude back then than they are now?”
Ace perked up. “Really now?”
Vittorio chuckled at his obvious eagerness. “But this isn't the 1300st century,” he continued, cupping Ace’s jaw with his other hand. “And I can adapt.”
“In my humble opinion, it sounds like a compromise would be in order—”
Vittorio decided to shut him up with a kiss and Ace’s witty response—along with most of his coherent thoughts—promptly fizzled out into nothing.
Vittorio’s beard rasped pleasantly against Ace’s own and, wow, Ace was really kissing someone who hadn’t been kissed in several hundred years. No matter how much Vittorio had tried to play off his need for intimacy, he was clearly desperate for this and very much into it, his lips a little sloppy and his hand tightly clutching Ace’s.
It was flattering, really.
Ace was completely on board and gave as good as he got, clinging to Vittorio’s jacket and standing up on the balls of his feet to press even closer, kiss even harder. He experimentally flicked his tongue over Vittorio’s bottom lip and his effort earned him a quiet moan that shot straight to his groin.
When Vittorio finally pulled away, his breathing was heavier and he was blushing in earnest, pink coloring his cheeks all the way to his ears.
It made him look somehow even more handsome than usual.
Vittorio smiled down at Ace. “That was nice,” he murmured softly.
“Worth waiting six centuries for?” Ace quipped.
Vittorio laughed and warm pride spread through Ace’s body. Vittorio looked so utterly happy here, in this moment of quiet closeness and shared jokes, and Ace wanted to keep making him smile and laugh and blush for many years to come.
Vittorio leaned back down, then murmured against Ace’s lips. “Worth every single year.”
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It was easy after that.
Ace strolled back into camp after a trial and found Vittorio propped up against one of the logs, his legs sprawled out on the ground in that effortlessly attractive way he always carried himself. He held a book with some weird symbols carved on the cover—one of Mikaela's spell tomes, if Ace had to guess—and his eyes were glowing blue as he translated the text in his mind's eye or whatever.
Ace immediately flopped down next to him with a dramatic sigh, leaning into Vittorio’s side and letting his head rest on a muscular shoulder.
“Damn, your friend really had it out for me,” Ace complained. “That assassin phantom, the one who can outrun us? Somehow always managed to find me when I was injured. I want to file a harassment complaint.”
Vittorio hummed in acknowledgement and the corner of his mouth quirked up. He kept reading but snaked his hand around Ace’s shoulders and gently massaged the spot where Ace had been repeatedly pierced through with a meat hook.
Ace sighed happily and leaned into the touch, his eyes sliding shut as he relaxed from the soft affection.
He could hear murmurs around the campfire: some people had been quite surprised about this turn of events when they shared the news, others had said "told you so", and a few thousand bloodpoints had even exchanged hands.
Ace tuned them all out but he knew people were staring. Here Ace was, casually leaning against his gorgeous, 600-something-old boyfriend, one who was currently glowing blue and magically translating a foreign language, and who would periodically get visions of the future or alternate dimensions.
Yeah, it was a little weird.
There was a laugh from behind them and Ace perked up in anticipation of the newest gossip, but slumped back down in defeat once he heard Élodie go on in French.
“Did you know that Élodie and the architect are dating?” Vittorio asked.
Ace gawked at him. “What?!”
“For quite some time now, apparently,” Vittorio said, still seemingly engrossed in his book but apparently eavesdropping at the same time. “Hm. It's a wonder nobody has noticed.”
“You can…you've learned to…” Ace stammered.
“Translate any language, yes.” Vittorio turned to him and smirked. “Do you think I should tell the others?”
So, maybe his boyfriend had a few voyeuristic tendencies Ace probably should be concerned about.
But then again, Ace was a huge gossip, so maybe it was meant to be.
“Oh hell no.” Ace grinned and leaned closer, draping himself against Vittorio’s side. “This is our little secret and we'll reveal it when they least expect it. Like one of those times when Feng is cursing me out in Mandarin, you can interrupt her with ‘Actually, Ace's mother is a lovely woman, and secondly I'm not about to let him shove a whole flashlight up his—’”
“Alright, alright.” Vittorio chuckled, nudging Ace to shut him up. He lowered his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Our secret.”
Ace’s heart soared and he didn’t even hesitate before pulling Vittorio into a kiss in full view of the others.
He hadn’t been this happy in years and nobody—not even their so-called friends making gagging noises in the background or Vittorio’s murderous ex stabbing him repeatedly—could take this away from him.