patrochilles oneshots

1.

AU where Achilles doesn't go to Troy, where he doesn't care so much about his destiny, where Patroclus takes over Chiron's healing practice and they stay under his counsel in the rose-quartz cave.

Patroclus sat on the cool, smooth floor of the cave, calloused hands working at a blunt piece of wood, his knife resting in the crook of his fingers.
Well, he wasn't really working.
Instead, Patroclus watched Achilles as he plucked lazily at his lyre, strong, elegant fingers picking out a melodic tune. His golden, shining hair fell delicately over his forehead, his feet tapping against the floor in perfect rhythm. They were crossed, one on top of the other, symmetrical in the softly curving arches and smooth, unblemished skin that covered the globes of his toes.
"Achilles?" Patroclus broke the silence, still fiddling with the piece of wood, not daring to look at his lover. Although he couldn't see Achilles' face, Patroclus knew he was looking at him.
"Yes?"
"Can I wash your feet?" Patroclus felt a blush rise on his cheeks, his neck warming. Still he stared steadfastly at the floor.
"You want to wash my feet." There was a gentle, teasing tone in Achilles' voice, as if he knew exactly why Patroclus had made the request. "Why?"
Patroclus couldn't keep the embarrassed smile off his face. "I like your feet," he whispered.
"Oh, really?" Achilles smirked, leaning back on the pink-hued wall. "Go on, then."
"Alright," Patroclus grinned, hopping to his feet, knife and wood discarded. He fetched a bowl of cool, clear water from the fast-flowing spring tucked at the back of the cave, and grabbed a bar of olive soap on his way past. After he had collected a dry, warm cloth that had been hanging in the dying afternoon sun, he made his way back to Achilles.
"So, why do you like my feet so much?" Achilles inquired, flinching slightly as Patroclus began to scoop water over his feet.
"Oh, you know," Patroclus mumbled, concentrating on working a lather into the other boy's skin, trying very hard not to become aroused by the sight of their perfect structure. "They're just - perfect."
Achilles huffed a laugh, leaning over to smooth a stray strand of hair behind Patroclus' ear. "Why thank you."
Rinsing Achilles' feet once again with the chill water, Patroclus began to towel them gently with the cloth. They sat in comfortable silence, until Achilles leaned forward without warning and pulled Patroclus into a kiss. Patroclus let out a startled mmph, dropping the towel and pushing back into his lover's body. Their lips danced, pushing and pulling against each other, finding that sweet rhythm. Patroclus climbed into Achilles' lap, straddling the boy's hips, and Achilles laughed into his lover's mouth. "That's nice," he whispered, pulling away to look into Patroclus' eyes.
"I love you," Patroclus whispered back. He fell gently into Achilles' body, his head settling into the crook of the other's neck. "I love you, a thousand thousand times."