Patrochilles

III

"You or your stomach?" he says.

I can't help the gasp that escapes me, or the sputtering. Has he been awake this whole time?

"What- why- you-"

But he's laughing, tugging me, my white shirt, closer, and it's impossible not to smile.

I feign offense anyway, grabbing a pillow and taking aim.

"You arrogant"

Thwack.

"No good"

Thwack.

"Achaean sod!"

Thwack!

He releases me to protect himself, but I hit him with the pillow again. His resounding "ow" sounds distinctly whiny and princely. I hit him again.

It seems I've won the round, but then his arms come around me. Before I can stop him, he's wrested me onto my back, and suddenly I'm pressed flat against the mattress, staring up into his green eyes.

The pillow lies forgotten somewhere on the floor.

But his eyes. God, forgive me. They're piercing, the gold rooting me to the bed.

I feel a strong urge to start praying, and we haven't even done anything.

"Patroclus," he's stern. Oh god.

Say it again.

He does. "Patroclus."

"Yes?" I breathe out.

"You know I didn't mean it like that."

"What?" I'm stunned. "Like what?"

He sighs, "C'mon Patroclus. You know I was only joking."

"You thought I was only joking?" I parrot back, still confused.

He just glares at me.

Oh oooh. He thinks I'm mad about the stomach comment. Well, I am– just a little. And I could pretend to be ...

But, no. No. Even with the frown, his forehead is crinkled in worry and his eyes are just so, so beautiful.

I move my hand, and he immediately releases me. He sits me up before I can stop him, his warm hand pressing into the small of my back.

"I'm not mad, Ach." I slowly trace the frown lines from his forehead.

"You aren't?" He sounds so surprised, so innocent.

My Achilles.

I move my hand to his lips. Trace those, too.

"Can we just ..." I gesture to the pillow on the floor, to the bed, to the sheets and to him ...

For some aggravating reason, my cheeks burn, and I drop my hand.

His eyes widen and a slow smile creeps over his face. He covers my hand with his. "Why didn't you just say so, Pat?"

He mocks my nickname for him.

Before I can yell at him, he has me pinned back on the bed, and this time, staring into those eyes, I actually do start to pray.