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"Are you certain this is a good idea, Achilles?" Patroclus' apprehensive words danced on the edges of his breath. Anxious eyes looked back towards where Chiron normally slept, there was no sign of him waking.
"I am full of good ideas, you know that." He whispered back, quietly rummaging through their mentor's collection of aged wines. "Besides, we're men now Patroclus. This is the sort of thing men do."
Patroclus played with the hem of his chiton, the soft fabric slipping between his fingers. Back in Phthia he had seen the older Myrmidons drink together many times. Laughter and chatting would often ensue, comradery flowing with every drop. Yet at times brawls and arguments heated up the further the night went on. He had never seen much appeal in such indulgence—Phoenix himself preaching the virtues of temperance over mindless excess—but if the soldiers of Phthia found it entertaining, then there must be something to it.
The cork on the amphora popped open, the two boys wincing at the sound. After a pause and not a hint of Chiron's movements, Achilles began to pour the fragrant contents into a wineskin.
"And you watered it down?" Patroclus asked again, feeling the container grow heavier and heavier the more his friend poured.
"Of course I did," Achilles bit his lip, averting his gaze. "Though… only a bit."
A long-suffering sigh left Patroclus as he rolled his eyes. He would not expect anything different from his mischievous godling.
Once the wineskin was full to bursting, the pair moved on light footsteps towards the mouth of the cave. Patroclus could hear Chiron's quiet snoring as they passed by with bated breaths. Careful not to trip over any loose stones, they slipped their way out of the glittering cavern into the humid night. The moon watched silently above, no doubt keeping their secret to herself. A cool midnight breeze carried them further away from their rocky home towards wherever the Fates decided to take them next. The tall grass whispered beneath their feet and shining stars above welcomed their antics with delight as they raced to the edge of the forest. Achilles arrived first, turning on his heel to face Patroclus who trailed behind. A troublesome grin lit up his face in the moonlight.
"Should you drink first, or should I?" He asked, all too excited to start their pointless teenage rebellion.
Patroclus shrugged. "You are the one holding it."
Achilles tilted his head back and took a large swig, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. A few drops of wine trickled from the corner of his mouth. Face twisting in disgust, a forceful cough escaped him as he handed the wineskin over. Patroclus took it, using his other hand to trail a finger up to Achilles' lips, catching the droplets. He pressed his finger between his own lips, licking it off. The honeyed taste of Achilles landed on his tongue.
"How is it?" Patroclus teased in an attempt to hide his own hesitation.
Achilles cleared his throat. "Great. Better the more you drink it from what I have been told."
Suppressing his doubt, Patroclus wrapped his lips around where Achilles' once were and drank from the vessel.
It was clear that Achilles did not, in fact, water it down.
The wine was unlike any Patroclus had tasted before. It misled him, starting out sweet for a few moments before a wave of bitterness hit his tongue. Some sort of spice or herb had been added, which would had been nice if not for the burning sensation it left behind. Any fruitiness rotted in his mouth like a fig crushed under a sandal, turning acrid and pungent as he swallowed. A shiver surged through his body, head shaking instinctively as if to will away the horrid flavour.
"By the gods," he choked. "Did you have to choose the worst one?"
"Worst? This is his best! He told me himself when I asked."
If this was Chiron's best, Patroclus could not imagine what the foulest ones were like.
"You asked?" Somehow Patroclus remained baffled at Achilles' utter lack of subtlety.
"Only once! And that was weeks ago, he will not suspect anything." Achilles snatched the wineskin back, taking another sip while trying his best not to convey his revulsion. To distract himself he confidently set off towards the path that led down towards to riverbank.
The drink passed between them periodically. At first Patroclus hesitated before every sip. However, he quickly found out that the less he thought about it the easier it became. It did not taste better by any means, but it certainly did not get worse.
Achilles hopped over roots and ducked under branches like a young fawn in the height of spring. Each graceful movement caught Patroclus' wandering eyes that tried to stay aware of their surroundings. The demigod's flowing hair was a source of light in the darkness, Achilles had grown it out in recent months and Patroclus was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. At every given moment he would run his hands through his silky locks, they tangled in his fingers the way sun beams scatter through a forest's canopy. Finding himself yearning for the other boy's touch; Patroclus picked up his own pace until he fell in stride with Achilles, their footsteps falling in sync. He entwined their fingers together, perfectly slotting into place. He was sure his hands were made to hold nothing else. A delicate smile played on Achilles' lips, swinging their arms between them as they went along. The flutter in Patroclus' chest bubbled into an uncontrollable giggle.
"What's so funny?" Achilles asked, his words curling up with mirth.
"Nothing…" Patroclus used his hand to shield his mouth, shying away.
"Nothing at all?"
"Mhm." Feeling heat warming his cheeks, Patroclus buried his face into Achilles' neck.
"Do not hide away from me, Pat. Not when you are acting so cute."
Another burst of laughter. "Cute, am I?"
Achilles nodded. "Like a blushing maiden, and twice as pretty." He emphasized his point with a kiss on the cheek.
The river slowly came into view, the sounds of its rushing waters managed to penetrate through the numbness that blanketed Patroclus' mind. Like pieces of a shattered mirror, the full moon glittered over its rippling surface. The river ran clear as usual, only the shadows of fish ate up the reflected starlight. They carefully walked along the bank's edge following the water upstream. Neither of them were brave or foolish enough to take a dip into the freezing cold depths so they held onto each other for balance. Achilles' steady footfalls wavered slightly as he regaled Patroclus with an anecdote he had repeated dozens of times before. Patroclus could not complain, though, he would never say no to the opportunity to hear Achilles' bell-like voice.
"If cousin Ajax had not been there, then I suppose it would have ended differently!" He laughed, leaning heavily on his beloved. A sudden memory flashed in his mind's eye causing him to straighten up. "D'you remember that song the Myrmidons used to sing?"
The strong smell of sweat, wine and testosterone filled Patroclus' senses at the recollection. The clapping of hands and tapping of feet, men peacocking their clumsy dance routines or showing off their impressive vocal skills, merriment shaking the very air around them. One of the older men hoisted Patroclus up onto his shoulders, happily welcoming their newest soldier.
He smiled fondly to himself. "They sang many songs, Achilles. What was it about?"
The godling swallowed down more wine before answering. "The bawdy one about a priestess of Aphrodite, we used to sing it all the time—much to father's chagrin."
The answer became all the more clearer to Patroclus once Achilles started humming the tune. Being so young back then he did not have the faintest clue of what exactly he was singing, but in hindsight he could understand why Peleus scolded them so. He certainly understood the words now, even more so when Achilles began to sing with a certain glint in his eye; guiding him away from the river and into the overhead cover of a thicket. Patroclus laughed freely and joined in. The crickets sang along with them and the birds joined in their fluttering limbs. They gallivanted through the woods like wild bacchants, their movements shifted between skipping, running and dancing. Patroclus twirled around, ducking under Achilles' arm and miraculously not stumbling over himself. Keeping their hands held they circled around one another just as planets do through the dark forest of the endless cosmos. The earth thumped in time with their matching heartbeats. Patroclus admired the manner in which Achilles danced, his swift feet barely brushing against the damp grass beneath them. Achilles brought him closer, his talent infectious as Patroclus' own hips moved as if guided by Dionysus himself. The dancing continued for what felt like hours, endless as the world they could almost grasp in the palms of their hands. Together their voices rang out like the howls of young wolf pups venturing out of the den for the first time.
They finally reached a clearing where fireflies brought the stars down to their fingertips, during which their rollicking slowed to a more reasonable, tired out pace. The way the glowing insects bobbed lazily through the air reminded Patroclus of ships docked at a harbour. It added a dreamlike quality to an already intoxicated state of mind that sent Patroclus into another fit of giggles. Still swaying, Achilles brought him into a tight hug. His chuckling ceased when he heard a quiet sniff and the feeling of hot tears fall onto his skin. Patroclus pulled back, cupping Achilles' wine-reddened face and thumbing away his tears.
"'Chilles, what's wrong?" He murmured gently, tongue folding over itself. His Opuntian accent only grew thicker the more he took of Dionysus' blessing.
Achilles shook his head, wiping his nose with his arm. "I've realised something, Pat." He glanced up at him, sea-green eyes wide and bursting with affection. "But it's a secret. You cannot tell anyone, alright?"
"I won't tell, I promise."
He nodded, face hardening as he tried to gather his thoughts. "I love you. Far, far too much. For a while now. I cannot find the words to express it, it's like there's this…" Achilles pulled back further and made a wild, incomprehensible gesture with his hands. A frustrated whine escaped him. "I don't know… but there is too much love and I don't know how to give it to you because it's a secret and it's all stuck inside me and I wish I could get it out but I can't!"
By the end his words collapsed into a jumbled, blubbering mess as he hid his face in Patroclus' chiton. The sudden mood change was jarring, but Patroclus automatically wrapped comforting arms around Achilles, soothing him with gentle hushes and quiet reassurances.
"I'm glad you told me, Achilles. Considering we've been together for quite some time now."
"Together? Y'sure?"
"Quite sure. We confessed to each other..." Patroclus paused, his drink-addled brain attempting to understand the passage of time. "Months ago, perhaps?"
The sun himself could not rival the brightness that lit up Achilles' face at the revelation. He threw his arms around an unready Patroclus, causing the two of them to tumble onto the forest floor. There was a faint smell of grass stains upon their skin. Achilles sat atop Patroclus, the moonlight turned his hair into a golden halo around his head; when he leaned forward it cascaded like ambrosia down his shoulders and brushed gentle kisses against Patroclus' cheeks. Patroclus thought him more god than boy in this moment, even while he smiled foolishly at him.
"Hello." Patroclus said, his sweetened breath laid hot between them.
"Hi." Achilles replied, smile growing wider.
The fireflies and stars became identical as they spun around behind Achilles' head, Patroclus could feel every minute shift and stir of the ground beneath him. He fought off the rising nausea in favour of listening to his soul that shivered in anticipation. Leaning closer, their lips met in the middle with a fervent kiss. They melted into each other, the saccharine taste of love and wine mixing when Patroclus traced his tongue along Achilles' bottom lip—a bitterness too when he sank his teeth in. Achilles opened his mouth and allowed Patroclus to pour all his affection into the wet kiss they shared. A low groan rumbled in he back of his throat as Patroclus carded his hands through his golden hair; in response Achilles ran his hands along the other's body, desperately pawing at his chiton. Whatever lucidity Patroclus had left had been swept away by drink and devotion and was replaced by the only thought that mattered. Achilles, Achilles, Achilles.
The mantra repeated in his foggy mind until the boy in question pulled away, sitting back up again. Patroclus caught his breath, wishing to catch an aftertaste of Achilles in the heavy night air. He watched as the godling poured more wine into his mouth, holding it there and looking at Patroclus expectantly. Not a word was said but he understood immediately. Achilles dipped down again and brought Patroclus into another vinous kiss. Patroclus parted his lips and welcomed the wine dripping from Achilles' mouth into his own. The nectar of the gods could not compare to the succulence that made its home on his tongue, he savoured every drop that crawled between his teeth and down his throat. It tasted of lust and life and the madness one feels when so deeply, helplessly in love. Patroclus understood now, why the rites of the wine god were so sacred. Why they celebrated revelry and insanity, fertility and ecstasy, all that grows and all that dies and all that is reborn. He felt as infinite as that very cycle, his love flowed like endless vats of wine, he revelled in every touch his beloved gave, and he had been reborn a thousand times over.
Patroclus swallowed the drink around a moan, eyes fluttering shut in a brief moment of delirium. Achilles licked away the stray traces of wine that trickled down his chin, placing one more sinfully innocent peck on his mouth before straightening for another swig. Patroclus breathlessly watched his throat bob up and down as he quenched his own thirst before satiating both of their hungers.
The second kiss was sloppier, needier, a reflection of an appetite that could only be satisfied by touch of flesh against flesh. Blood from bitten lips blended together in a libation holy to only them. Achilles poured the final dregs onto the hollow of Patroclus' neck, eagerly lapping at it to sate the bottomless craving for his beloved. When all had been licked clean, they pressed their foreheads together in a moment of shared silence. Even the woodland around them seemed to have stilled with only their heaving breaths resounding in the heady atmosphere.
Patroclus spared a half-lidded glance at the empty wineskin that had been tossed aside. "We've run out." He slurred, drunk off of Achilles more than the emptied contents of the vessel.
Achilles spared a half-hearted look in the same direction, shrugging. "Don't need it. Not when I have you."
Their kisses were slower, languid as a rolling tide. Between each inhale was the calm after a powerful storm—they recovered in each other's arms just as the storm clouds retreat into the embrace of the distant horizon. Achilles' featherlight caresses and whispered fawning eased Patroclus' racing heart. Bony hips pressed against his thigh, friction growing hotter between them. He murmured praises in turn, his mouth moving faster than his mind. Slowly the world came back to life; the crickets continued their trilling, an owl cooed somewhere amongst the branches, a quiet breeze made the treetops dance.
Within the shadows of the brush, a twig snapped.
Achilles, his senses dulled yet sharper than most, perked up immediately. He stared at the direction the sound came from. "Did you hear that?"
Reluctantly, Patroclus followed his lovelorn gaze into the darkness. "Hm? I didn't hear anything—" He reached out towards his Achilles, but as he did so there was another rustle from the bushes. Closer this time.
Both of their eyes widened, flicking back at each other for a moment before Achilles rolled over and stumbled to his feet. Patroclus, distrustful of his wobbling legs, held onto the demigod for support. Regret seeped into Patroclus' mind. Had he said no to Achilles and convinced him to go back to bed, they would be safely tucked away in the realm of sleep instead of clinging together in hopes that they would not be faced with the snarling end of a wolf.
"Show yourself!" Achilles shouted. Whether it was out of bravery or folly was unknown to both of them.
The footsteps drew nearer, the rustling growing louder and louder until the forest spat out whatever creature resided within its crepuscular depths.
Upon seeing who emerged from the overgrowth, Patroclus would rather take his chances with the wolf.
Achilles blanched, squeezing Patroclus' hand until it hurt. "Good evening… master Chiron." He said, feigning composure.
Chiron's face did not hold the same serenity it always did. It was like a frozen lake in the dead of winter—solid and sturdy, yet bitingly cold. The weight of paternal concern laid heavy on his shoulders, his stance mixed between sombre authority and insomnia. With darkened brows his frown cracked open to speak.
"Good evening Achilles, Patroclus." He folded his arms and sighed, eyes scanning over the two of them. His voice was quiet and severe, alarmingly so. "Would you perhaps care to explain why the two of you are out in the middle of the night hollering in the forest and smelling like a vineyard?"
Averting his gaze, Patroclus straightened out his chiton, taking in its wine-stained condition. No doubt it will be a pain to wash out in the morning.
Achilles glanced at Patroclus for support but received none. It was him who got them into this mess and Patroclus made sure that he would get them out of it.
"We… we were," The godling played with his hair, staring at his feet. "We were only trying to have fun…"
Patroclus winced. He already knew how senseless their plan was, but it sounded even worse aloud.
Chiron's ear twitched in annoyance. "Fun, was it? To steal away another man's wine and act afoul without any regard for your own safety?"
Guilt swallowed Patroclus who slowly shook his head lowly. Achilles, however, attempted to keep up his facade by nodding confidently. Their mentor clearly saw through it regardless.
"We will discuss this further when we are home." He gestured for the two boys to sit on his back, an order that they wordlessly obeyed.
Achilles appeared uneasy as he helped Patroclus onto Chiron's back, a rare dullness fell over his bright disposition. Seldom had he seen their mentor truly upset before and the shame ate him alive. Patroclus wrapped his arms tightly around his friend's middle, holding fast in fear of slipping off and being carried away into the night. Chiron picked up the empty wineskin and set off on a beaten trail at a brisk pace, hooves vigorously clopping against the soft ground as if releasing any and all pent up frustration. The trotting made Patroclus' vision blur and his head spin—the environment became nothing more than a swirling mass of shifting colours. He shut his eyes tight and pressed his forehead between Achilles' shoulder blades, inhaling and exhaling through his mouth to ward off the nausea that returned with a vengeance. Achilles' presence only marginally helped as he acted more as a balm than a cure to a deeper illness. All around Patroclus could smell the earthy, bitter scent of their drink. On his breath, on Achilles' skin, as miasma floating in the air. It is always that damn wine.
Together with the constant jostling, his gut churned and gurgled fitfully after every intake of breath. At the back of his throat the malady sat, lurking within Patroclus' own dread.
"…Chiron?" He whined, a green tint in his voice. "Can you please slow—?"
The rest of his words were cut off by an upchuck of bile in his mouth. Mercifully, Chiron had slowed to a near halt, allowing Patroclus to slip off and sprint towards the nearest tree. He held onto its sturdy trunk for balance as he threw up the contents of his stomach. Tears blurred the edges of his vision while he gasped for air. There was a certain helpless vulnerability in vomiting that Patroclus absolutely despised; nothing in the world is more humbling than having to spill the consequences of your actions onto the floor. He closed his eyes, feebly waiting for the ailment to pass. Another wave surged through his trembling body and regurgitated the rest of his regrets. A pathetic belch and cough followed after, accompanied by a worn out groan.
Unable to meet Achilles' eye, he wiped the corners of his mouth and looked towards Chiron; who's face had softened and ears drooped in pity. The warmth in his hazel eyes returned.
"Come here, my child." Chiron murmured gently with outstretched arms.
Patroclus trudged over on heavy footsteps and collapsed into the awaiting embrace. Despite his lanky frame, Chiron managed to pick him up and hold him close. The boy wrapped his legs around his torso, resting them at the small of his back. They were both painfully aware that the day he could no longer be lifted into his arms was fast approaching. Thankfully, it was not today.
"That feels much better, does it not?" The centaur whispered. Patroclus could feel the rumbling of his voice in his chest.
He felt far worse, mortified that he would allow himself to fall into such a state. In response Patroclus merely buried his cheek against his shoulder. Chiron did not carry the scent of wine, he smelled like herbs and burning logs and warm honey and all the comfort Patroclus gravely needed. They were still quite far from the cave, but he felt right at home in the placidity of those arms. He spared a fleeting glance at Achilles, who looked about as miserable as a kicked puppy. The pouting godling mouthed a silent 'I'm sorry' towards him. Patroclus blinked slowly in return; he was still rather cross with him, but it was the closest thing to quiet forgiveness.
Chiron continued, slower this time and holding Patroclus steady against himself. Their little interlude managed to break the tension between all of them. Curiosity drove Achilles to speak up from where he sat.
"Master Chiron, how did you manage to find us? You were sleeping when we left."
"Well lad, throughout the years I have learned that you two are not as quiet as you presume yourselves to be. You forget more often than not that my natural sense of hearing is more advanced than your own."
Achilles lowered his head in embarrassment, though it tilted to the side as another question piqued his interest. "If you knew we were leaving, then why did you not stop us?"
Chiron moved a branch out of his way before answering. "You would have learned your lesson one way or the other. It is better to gain wisdom from lived experience rather than mere tireless scolding."
"So you let us get drunk like this?"
"No. I let you have your 'fun' as you put it. You could have stopped and returned home at any point in the night, yet you chose not to. Only you are to blame for your own actions, Achilles, and only you can learn from them."
That quieted the little spitfire for the time being.
The rest of the journey home was a haze as Patroclus fell in and out of consciousness, he could not entirely gauge what time of night it was, but he knew it was far later than they had initially thought. Once at the mouth of the cave, Chiron set Patroclus down. The boy helped Achilles off of their mentor's back and hand in hand the two sat down by the fire which Chiron brought back to life. The warmth was welcome even against their flushed skin. Patroclus brought his knees up to his chest, still reeling from the queasiness that tormented him. Achilles huddled into his side, taking one of Patroclus' hands and resting it in his own lap. He thumbed across his friend's knuckles. Chiron handed them each a piece of bread before sitting across the fire.
"Eat. It will soak up the wine."
Achilles, who was apparently ravenous, happily feasted on the bread. Patroclus, however, only tore off pieces of the pale flesh from the middle. He nibbled on them tentatively, not trusting his stomach to hold anything down. Their mentor let them eat in peace for a few moments before heaving a sigh and putting on that woefully serious look on his face again.
"You understand why I am dismayed. Am I correct in saying this?"
"Because we stole your wine and made a fool of ourselves in the woods?" Achilles said regretfully.
"That is the reason, yes. But it is not why."
The two boys looked at him with confusion written all over their faces. Chiron elaborated.
"I thought I had taught you both to be better than this, to make sound decisions. It is not only the act of stealing that troubles me, but the nature behind it. You went behind my back and took something that was mine for yourselves. That is a betrayal of my trust. Does that seem fair to either of you?"
They both shook their heads miserably.
"And it is not only the act of wandering inebriated through the forest that distressed me, it was the lack of regard you held for your safety. I was worrying myself sick when I could no longer hear you. That is why I set out searching instead of awaiting your return. If one of you had fallen down a ravine, or were cornered by an animal, or had gotten caught in one of your own traps, would you have been in any state to handle the situation?"
Again, two heads quietly affirmed a simple no.
"One must not only consider their actions, but the intent and consequences behind them. I am very disappointed in the pair of you, but I hope you will take my words to heart."
Those final words struck Patroclus like a spear between his ribs. He never wanted Chiron to be disappointed in him. Ever. He tried constantly to listen to his lessons, to improve himself, to show that he was worthy of such tutelage. Seeing how swiftly that assurance could be taken away disheartened him to no end. Chiron was like a father to him, and sons needed to be better than their fathers.
Tearfully, Patroclus spoke. "I'm sorry, master Chiron. It is my fault. I knew that what we were doing was wrong yet I did nothing to stop it. I should have done more, for that I am sorry."
Horror struck Achilles' features, he stared wide-eyed at Patroclus for a moment before turning his panicked gaze at Chiron. "No, it is my fault! I was the one who made this decision. I was the one who convinced Patroclus to come with me. None of this would have happened if not for me. I am sorry."
"Be at peace, I understand." Chiron placated them with a wave of his hand. "You are at an age where you thrive off of rash decisions, it is inevitable. Thus you must act as proper guidance for one another, to lead each other through life with wisdom and with grace. Tonight was only a mishap that I see you both deeply regret. This will not happen again, have we come to an understanding?"
"We understand, master Chiron." Achilles said, Patroclus nodding beside him.
"Good. Now, off to bed. I will allow you to sleep in on this occasion as you will need it." With a flick of his tail, he dismissed them.
The boys bowed their heads. They wished each other goodnight before slinking off into their nook at the back of the cave. After throwing his stained chiton into the basket that harboured all of their dirtied clothes; Patroclus gladly accepted the shroud of darkness that surrounded him as he wrapped blankets tightly around himself. He prayed that it would ward off the rest of his sickness. Achilles snuggled up next to him, chest pressing against his back. He felt a light, apologetic kiss on the nape of his neck.
"Pat?" He whispered.
"Please, Achilles. I am tired." His murmur held a bite he did not mean.
"I am sorry."
"I know, I'll forgive you. When my ailment has passed, I will forgive you."
Achilles paused, Patroclus could feel him exhale.
At a loss, he stated the obvious. "I did not like that discussion much."
"Mhm."
The demigod understood that Patroclus was already drifting off, and that it would be best if he did too. "Goodnight, Patroclus."
"Goodnight, Achilles. I love you."
"I love you too."
~|:|~
The first thing Achilles woke up to was a throbbing headache that rivalled the likes of Zeus' before the birth of the war goddess Athena. Never in his life did he wish for his head to be split open until this very moment. He blinked away the stars that remained when he opened his eyes, but the painful act of opening and shutting his eyelids drove him to simply duck under the covers again. A groan crawled its way out of his parched throat. No matter how much he willed it to stop, the earth kept spinning. Even the pitch black beneath his blankets was too bright. It was entirely unfair.
The second thing Achilles noticed was his least favourite sound in the world; Patroclus retching over a chamberpot. All the guilt flooded back into him at once. It was his fault that his beloved was sick, the least he could do was tear his wretched body away from the bed to help him.
Swallowing down the pain, Achilles sat up and nearly fell over again. Never had he felt so unbalanced before—a reminder of how painfully mortal he truly was. Despite this, he soldiered on, standing on two shaking legs and stumbling half-blind towards Patroclus who still knelt in the corner. Achilles fell onto his knees next to him, holding his hair out of his face with one hand and rubbing soothing circles onto his back with the other. Patroclus looked to his left, relieved yet slightly annoyed at the sight of him.
"This is your fault, Achilles." He greeted before throwing up more bile. His throat was run ragged and hoarse from the affliction.
Nothing pained Achilles more than seeing Patroclus like this. Shaking, ill, melancholic, and quite mad at him.
"I know, I'm sorry."
"And you know that I am upset with you?"
"Yes, rightfully so."
"And you know that I would follow you anywhere, even if it means barrelling straight towards death?"
"I—" The question threw Achilles for a loop, his mind slowly processing the words. "I suppose so, yes. Though that sounds unwise."
Patroclus pulled back, chuckling as he leaned his cheek against Achilles' arm. "I think we have both learned that I tend to be unwise when it comes to you."
Achilles pressed a kiss to the top of his head, committing the softness of his dark curls to memory. "Does this mean you forgive me?"
Patroclus hummed, basking in Achilles' warmth. "Yes. I cannot stand to be mad at you for very long."
The air Achilles breathed tasted sweeter after his sigh of relief. He took hold of Patroclus' hand and brought it to his lips, hot breath tickled his fingers as he placed a delicate kiss there. A smile traced the curve of Patroclus' mouth and lit up the room.
"Come back to bed with me, Pat." He gently tugged their joined hands. "Chiron said we could sleep in, remember?"
Patroclus reluctantly stood up. "I will be honest, Achilles. All I can remember from last night was the admonishment we received, and little else." He hauled his body towards their shared bed and flopped onto the soft furs, shutting his eyes tight.
The godling latched onto Patroclus like a barnacle on the hull of a ship. He rested his head on his chest while playing with his curls, watching them tangle around his finger before bouncing back into little coils. Whether it was through time's gentle hand or Patroclus' presence alone, Achilles' pain somewhat subsided. So long as he stayed completely still.
"Your accent is gone." He noted idly.
"Hm?" Patroclus peeked one eye open.
"Your accent. When you first arrived in Phthia it was quite prominent, but you have grown out of it over the years. It returned last night while you were drunk, and now it is gone again."
"A pity." He replied dismissively. Clearly this matter was not as significant to him as it was to Achilles.
"It is! I liked it, the way you spoke was quite endearing. It suited you."
Both of Patroclus' eyes gazed down at Achilles, inside their darkness was the same ever-present warmth that Achilles held onto. There was a hint of amusement to his sarcastic tone.
"Yes, barely being able to form a coherent sentence was so endearing. Thank you, Achilles."
"With the way those incoherent sentences sounded, I was entirely taken by you."
Achilles felt Patroclus' hand cup his cheek, still soft in places where he had not yet earned his callouses. "Send me back to Opus for a month and see how readily I sweep you off your feet by reciting the alphabet."
As tempting as the notion sounded, Achilles would not be able to be away from Patroclus for so long. For now he would have to replay the faint memory of his tongue curling around vowels and rolling over R's.
Eventually hunger drove the two out of the soft embrace of their bed. Begrudgingly they got up and stretched, the after effects of their night of indulgence still hung over them. Head still pounding, Achilles threw a clean chiton Patroclus' way—who caught it and clipped in place. They made to join Chiron in the centre of the cave; but once they stepped out of their little room, their senses were assaulted by an onslaught of different sights and smells. The fire was too bright, too hot. The herbal scent made Achilles' headache worse, and the sun seeping in nearly blinded them.
"Good morning Achilles, Patroclus." Chiron greeted, holding two cups filled with fragrant tea.
"No. It is not." Achilles groaned, shielding the late morning light from his face.
Patroclus joined in his lament. "I would say it is a rather awful morning."
As they sat down, Chiron held back an amused chuckle. "I have brewed tea for both of you. Mint and poppy seed to settle your stomach and ease your aches. Drink plenty of liquids, it will allow you to recover faster."
Achilles cradled the drink in his hands, the steam carried a strong aroma of mint. Despite his reservations he took a small sip, wincing at the sharp burn on his tongue. Next to him, Patroclus wisely blew before before drinking. The tea was refreshing regardless of its temperature, fresh as a spring breeze and holding the same herbaceous notes.
Chiron lifted himself from where he sat with a stretch that cracked his back. Moving towards the edge of the room, he picked up an amphora that proudly leaned against the wall. The intricate art depicting the story of Prometheus and the fire of knowledge was carefully painted by the centaur's own hand.
"I shall fill our basin with water from the river, we ought to clean those wine stains promptly else they will remain stained." He flicked his tail. "When you are ready to join me, we will soak them before scrubbing them out to the best of our ability. Perhaps it is not too late."
"Yes, master Chiron. We will not be long." Patroclus assured.
The pair watched him leave, languidly waving him off as he disappeared beyond the treeline. Patroclus set his tea aside and stretched out his legs, laying his head on Achilles' lap. He let out a tired yawn. Softly, the demigod held the side of Patroclus' face, running his thumb across his cheekbone and admiring the way his long eyelashes fluttered against his bronze skin. Peaking out from underneath were the dark eyes Achilles would never tire of staring at. Those same eyes squinted for a moment, his brows furrowing into curiosity.
"Are you wearing my chiton?" Patroclus asked. The other briefly scanned his outfit.
"Ah, so I am." Achilles knew full well who's clothes he picked up this morning. It was not his fault that he preferred a longer style, or that Patroclus' growth spurt came with bigger clothes that fit Achilles perfectly, or that it carried his naturally balmy scent.
Patroclus could only roll his eyes affectionately. "I want it back, you stole my other one."
"We share a living space, that does not count as stealing." He grinned.
"Not if I never see it again!" A light chuckle from Patroclus sang in Achilles' ears.
Together they fell back into a comfortable silence with only the fire spitting and crackling in front of them. Patroclus turned his head to press further into Achilles' hand, a small whine seeped out from somewhere in his chest.
Achilles' heart melted in sympathy. "How are you feeling?"
Patroclus shrugged. "Alright, I suppose. I have felt worse, yet I have also felt a lot better. We deserve this as punishment, anyhow."
Thinking back to the glimpses of the night before, all Achilles could remember was the absolute freedom he felt. He recalled the air ringing with their voices, the earth trembling beneath their feet, the feeling of love coursing through his veins. It would not be so bad to feel the weight of Patroclus in his arms again, breathless and stumbling. For the few hours they spent in those woods, Achilles felt like he had the world all to his own.
He hummed, considering a possibility. "Would you do it again?" Mischief sat between each word and Achilles smiled at his own proposition.
"Absolutely not." Patroclus said sternly. "Though… perhaps under certain circumstances, I would not mind so much."