Chapter Text
Achilles stared at his mother in horror, praying he’d misheard the words that just came out of her mouth.
“You did what!?” he practically shouted, earning a few irritated glances from the people sitting near them in the cafe.
Thetis leaned back in her chair and calmly took a sip of her latte. “I signed you up for that show you always watch, where the people fall in love on the beach.”
Achilles took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. “Okay, first, that’s an insulting oversimplification of the Bachelorette, and second, why in the name of Zeus would you do that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Thetis said. “It’s time you settle down and find a wife. I’ve seen the men who compete on that show and they’re all fools. You’ll be able to win easily. Besides, it’ll be good publicity for your father’s business to have you on television.”
“Mom.” Achilles said, feeling his patience leave him. “I think you’re forgetting something.”
“What?” Thetis snapped, clearly annoyed that Achilles wasn’t just going along with this.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I’m gay? As in, I like men? Not women? So I don’t want to get engaged to some woman on tv?”
Thetis waved her hand dismissively. “Oh please, I don’t know why you insist on bringing that up again and again. Like I told you last time, it’s a phase. It’s probably because I let you try on my dresses and makeup when you were little, who knows. Anyways, the bachelorette this season is supposed to be gorgeous. They say no man can resist her.”
“They say that literally every season.”
Thetis sighed. “Achilles, really, I thought you would be more enthusiastic about this. You’re the one who watches this show every week, I’ve seen your streaming history.”
Achilles glared at her. “I watch it for the hot guys and the drama, not because I want to be on it!”
“Whatever,” Thetis said, already reaching for her purse and beginning to stand up. “Filming starts next week. You will go there and you will win. Or else I’m taking your allowance away.”
Achilles shuddered. Without his allowance he’d have to get a job like a commoner.
He stayed in the cafe after Thetis left, sipping his coconut milk latte and considering his options. He knew he couldn’t count on his father to get him out of this; Thetis always managed to threaten Peleus into going along with what she wanted. And he couldn’t bear the thought of living without the allowance his parents bestowed on him each month. He needed that money. How else would he be able to get his hair done at the salon, or buy his iced latte each morning, or keep his wardrobe up to date?
It seemed there was no getting around it, he would have to go on this show. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, he thought. He would at least get to travel and drink free wine. And the contestants on the Bachelorette always became mildly famous, so it might even give him the following he needed to start the music career he’d always dreamed of. All he’d have to do is pretend to be straight in front of a camera for a few weeks; how hard could it be?
***
Achilles stood in his closet in a state of bewilderment. He knew it would be impossible to fit all his clothes into his suitcases, so he needed to strategize. He pulled out his phone and googled “how to dress like a straight guy.” He scrolled through the images that came up and was disturbed by what he saw – a monotony of hoodies and ill-fitted jeans. There was no way he’d be seen on television dressed like that. He was already sacrificing too much for this show, but he wouldn’t give up his style as well. He decided on bringing some nice formal pieces as well as a couple outfits that gave off casual beach vibes, and of course some athleisure for lounging around the hotels. He regretfully left his crop tops and dresses behind.
Once his suitcases were packed, he stood in front of the mirror to evaluate his new look. His blond waves usually reached down to his shoulders, but he’d gotten them cut shorter that week after his talk with Thetis, thinking it would help him better blend in with the other guys on the show. The back of his neck felt exposed with his hair so short, but he also sort of liked the look of it, now curling just above his ears. He straightened his back and gave his most charming smile into the mirror. Yes, he could woo a woman, he thought.
His mother had sent him the details about this season’s bachelorette. Her name was Helen, and even Achilles had to admit that she was stunning, her publicity photos revealing a perfect white smile and long, rippling blond hair. He could see the appeal of her beauty, but he wondered what it would be like to actually meet her. Would she see right through Achilles, realize he wasn’t really interested in her and send him home on the first night? She was probably used to men fawning over her and knew all the signs of it. Maybe he should come up with a plan, practice what he would say at the first cocktail party? No, that was too much thinking, he decided. He would just wing it.
That evening, Achilles’ driver dropped him off at the resort where the opening night would be filmed. It was a luxurious place, the buildings sleek and modern, with an extravagant garden and a stone path leading down to a secluded beach. Someone took his bags up to his room, and he was hoping to go there himself and settle in, but he was immediately whisked away by someone with a clipboard. They took him to some sort of office, where he was made to fill out piles of paperwork, signing away his agreement to not sue the show for any reason whatsoever. He was then taken to have his hair and makeup done, which he actually quite enjoyed, leaning back in his chair as he was brushed and pampered.
Finally, he was being escorted to a sleek black limousine, in which he would drive with the other contestants to the part of the resort where they would meet Helen, the famous Bachelorette mansion. He had hardly thought about what it would be like to meet the other guys, too caught up with his concerns about fooling Helen. But now that he was here and about to be squeezed into a limo with all of them, he felt a little nervous. You can do this , he thought to himself as he got closer to the limo. Whatever happens, just don’t get a crush on one of these straight guys.
The producer who was with him opened the door and shoved Achilles inside. With a yelp he landed on top of someone who was already sitting in the limo. He looked up into a pair of wide, startled brown eyes and an amused smile. Achilles swallowed, opening and closing his mouth like a fish before realizing that he was practically sitting in this man’s lap and quickly moving himself to the side. The man kept his eyes on Achilles as he fumbled into his seat. “Hi there,” he said after a moment, holding out his hand. “I’m Patroclus.”
Well. So much for not falling for a straight guy.
Chapter 2
Summary:
Achilles meets Helen and the boys.
Notes:
Thank you to everyone who's read and commented so far! I really love reading your comments :') I hope you enjoy this slightly longer chapter :)
Chapter Text
For a moment, Achilles forgot how to speak. Or breathe. Or do literally anything useful.
Patroclus.
Patroclus was… well, let’s just say he was something out of Achilles’ fantasies. It was as if the gods had taken every feature Achilles could have wished for in a man and sculpted them into one being – he had beautiful bronze skin, dark, wavy hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He was obviously well built underneath his simple black suit, an outline of muscles straining against the fabric. And his eyes – gods, they were such a rich, deep brown, and something about them made his expression seem especially kind, and trustworthy.
Patroclus was looking at him expectantly, patiently, still holding out his hand.
“Uh, um, hi,” Achilles managed to stammer out, wincing at how his voice sounded about three octaves higher than usual. He gestured lamely at himself. “Achilles.”
They shook hands, and Achilles felt a deep blush rise to his cheeks.
Patroclus was still giving him that soft, amused smile, as if he could see exactly how flustered Achilles was and was finding it mildly entertaining. “Achilles,” he repeated, “it’s nice to meet you.”
And gods, hearing his name in Patroclus’ deep, gentle voice sent chills through Achilles. He wanted him to say it again. He wanted so many things, suddenly, his mind swimming with possibilities – Patroclus whispering his name, Patroclus’ hands on him, how Patroclus’ beard would feel against his neck, or between his–
Achilles was pulled harshly back to reality by a deafening chant surrounding him.
“Hel - en! Hel - en! Hel - en!” filled the limousine, which was now moving steadily towards its destination.
It was only then that Achilles noticed there were others in the limo besides Patroclus and himself. About fifteen shouting men, to be precise. They were all dressed in more or less formal attire, except for one guy in a horse costume, who seemed to be leading the chant.
Bewildered, Achilles turned back to Patroclus, but to his horror Patroclus had joined in with the others and was no longer paying him any attention.
These were the people he’d have to spend the coming weeks with? The coming months, maybe, if he made it that far? Achilles cursed his mother for putting him through this.
Alas, there was no time to dwell on it now. Through the window, Achilles saw that they were approaching a red brick mansion, its driveway lined with colorful rose bushes. In front of the building was an archway laden with vines, and underneath it the figure of a woman. Even from this distance he could see that Helen was just as beautiful as her photos had promised; she wore a golden floor length gown that hugged her perfect figure, and her blond hair fell in effortless waves down her back. The men went wild as she came into view, their chants growing louder and a few of them climbing over each other and pressing their faces against the windows to get a better look.
When the limo came to a stop, a producer began letting them out one by one, each of them getting a chance to greet Helen individually before heading into the mansion. Achilles watched as the first man stepped out of the limo. He was a good-looking guy, though not at all Achilles’ type. He jogged up to Helen and boldly kissed her on the cheek, probably saying some stupid pick up line which she pretended to find funny and then walking inside.
Most of the men gave her a hug, and one of them – a giant of a man with biceps so large he looked like he could snap Achilles in half – actually picked her up and spun her around as way of greeting. When it was time for horse guy to get out he made a noise which Achilles assumed was supposed to sound like a horse before winking at the other guys and trotting towards Helen. He must have had some sort of pun to explain his outfit because he said something that had Helen laughing until she was wiping tears from her face, though Achilles couldn’t guess what it was.
Eventually it was Patroclus’ turn, and he turned to Achilles with a grin before he got out. “Wish me luck?” he asked.
Achilles blushed. It seemed he could do nothing else when Patroclus spoke to him. (Or looked at him. Or gave him any attention at all.) “Good luck,” he said, doing his best to sound like a supportive bro.
He watched closely as Patroclus leaned in to give Helen a hug, feeling jealousy rip through him. He was dying to know what they were saying to each other, both of them smiling and gazing into each other’s eyes as if they were already lovers.
Patroclus went inside, and Achilles tried to shake off the bitter feeling that had come over him as he stepped out of the limo himself. He had just met Patroclus – he had no reason to feel so possessive over him. And besides, Patroclus was straight. That was literally the reason all these guys had come onto the show: to express their heterosexuality. Achilles would only make himself miserable if he let this jealousy persist.
So he steeled his heart and walked up the stone path to where Helen awaited him.
She was smaller than he’d expected, slender, and about a head shorter than himself, and she felt fragile in his arms as he hugged her. He decided he would keep his introduction sweet and simple. “Helen, you look beautiful tonight. I’m Achilles.”
She gave him a dazzling smile and clasped one of his hands in hers. “Thank you, Achilles, I’m looking forward to talking to you more inside.”
With that, he walked into the mansion, feeling quite relieved that he hadn’t made a fool of himself in front of the cameras yet. He found the men all sitting on an arrangement of sofas and armchairs in the main parlor. They introduced themselves to one another, some of them bragging and some lamenting about how their first words to Helen had gone. The first man who had greeted her, Nireus, was claiming he’d felt a “connection” with Helen right away and was already certain he would win. The horse guy, Odysseus, was relaying the joke he’d told Helen, though for the life of him Achilles still couldn’t understand what it was. However, the guy next to him, Diomedes, was doubled over with laughter, patting Odysseus on the back and repeating “Genius, man. Fucking genius.” On another sofa, a very youthful looking man named Antilochus was almost in tears, claiming he’d frozen up and hadn’t said anything to Helen at all.
Looking around him, Achilles thought that perhaps his mother was right – if this was his competition then he would have no problem winning. His eyes found Patroclus, who gave him a smile and a little wave, and Achilles went to sit down beside him.
“How’d it go?” Patroclus asked him.
“Pretty well, I think, what about you?” Achilles said, feeling hot and fidgety in Patroclus’ proximity. Achilles was normally confident and outspoken – how was it that Patroclus managed to make him so shy ?
Patroclus sighed. “I don’t know, man. She’s so out of my league, you know?”
Achilles definitely did not know. He didn’t think anyone could be out of Patroclus' league, actually, but he wasn’t sure how to say that in a straight way. He opened his mouth to respond but was luckily cut off by a few of the guys standing by the window and shouting.
“Yo, guys, come look at this!” Diomedes was saying, and all of them got up to gather around the window. Outside, a man was riding towards Helen on an actual horse. Achilles wasn’t even surprised. He’d watched The Bachelorette enough times to know that the men pulled all sorts of stunts on opening night, but the others seemed to find it fascinating, crowding in closer to peer out the window. Achilles looked over at Odysseus to see that he was pissed at being one-upped, watching the scene with his arms crossed and lip curled in disgust.
They had to wait quite a while for all the men to arrive, another limo pulling up after the first one until all thirty of them were gathered in the parlor. Achilles had lost Patroclus in the crowd and had somehow fallen into a conversation with two men named Ajax. One of them was the huge man who had lifted Helen off the ground, and the other was a pale, wraith-like man with a nasally voice. The larger of them had told Achilles to refer to them as Big Ajax and Little Ajax to avoid confusion, though Little Ajax didn’t look all too pleased with this suggestion.
After what seemed like hours, Helen entered the room accompanied by the show’s famous host and executive producer, Aphrodite. The men erupted in cheers as they came in, and Achilles even joined in this time so as not to seem suspicious, though he didn’t really see the point of it.
The two women waited for the room to quiet down and then Aphrodite addressed them. “Gentlemen,” she began. She had a low, sensual voice and wore a violet gown that accentuated her full breasts. Achilles was sure he saw some of the men drooling over her as much as they were over Helen, though they all knew that Aphrodite was happily married, having met her husband Hephaestus on this very show. “Welcome to the first night of your Bachelorette journey,” she continued. “For those of you who will remain here, the coming weeks will be filled with excitement, drama, and most definitely tears. At the end of the journey, one of you will get down on one knee and propose to the lovely Helen here."
She turned to Helen, who was beaming and looking around at each of the men. “Helen, do you see your future husband in this room?”
“I think I do.” she replied, her voice sweet and musical. “I’m excited to get to know each and every one of you and I know we’ll have an unforgettable time here together.”
Aphrodite smiled somewhat menacingly at the men. “Then, let the evening commence.”
Almost immediately after this speech had ended, Nireus had procured a glass of champagne and was offering it to Helen, asking whether he might “steal her away” for a chat.
Achilles was left to mingle with the other men. He couldn’t see Patroclus anywhere, lost among the sea of dark suits and undercuts. He found himself cornered by a man named Nestor, who Achilles guessed had to be at least in his fifties. He wondered what this guy was doing pursuing a woman half his age, but then who was Achilles to judge? He wasn’t exactly here for the right reasons either. He sat on the sofa, eyes glazed over with boredom as Nestor told him his entire life story. However, when the man pulled out his wallet and began flipping through pictures of his grandchildren, Achilles decided he’d had enough, and excused himself to get another glass of champagne.
However, his attempt to join a conversation with a group of men at the hor devours table proved even less successful. It seemed all these men could talk about was girls – which of the previous bachelorettes they found the hottest, what their past girlfriends had been like, and most of all how much they all wanted Helen. So boring.
Achilles eventually left them to go sulk in a quiet corner of the room, sipping his champagne and wishing he was anywhere else. In the midst of his self-pity he felt a gentle touch on his elbow, and he looked up into warm brown eyes. Patroclus.
Patroclus was standing close to him, giving him that soft smile that made Achilles want to melt. “Hey, are you doing alright?” he asked. “You looked a little lonely over here.”
Achilles felt his cheeks burning. “Oh, uh, yeah, I’m good. I just needed a break from all of… that.” Achilles gestured vaguely towards the other side of the room where Big Ajax was now challenging the guys to arm wrestle him, a group of them gathered in a circle around one of the tables and cheering raucously.
Patroclus laughed. “Yeah, I can understand that. Those guys are…a lot.”
“Yeah,” Achilles said, giving him a small smile. As flustered as he was around Patroclus, the other man also had a way of making him feel so… safe? It was a strange thought, considering they’d only met that night, but Achilles couldn't help feeling more at ease, more understood, when he was with Patroclus than he did with any of the other guys.
“So,” Patroclus said, leaning slightly against the wall where they were both standing. They were about the same height, their eyes meeting at a perfect level when they looked at each other. “Have you gotten a chance to talk to Helen yet?”
“Um, not yet.” Achilles didn’t say that he’d been purposefully avoiding her, allowing all the other guys to speak with her one-on-one but never approaching her himself. Realistically, he knew he would have to talk to her before the night was over; everyone knew that the guys who didn’t get one-on-one time were the ones to be sent home the first night. But at the same time he was dreading it – what would he even say to Helen?
“You should go for it, man,” Patroclus told him. “Honestly, she’s been in the private parlor with Agamemnon for like, twenty minutes now. She’d probably be relieved to talk to someone else.”
“You think so?” he asked, though he didn’t doubt that Patroclus was right. From what he’d seen of Agamemnon he could tell the man was unpleasant at best and predatory at worst.
“Yeah,” Patroclus nodded. “I could walk over there with you, if you’re nervous?”
Gods, how was Patroclus not only the hottest person Achilles had ever seen, but also so impossibly sweet?
“Okay, sure, that would be nice, thanks,” Achilles replied, desperate to spend all the time with Patroclus he could get.
Patroclus grinned at him. “Come on,” he said, leading the way towards the private parlor. They stopped near the doorway and Patroclus gave him an encouraging smile and patted him on the shoulder. “You got this.”
So, Achilles stepped inside. Helen and Agamemnon were sitting together on a sofa, Agamemnon hovering over her and Helen looking more than a little uncomfortable.
Achilles cleared his throat, and the two looked over at him, Helen with relief and Agamemnon with undisguised annoyance.
“Hi Helen” he said, meeting her eyes with a smile, “Do you mind if I steal you away for a bit?”
“Of course not,” she smiled in return, standing up from the sofa and smoothing out her dress. She turned to Agamemnon, “It was nice talking to you,” she told him, though Achilles thought it sounded a little forced. She walked up to Achilles and took his hand. “Where would you like to go?”
Oh. Achilles hadn’t thought about that. He sort of figured they would just stay in the parlor, but Agamemnon appeared to now be a permanent fixture on the sofa, arms crossed over his chest and scowling, and it didn’t seem like he would be leaving anytime soon.
“How about a walk in the garden?” Achilles asked.
Helen beamed at him. “That sounds lovely.”
They went out towards the garden, the cool, quiet air greeting them as they stepped outside. Helen slid her arm into his as they began to stroll, catching Achilles off guard, and he had to stop himself before he could instinctively pull away.
“So, Achilles,” Helen said, looking up at him as they walked arm in arm. “Tell me about yourself.”
Achilles swallowed, choosing his words carefully. “Well… I’m from Phthia. I’m twenty-five. I’m sort of working towards a career in music, like, I sing a little, and play the lyre.”
Helen smiled and squeezed his arm. “That’s amazing. I’d love to hear you sing sometime.”
“Sure,” he said, though if he was honest he hardly ever actually sang in front of other people. Music was always the answer he gave when someone asked about his goals, but in reality he was living off his parents’ money and not doing very much with his life at all.
“So, what are you looking for in a partner?” Helen asked him next, and Achilles froze at the change of subject, his mind going suddenly blank.
“Well, I mean, I’m looking for... a woman, definitely. I just love, um, females, and like… all women.”
Helen frowned. Shit, did he say something wrong?
“So you’ve had a lot of girlfriends, then?” she asked him.
“Oh, yeah, of course. Tons of them.”
To his confusion, Helen’s frown deepened. “You know, Achilles, I’m looking for something serious. If I were to choose you at the end of this I’d want to be the only woman in your life.”
“Oh, of course! You are! I mean, you will be, I hope.” He stammered, not sure how he’d already managed to displease her but hoping desperately to undo it.
Helen’s face relaxed, and she nodded. “I’m glad to hear that.”
They walked around for a bit longer, chatting idly before heading back inside. He found that Helen was actually really nice when she wasn’t interrogating him about his love life. He thought he might even like to be friends with her, if the circumstances were different. She definitely had great taste in fashion and her makeup was flawless, though Achilles thought better of asking her for tips on these subjects.
Before he could return to the other men, Achilles was cornered by a crew member who shoved a camera in his face and asked what his first impressions of Helen were. He floundered for a moment, still not completely used to the cameras following his every move, but he managed to say some bullshit about how beautiful Helen was and how he already felt a spark.
Back in the main parlor, he found that the drama had already begun. There was a rumor going around that Menelaus, the guy who had ridden in on the horse, had already kissed Helen, and the other guys were all clearly pissed. Agamemnon was being especially vocal, claiming he had had less time with Helen than anyone else and spewing all sorts of insults about Menelaus to anyone who would listen.
Menelaus himself seemed somewhat unbothered by all this, sitting at the other end of the room and talking calmly with Podalirius and Machaon. Menelaus seemed like a kind, quiet man, with sandy hair and ruddy cheeks. Achilles didn’t really care whether he’d kissed Helen, but he supposed he should act as if he were offended. He sat down among Odysseus and Diomedes and a few others, and nodded in agreement as the men expressed their outrage.
After a while Aphrodite returned and announced that the first rose ceremony would begin shortly.
Everyone gathered into the ceremony room and the men were assembled into rows. Patroclus was a couple rows behind him, and Achilles remembered with satisfaction that he’d worn a pair of trousers that nicely accentuated his ass. He arched his back a little, hoping Patroclus might happen to glance at him.
Aphrodite announced that the first impression rose would be handed out first, symbolizing the man who had caught Helen’s eye the most tonight and would automatically be safe into the next week. It came as no surprise that Helen gave the rose to Menelaus, though Achilles heard annoyed grumbles from the men around him nonetheless.
Helen then began calling the men’s names one by one. Patroclus was one of the first to be called, and he accepted his rose graciously, giving Helen a quick hug before stepping back to his place. Achilles started to get a little worried as more men stepped forward and his name still wasn't called, thinking that maybe his conversation with Helen had gone worse than he’d imagined. But then finally Helen looked at him and called him forward, and he sighed in relief as she pinned the rose onto the lapel of his jacket.
In the end, three men were sent home: Protesilaus, Tlepolemus, and Prothous. They said their goodbyes and walked out, and then Helen gave her closing speech.
“I can’t wait to continue this journey with all of you,” she said. “It was great getting to know you all tonight, and I hope you got to know a little more about me as well. I’m looking for commitment, loyalty, and a man who’s here for the right reasons.”
The men all cheered, waving enthusiastically as Helen took her farewell.
Achilles was exhausted. He was looking forward to lying in bed with a cup of sleepytime tea and an avocado face mask. However, his plans came to a halt when the producers made a horrid announcement. The men would be sharing rooms. They were piled back into the limos and driven to the sleeping quarters of the resort, where they found that each of the bedrooms were labeled with a set of names outside the door. At the end of the corridor Achilles found the door with his own name, “Achilles Pelides,” and written beside it, as if the fates hadn't cursed him enough, “Patroclus Menoitiades.”
Chapter 3
Summary:
It's the first group date...
Chapter Text
Achilles read the names on the door and felt his heart sink. He could barely hold a simple conservation with Patroclus without turning into a sweaty, blushing mess – how would he survive sleeping in the same room with the man?
“Oh, thank Zeus,” said the object of his thoughts, coming up behind him. “I was afraid I’d have to share with Agamemnon.”
Achilles managed a shy smile. “Yeah, I guess we got pretty lucky, huh?”
“Definitely.” Patroclus grinned back at him, reaching for the door handle. “Shall we check it out?”
They walked in to find that the room was luxuriously furnished, with two king sized beds as well as a patio and full bathroom. Their suitcases had already been delivered and were placed neatly next to the beds.
With the door shut behind them, Achilles could hardly control his nerves at being completely alone with Patroclus. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest; he was aware of his every breath. He stood there fidgeting and looking around the room at anything but the man beside him, not sure how to proceed.
Just as he was pretending to have taken a particular interest in the pattern of the wallpaper, he heard a huff of laughter and turned to see Patroclus staring at him in amusement.
Achilles felt a flush immediately rise to his cheeks. “What?” he demanded.
“It’s just-” Patroclus gestured at Achilles’ luggage. “You have four suitcases. I mean, what do you even have in there?”
Achilles looked at him in confusion. “Clothes, obviously,” he said. “And shoes, and my hair and skincare products, and my pillows and blankets because hotel beds are uncomfortable.”
Achilles had made weighty sacrifices to fit his things into those suitcases, and he still regretted leaving behind a couple outfits. He looked with concern at Patroclus’ one meager suitcase. Would he rewear the same clothes the entire time he was here? While on television? Achilles could never.
Patroclus just laughed at him. “I see,” he said. “Someone’s a bit high maintenance, hm?”
Achilles was both insulted and extremely turned on. Was Patroclus teasing him?
“It’s just basic necessities!” he protested, pouting.
Patroclus laughed at him more and Achilles felt his stomach doing flips.
They fell into easy conversation after that, sitting down on their respective beds and talking for what felt like hours. Achilles learned that Patroclus was a doctor, which somehow made him even hotter in Achilles' eyes. He was thirty years old – five years older than Achilles – which, again, made him even hotter? Achilles had never thought he had a thing for older men, but you learn something new every day, he supposed.
Patroclus’ friend from med school, Briseis, had signed him up for the Bachelorette because she thought he needed to “put himself out there” more. Patroclus had initially refused to go on the show, he said, but he’d eventually come around to thinking that maybe his friend was right. He had always been so invested in his work that he’d never given his love life much of a thought. He’d had a few girlfriends in the past, but never anything serious, and he was at a point in his life now that he thought it would be nice to settle down with someone.
Achilles drank this information in, wanting to know absolutely everything about this man who had so captured his attention. And yes, he knew that he needed to get over his silly crush, that there was no sense in pining over a straight guy, but it was proving more and more difficult as he got to know how sweet and smart and perfect Patroclus was. He couldn’t help imagining what it would be like if they were together, how their lives outside of the show could intertwine.
After some time they decided to get ready for bed, each of them taking a turn in the shower and then sharing the double sink vanity as Patroclus brushed his teeth and Achilles went through his nighttime facial routine.
Patroclus raised his eyebrows at the many tubes and bottles Achilles had sprawled across the countertop. “What’s all this?” he asked.
Achilles recited the products absently as he smoothed some moisturizer onto his cheeks. “Cleansing gel, toner, exfoliator, vitamin c nighttime moisturizer, retinoid cream, rose clay mask…”
Patroclus stared at him through the mirror, brows still lifted. “Damn. No wonder you're so pretty.”
Achilles gaped at him, his hands stilling before his face. “I- What?” he choked out.
But Patroclus just gave him that infuriatingly teasing smirk before lifting his toothbrush to his mouth, offering absolutely no explanation.
And, yeah, nope, Achilles would definitely not survive this.
***
Achilles awoke to a ceaseless clanging and shouting coming from the hallway. He groaned, burying his face in his pillow and praying the noise would end.
It didn’t.
With much irritation he stumbled out of bed, wrapped his blanket around his shoulders, and swung the door open to reveal Diomedes and Odysseus pacing back and forth down the hall.
“Date card! Wakey wakey boys, we have a date card!” Diomedes was yelling as Odysseus trailed behind him banging a wooden spoon against a pot.
Achilles stared at this scene, wondering how his life had become so absurd. He trudged up to them and snatched the spoon from Odysseus’ hand, and then threw it across the hall.
“Woah, man, what’s your deal?” Odysseus said.
Achilles glared at them both. “What’s my deal? Really? It’s fuck knows how early in the morning-”
“It’s ten,” Diomedes offered.
“It’s ten in the fucking morning,” Achilles continued, “and-”
“What’s going on?”
Achilles turned to the voice that had cut him off and his annoyance dissolved in an instant. Because there was Patroclus, standing in the doorway to their bedroom looking so adorably sleepy and confused.
“We’ve got the first date card,” Diomedes answered him cheerfully, waving a small white envelope in the air.
“Hm?” Patroclus yawned. “What’s it say?”
“Haven’t opened it yet. We’re rounding everyone up to do it together,” said Diomedes. “The Ajaxes and Nestor are already waiting in the common room. Nestor got up at like five this morning and was there when the card was delivered.”
“Oh.” Patroclus nodded sleepily. “Well, carry on then.”
Meanwhile Achilles was trying and failing to control his heart eyes towards Patroclus. He just looked so cute with his checkered pajama pants and his messy hair, especially the one piece that stuck out just behind his left ear. Even his voice had Achilles’ heart racing; it was deeper than it had been last night, and slow and a little scratchy with sleep. Achilles had to push down fantasies of waking up in Patroclus’ bed, of being wrapped up in those strong arms and sharing soft good morning kisses…
Gods, he was falling way too hard for this man.
Achilles only tore his eyes away when Patroclus retreated back into their bedroom, and he looked up to find Odysseus staring at him with a strange expression. He brushed it off as nothing, giving both men another pointed glare before following Patroclus back into their room to get dressed.
Eventually all the men gathered into the common room and Diomedes stood before the group with the date card. He cleared his throat dramatically. “Gentlemen, this is an important moment in all our lives. This card I hold in my unworthy hands, written by Helen herself, may determine the course of our entire-”
“Will you open the damn thing already,” Agamemnon interjected, his face pinched into its usual sour expression.
Diomedes frowned. “Alright, alright. I thought a few opening words might be appreciated, but I can see we’re all a bit grumpy this morning,” he said, his gaze drifting to Achilles. “I’ll proceed with the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Odysseus, if you please.”
He held out his hand and Odysseus gave him a butter knife, which he then attempted to use as a letter opener. After some difficulty he pulled out the card and held it before his face, then began to read.
“Ajax, Ajax, Menelaus, Agamemnon, Achilles, Diomedes, Sthenelus, Idomeneus, Teucer, Nestor, Antilochus, Eurypylus, Meriones, Patroclus, and Odysseus.”
Diomedes paused, looking around the room in suspense before adding: “If you wanna be my lover…”
“That’s all it says?” asked Big Ajax.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” grumbled Agamemnon.
“Oh wait, I get it!” Big Ajax exclaimed. “It’s like that Taylor Swift song!”
“It’s the spice girls, bitch, not Taylor Swift.” Achilles interrupted. Honestly, how were these people so uncultured?
“If you wanna be my lover,” Big Ajax repeated, “you gotta get with my friends… so we’re meeting Helen’s friends?”
“That’s what it would seem to imply,” said Odysseus, thoughtfully. “But that can’t be all there is to the date…”
***
When the men arrived at the location later that day, they found themselves at a sunny boardwalk overlooking the sea. Helen was waiting for them there in an extravagant white wedding dress, and beside her stood another woman in a shorter hot pink dress. The men raced up to Helen, Menelaus reaching her first and pulling her into a tight hug.
“Hi guys,” Helen greeted them once they had all settled around her. She smiled brightly, the sun creating a halo around her blond hair. “Welcome to the first group date. I chose you all for the date today because I really enjoyed meeting you last night and I wanted to spend some more time together. As you might have guessed from the date card, today you’ll be meeting someone very important to me. I’ve brought along my bestie and future maid of honor, Penelope,” she paused and took the hand of the woman beside her. “Penelope will be joining us for the date today and getting to know you all. When looking for a partner, it’s important to me that you get along well with my friends, and I don’t take their opinions lightly, so I hope you all make a good impression today.”
She turned to Penelope, who smiled warmly at Helen before looking at the men. “That’s right,” Penelope said, “Helen is my best friend and I want to make sure she finds a man who treats her like a queen. So, what you guys will be doing today is a wedding themed photoshoot. In the building next to us is a studio where you’ll get styled into a tux, and then each of you will pose with Helen on the beautiful boardwalk here. Meanwhile, I’ll be judging your chemistry with Helen during the photoshoot and giving her my advice on which of you to keep around in the weeks to come.”
Achilles didn’t like the sound of his “chemistry” being assessed, especially as there was something about Penelope that made him sense she was quite clever. Nonetheless, he proceeded with the other men into the studio to pick out his tux. Now, this was an aspect of the date Achilles could get behind – the room was filled with racks of tuxedos of an endless variety of brands, styles, and sizes, and the men were allowed to peruse them and choose whichever one they wanted. Achilles could have spent all day admiring them all, not to mention the expansive array of shiny dress shoes and ties. He eventually decided to keep it simple with a light gray tux and white shirt, thinking he would add a pop of color with his tie.
As he was standing before the selection of ties, Patroclus came up beside him and bumped their shoulders together.
“Hey, you,” he said, giving Achilles his soft smile.
For a moment all Achilles could do was stare, because… wow. Patroclus looked stunning. He had changed into a burgundy tux with black details that complemented his dark hair and skin beautifully.
“Hi,” Achilles replied breathlessly. “You look amazing.” And then, realizing he’d said that last part out loud, he blushed profusely and quickly added “bro.”
Luckily Patroclus didn’t seem bothered by the comment. “Thanks, man,” he said, “you don’t look so bad yourself. Although…”
Patroclus reached out to take a sage green tie from the rack and then lifted it to Achilles’ chest. “I think green would add a nice touch.”
Achilles’ breath hitched at the way Patroclus had stepped closer to him, hands hovering just before his chest. And then, because apparently his mouth loved to betray him, he blurted out “Tie it for me?”
Patroclus looked a little surprised, but then he nodded. “Sure.”
As Patroclus’ hands worked carefully to secure the tie, Achilles took the opportunity to study the other man’s face. They were standing close enough that he could see every small detail: Patroclus’ long, curling eyelashes, the way his brows were furrowed in concentration, the sharp curves of his jaw and nose. Patroclus was so, so handsome.
Achilles felt his heart fluttering under the gentle brush of Patroclus’ fingers, wishing the moment would never end. To his disappointment, Patroclus soon fastened the knot and took a step back.
“All set,” Patroclus said, eyes lifting to Achilles’ face.
“Thanks,” Achilles said. “You’re really good at, um, tying.”
Gods, why did he say that?
“Well, I’ve had some experience,” Patroclus laughed. “Here, why don’t you see how it looks.” He placed a hand on Achilles’ arm and guided him over to the full length mirror.
Patroclus had been right – the green went well with his gray tux and the color brought out his eyes as well. However, his mind was mostly fixed on seeing himself and Patroclus reflected side by side, the other man’s hand still resting gently on his arm. Achilles couldn’t help but think they fit perfectly together, his own golden curls creating a striking contrast to Patroclus’ dark brown.
He and Patroclus eventually headed back outside to where the other men were gathered around Helen and Penelope, everyone now changed into their wedding attire. Once everyone was present, they began the photoshoot. Each of the men took a turn posing with Helen in front of the water while Penelope stood observing and talking with the others. Achilles noticed that Penelope had an especially long conversation with Odysseus, and when it was his turn to pose with Helen she watched the two of them like a hawk. The professional photographer who was taking the shots instructed each of the men in how to position themselves, sometimes telling them to stand behind Helen, sometimes beside her, a few times even to lift her up bridal style. During Menelaus’ turn, he took Helen’s face in his hands and kissed her right on the mouth, the photographer capturing the embrace with a flash. This sent the other men into a sort of uproar. Sure, they had heard about the kiss on opening night, but to actually see it was an outrage. Diomedes announced to the others that he wouldn’t stand for it.
“We can’t let Menelaus think he’s already won,” Diomedes said, and when it was his own turn he too went in for a kiss.
Watching Patroclus pose with Helen was like torture for Achilles. He hated seeing them together, and he hated himself for hating it. Patroclus is straight, he told himself over and over. You have literally no chance with him. Let it go. But still he felt himself simmer with rage anytime they so much as looked at each other.
When it was his own turn, Achilles stood awkwardly next to Helen until the photographer told him to put his arms around her. He reluctantly obeyed, feeling acutely aware of Penelope’s gaze on him as he did so. He saw Penelope turn and whisper something to Odysseus, and then both of them looked intently at him again. Achilles frowned, and then remembered he was being photographed and plastered on a fake smile, but something about the way those two were watching him made him uneasy.
Helen seemed oblivious to it. She pressed herself against Achilles, her hands roaming all over his body as they shifted into different poses. Achilles tried not to squirm away from her, but he was beginning to feel like the photoshoot would never end. He had known that coming on the Bachelorette meant he would be dating a woman, and theoretically he had known that this would entail having some physical contact with said woman, but he wasn’t really prepared for just how touchy Helen was. He refused to think about the fact that now two of the guys had already kissed her, and that he would probably be expected to do the same at some point. That was a problem for future Achilles to deal with. For now, he swallowed his discomfort and allowed Helen to cling to him until the photographer was satisfied.
The men were instructed to change back into their casual attire before heading into the cocktail party portion of the date. Achilles was relieved that he’d made it through the photoshoot and was hoping the rest of the evening wouldn’t be especially eventful. He loosened his tie, smiling to himself as he thought of the moment he’d shared with Patroclus earlier, and he made his way towards one of the dressing rooms to get changed. However, when he pulled back the curtain to the dressing room he found that it was already occupied.
By Penelope and Odysseus. Passionately making out against the wall.
“Oh, fuck,” Achilles said before he could think, and both of them broke apart to stare at him in shock.
For an excruciating moment, the three of them just stood there gaping at one another. But then Achilles came to his senses and muttered some sort of apology before pulling the curtain closed and getting as far away from there as he could.
***
At the cocktail party, Achilles did his best to avoid Penelope and Odysseus. And Helen, for that matter. And Patroclus. He sat next to Nestor and Antilochus for most of the evening, feigning interest as Nestor recounted stories of his youth. However, before the night was over he felt a shadow fall over him and looked up to find Odysseus standing before him with a solemn expression.
“Achilles, my friend,” he said. “Could I have a word with you?”
“Fine,” Achilles sighed, and followed Odysseus into a private room. It would be best to just get this over with, he supposed.
Odysseus shut the door behind them, cutting them off from the camera crew. “Listen,” he began, once they were alone, “what you saw today… let’s just say it would be in your best interest to keep that between us.”
Achilles had expected him to say something along these lines, but he was curious to see what approach Odysseus would take. He raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he asked. “And why might that be?”
“Well,” Odysseus said, looking Achilles straight in the eye, “if you say anything about my little secret, I won’t hesitate to say something about yours.”
Achilles felt his stomach drop, but he kept his face perfectly blank. There was no way Odysseus knew, was there? It wasn’t as if the man could read minds. But then he thought back to how Odysseus had caught him staring at Patroclus that morning, and how he and Penelope had probably read into his body language with Helen during the photoshoot.
“I don’t follow,” Achilles said evenly, refusing to take part in whatever game Odysseus was trying to play.
Odysseus smiled condescendingly. “There’s no need to admit to anything, Achilles, I know what I’ve seen. Perhaps we both came here for the wrong reasons. Perhaps we can even help each other out. Why don’t you just think on what I’ve said and enjoy the rest of your night.”
Odysseus patted him on the shoulder and left the room before Achilles could get in another word.
Chapter 4
Summary:
Achilles and Patroclus share tender moments in the hot tub, and Helen gets a surprise visitor or two.
Notes:
I hope you enjoy <3
Chapter Text
The men wouldn’t see Helen again until the rose ceremony at the end of the week. One of them would be chosen for the one-on-one date, of course, but the others would be free to do as they pleased around the resort for the next couple of days. Achilles was looking forward to relaxing on the beach, going for a dip in the hot tub, maybe spending some quality time with the man of his dreams…
But when he woke up the morning after the group date he was disappointed to see that the bed next to his was empty. Achilles frowned, nestling further into his blankets. He laid in his bed for a while, staring at the place where Patroclus should have been and hoping the other man might return. However, when enough time had passed that Patroclus’ coming back to bed seemed unlikely, Achilles wrapped himself in his blanket and made his way into the hallway. He found Patroclus in the kitchen, sitting at the dining table with Nestor, and it seemed that the two were having a heartfelt conversation. They both looked up when they noticed Achilles enter the room.
“Good morning,” Patroclus smiled warmly at him. “You look very cozy.”
Achilles blushed, glancing down at his fluffy blanket and slippers. “Yeah… I get cold in the mornings.”
Patroclus laughed softly and then patted the seat next to him. “Come sit down. Do you want coffee?” he asked, already moving to get a mug for Achilles.
“Yes, thank you,” Achilles said, sitting beside Patroclus and watching as he poured some coffee into the mug.
He handed the steaming cup to Achilles with a quiet “careful, it’s hot,” and Achilles accepted it gratefully before pouring in some sugar and oatmilk.
“Achilles,” Patroclus said, reaching for his own mug and taking a sip, “did you know that Nestor was on the Bachelorette before? He was just telling me about it.”
Achilles did, in fact, know. Nestor had mentioned it to him at least twice already, but the older man began relaying the story again as if telling it for the first time.
“Yes,” began Nestor, “it was a long time ago, back on the very first season. I was sent home quite early on. I was so young and inexperienced back then; I don’t blame the girl for it. But I went on the Bachelor in Paradise after that, which is where I met my first wife. It was love at first sight.” Nestor sighed fondly in remembrance. “Well, it was for me, at least. She was completely oblivious until I told her how I felt.”
Achilles glanced at Patroclus, who was nodding sympathetically.
“If I could give you young men one piece of advice,” said Nestor, leaning forward with a serious expression, “it’s that falling in love is all about taking risks, leaping into the unknown. When you find your special girl, you have to tell her how you feel. You have to take that risk, or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
For a brief moment, Achilles imagined what would happen if he took Nestor’s words to heart. He pictured himself confessing to Patroclus, pouring out all the feelings that had built up inside him the last couple of days.
And then he imagined how Patroclus would let him down gently. “You’re a good friend,” Patroclus would tell him, sweet brown eyes full of compassion, “but I’m not into guys. I love Helen. Sorry, dude.”
And yeah, Achilles would rather die than live through that humiliation. Maybe love confessions and risk taking had worked out well for Nestor, but they weren’t an option for Achilles. He was resigned to crushing on Patroclus in tortured silence for as long as they both lasted here.
“Anyways,” Nestor sighed again, pulling Achilles back to the present, “we’re divorced now, my first wife and I. She refuses to speak to me anymore.”
“I’m sorry, Nestor,” said Patroclus, looking genuinely sorry. “That must be hard for you.”
“Oh, it is what it is,” said Nestor with a wave of his hand. “That’s why I’m here on the show again. If it worked for me once, who’s to say it won’t work for me again?”
The three of them sat talking for a while before Antilochus wandered into the kitchen and joined them, and then Teucer, and the Ajaxes, and eventually most of the other men as well. When Odysseus walked in, Achilles refused to look at him, not having forgotten the man’s threats from the previous night. Not that Achilles was too worried about it. He wasn’t planning on telling anyone about Odysseus’ affair with Penelope – the matter really didn’t interest him that much – so the other man had no reason to spill Achilles’ secret either. But still, he didn’t trust Odysseus. And he didn’t like him. He muttered an excuse about wanting to get dressed before leaving the kitchen and returning to his bedroom.
Achilles went through his morning routine and then changed into his beach clothes, deciding on a pair of tight, short, baby blue swimming shorts. Achilles had a nice butt, okay? He figured it would be a shame not to show it off. And when he heard Patroclus come into the room, he bent over and pretended to search for something in his bag, so as to give Patroclus the full view.
Unfortunately, when Achilles glanced over his shoulder he found that Patroclus wasn’t even looking at him, but was rather rifling through his own luggage on the other side of the room.
Achilles frowned, standing up again and clearing his throat. “I was thinking of going down to the beach,” said, and Patroclus finally looked up at him. “I thought, maybe, you could join me, if you want.”
“Sure, that sounds great,” Patroclus smiled, and Achilles couldn’t help the grin that spread across his own face in return.
Patroclus changed into a pair of black swimming shorts, and then the two of them headed down the stone path to the beach. Achilles nearly tripped several times along the way, as he kept getting distracted by the sight of Patroclus’ perfectly sculpted physique. He simply couldn’t keep his eyes off of Patroclus. The man was built like a god.
They laid their towels out underneath a shady tree near the shore and Achilles began to rub some sun lotion onto his arms.
“Want me to put some on your back for you?” Patroclus offered, and Achilles froze, a deep flush rising to his cheeks at the thought of Patroclus’ hands on his bare skin.
He hesitantly agreed and handed over the bottle of sun lotion. He held his breath as he felt Patroclus’ hands smooth over his upper back and shoulders, rubbing the lotion into his skin.
“Your shoulders are really tense,” Patroclus murmured, voice so close to the back of Achilles’ neck that it sent a shiver through him.
“Yeah, uh… it’s just stress probably,” Achilles replied, glad that at least Patroclus was behind him and could no longer see how red his face was.
“Hm,” came Patroclus’ low voice, hands still resting on his shoulders. “I could massage them for you, if you want?”
Well, how was Achilles going to say no to that?
He gave his consent, and Patroclus’ hands began to work magic, digging gently into his shoulders and relieving the tension that had built up there over the past few days. Achilles closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax into the touch, an embarrassing moan escaping his lips. Achilles had never felt anything so divine as Patroclus’ hands. He began to think he wouldn’t mind if they moved a bit lower…
However, his bliss came to a sudden halt as the other men loudly swarmed onto the beach.
Achilles opened his eyes to see Antilochus standing over them, eyeing the sun lotion and then asking Patroclus “Bro, can you get me too? I burn so easily.”
“Same bro,” said Little Ajax, coming up behind him, and soon a small line was forming before Patroclus.
Patroclus looked a little bewildered, but he was too kind to refuse helping the others, so he proceeded to rub sun lotion onto each of them as Achilles sat sulking nearby.
The guys spent the rest of the day chilling on the beach and enjoying the sun. At some point Big Ajax announced that it was time for them to get swole, and he procured some dumbbells and various other equipment, setting up a makeshift gym on the sand. Most of the men were eager to partake, including Patroclus, who began doing a set of bicep curls. And, well, Achilles couldn’t complain about that. He leaned back in his chair, sipping his mango smoothie and stealing subtle glances at Patroclus’ flexing muscles.
However, Achilles couldn’t help wishing for some alone time with Patroclus. It seemed the other men were always around, and one of them was constantly pulling Patroclus away from him. And as much as he enjoyed watching Patroclus from afar, he also craved the other man’s attention.
That evening, as the men were lounging on the patio, it seemed Achilles would finally get what he wanted. Patroclus had been talking with Podalirius and Machaeon at the bar for the past hour or so, but now he was striding towards Achilles with two glasses in his hands.
“Hey,” Patroclus smiled, sitting down next to him. “Got you something.” He handed Achilles a glass of strawberry lemonade with a little sprig of mint in it.
Achilles blushed, accepting the drink with a small “thank you” and looking up at Patroclus through his lashes. Now that it had been a while since he and Patroclus had spoken he was feeling shy again.
“What do you think about checking out the hot tub?” Patroclus asked him and Achilles thought his dreams were coming true.
Achilles said he would love to, of course, and the two of them carried their drinks over to the quiet corner of the patio where the hot tub was. They stepped in and settled down beside each other, the warm, bubbly water feeling nice against the cool evening air. Achilles took a slow sip of his lemonade and then turned to face Patroclus, and the other man mirrored his movements.
Patroclus leaned an elbow on the side of the hot tub and smiled softly at Achilles. “Did you have a good day?” he asked. “I know we’ve been together all day, but I feel like I’ve barely gotten a chance to talk to you with all the other guys around.”
“It was pretty good,” Achilles said. “Better, now that I’m with you.”
He felt his cheeks heat up. Okay, that came out a bit more flirty than he’d intended. But he couldn’t help it when Patroclus was sitting there practically naked, looking like Achilles’ wildest fantasy.
Patroclus raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, um, I- I like spending time with you. I mean, like, as friends, obviously.” Gods, Achilles was so flustered now he could hardly think.
“I like spending time with you too, Achilles,” Patroclus said softly.
Patroclus looked down and fiddled with the straw in his drink. He seemed to be thinking about what he wanted to say. “You know, I didn’t really expect to make any friends when I came here. I mean, I haven’t watched much of this show, but I always got the impression that the guys all hated each other. But then I met you, and… I don’t know, it’s almost like I was drawn to you. It feels like I’ve already known you a lot longer than just three days.”
Achilles felt his heart speed up, hanging on Patroclus’ every word. “I know what you mean,” he replied. “I… I feel like that too.”
They grinned at each other, and Achilles thought that maybe everything was falling into place.
***
The next few days passed uneventfully. The men hung out around the resort, swimming at the beach during the day and mingling at the bar at night. The one-on-one date went to Nireus, and he returned with a rose, boasting to the others about his day out on a sailboat with Helen. This spurred some jealousy among the men – particularly Agamemnon, who made Nireus the current target of his snide comments.
On the last evening before the rose ceremony, as the men were once again sitting together around the patio and chatting idly, Diomedes stepped into the center of the group and clapped his hands to gather everyone’s attention. “Group bonding time!” he announced.
Achilles groaned. Hadn’t they had enough of that already?
The other men seemed to be on board, though, and they moved in closer until they were sitting in a circle around the patio. “Alright my dudes, let’s play a game!” Diomedes said cheerfully. “We’ll go around, and everyone has to answer a question to get to know each other better. Hm, what should the first one be?”
“How about,” Odysseus spoke up, an evil glint in his eye as he looked pointedly Achilles, “everyone has to tell their craziest hookup story.”
Achilles scoffed. Was Odysseus really going to be so petty? And for what? It wasn’t like Achilles had even done anything to him.
“Is something wrong, Achilles?” Odysseus asked with mock innocence.
Achilles lifted his chin, glaring back at him. “No.”
Odysseus smiled sinisterly. “Perhaps you’d like to go first, then. I’m sure you’ve had some wild nights with the ladies, am I right?”
Achilles wanted to punch the stupid grin off his face.
“I’d rather not go first,” he replied coolly.
Agamemnon snorted. “I bet he’s never even gotten any-”
“No one asked you!” Achilles snapped, his patience running to its limit.
Agamemnon’s face darkened. “Watch how you talk to me you little bitch,” he snarled.
Nestor jumped in, trying to placate things. “Now, boys, let’s not let our tempers get the best of us.”
“You know what?” Achilles stood up. “I’m done. I’m not playing this stupid game.”
He left them, walking over to the hot tub to pout.
Achilles sat on the edge and dipped his feet into the water, feeling rage well up inside him. He hated Agamemnon. He hated Odysseus. He hated them all. Was Odysseus really going to make his life miserable for the rest of the season? He felt tears stinging his eyes, and he wished more than ever that he had never come on this show at all.
“Hey,” came a gentle voice, and he looked up into Patroclus’ worried expression.
Patroclus sat down beside him. “I wanted to check if you were okay… you seemed upset.”
Achilles turned his face away in embarrassment and wiped at the few tears that had slipped down his cheeks. “I’m okay,” he said quietly.
Patroclus shifted closer and wrapped his arm around Achilles' shoulders. “You sure?”
Achilles immediately felt so safe and comforted with Patroclus holding him like this. He leaned into him, hiding his face in Patroclus’ chest. “Yeah…” he mumbled, “it’s just… Agamemnon’s just an asshole.”
“He really is,” Patroclus chuckled softly. “Did you hear what he was saying during the group date?”
Achilles looked up and shook his head. “What?”
“He was literally bragging about how many tinder matches he had. Like, right in front of Helen.”
Achilles laughed. “He’s so dumb. I don’t get why Helen hasn’t sent him home yet.”
“I know, right?” Patroclus said. “I have yet to see one redeeming quality in that guy.”
They stayed there talking together, and Achilles’ anger soon ebbed away. He marveled at how easily Patroclus calmed him down and made him forget why he was upset in the first place. Just being in the other man’s presence made Achilles feel so warm and happy, and assured him that everything would be alright.
***
By the time the cocktail party rolled around, things were going pretty smoothly for Achilles. He’d decided he simply didn’t care about Odysseus or Agamemnon or their petty remarks. He had a conversation with Helen around the start of the evening, purposefully interrupting her and Agamemnon just to see how pissed the other man would get. Helen had gotten wind that there was some drama between Achilles and the other guys, and she questioned him about it with concern, but Achilles managed to reassure her that he’d done nothing wrong, and he heavily insinuated that Agamemnon was a dick and Helen should send him home as soon as possible.
Now, Achilles stood in front of a camera as a producer asked him to explain his tantrum from the previous night.
However, before Achilles could answer, they heard a commotion coming from outside and the producer turned away from him, clearly more interested in this disturbance than in whatever Achilles had to say. Achilles couldn’t blame them, honestly, and he followed to see what the noise was all about as well. In fact, he found that most of the men were gathered around trying to see what it was, and Achilles walked over to stand beside Patroclus, the two of them sharing a confused look.
They could hear a woman yelling outside, demanding to be let into the mansion, and the voices of several producers arguing with her. After a few moments, the doors flew open with a slam and the woman stormed inside, the producers frantically following after her. She scanned the room wildly before her eyes landed on Agamemnon, who looked downright terrified.
“You slimy piece of trash,” she said, striding up to Agamemnon and then jamming her finger into his chest. “You really thought you could get away with this?”
“I- I don’t know who you are, you crazy bitch!” Agamemnon stammered, backing away from her.
“Oh really, you don’t know me?” she snarled. “You don’t know Clytemnestra, your girlfriend for the past six fucking months? How dare you think you could come on this show and leave me behind like I don’t fucking exist!”
Agamemnon looked around at the other men desperately, but no one was going to step in to help him.
“You can do whatever you want with your pathetic life,” Clytemnestra continued, “but don’t for a second think you can come crawling back to me after this.”
She turned to face Helen, who was watching the scene in horror. “The only reason I came here is to tell you to dump his cheating ass as soon as you get the chance,” she told her, and then she stormed back out, leaving the room in shocked silence.
Agamemnon turned to Helen, “I can explain-”
“Get out of my sight,” Helen cut him off. She was obviously shaken but she remained composed.
“Helen-”
“Now!”
So, Agamemnon walked out, having the decency to hang his head in shame. When he was gone, Helen started to cry, and Menelaus stepped forward to give her a hug. He held her close and smoothed his hand through her hair, whispering something in her ear. A few of the other men stepped forward to offer words of consolation as well.
Once Helen had calmed down a bit, Aphrodite announced that in light of the upsetting events, they would move into the rose ceremony right away before bringing the night to a close.
“I think I can speak for everyone,” Aphrodite said, standing before the men when the rose ceremony had been assembled, “when I say that this evening has taken an unexpected turn. Helen, do you have anything you’d like to say to the gentlemen?”
Helen took a breath, her cheeks and nose still red from tears. “All I can say is that I’m disappointed,” she said. “I expect honesty from all of you. I expect you to be here for me, not for any other reason. What happened tonight was appalling. At the same time, I’m glad I found out about it now and not further along in the season. I’m not here to waste my time, and therefore I want to ask you all: would anyone else like to confess anything tonight?” Helen looked around the room, eyeing each of the men in turn.
Achilles and Odysseus both glanced at each other, as if daring the other to speak. Neither of them did.
When none of the men spoke up, Helen commenced with the rose ceremony. She sent home three of the guys who weren’t on the group date and apparently didn’t get enough time at the cocktail party to make an impression – Epistrophus, Leitus, and Leonteus.
Afterwards, as the men were saying their goodbyes, there was another commotion outside. Everyone assumed it was Agamemnon trying to come back in, and Helen turned towards the doors fiercely, ready to tell him off again.
They could hear a masculine voice outside, but it wasn’t Agamemnon’s.
“Please, just let me see her. Just give me five minutes,” whoever it was was pleading with the producers.
An unreadable expression came over Helen’s face when she heard the voice, and when the producers let the man inside she looked as though she would burst into tears all over again.
“Paris?”
Chapter Text
Paris was, admittedly, quite glamorous. He leaned against the doorframe wearing a leopard print shirt, black skinny jeans, and a scattering of gold rings on his fingers – a bold look, but he somehow made it work. Achilles was a little jealous.
With a smirk, Paris pushed his sunglasses up into his chestnut hair. “Helen, baby,” he said in a posh, drawling voice. “Long time no see. You’re looking gorgeous as ever.” He raked his eyes over her figure.
Helen stared back at him in astonishment. “Paris, what are you doing here?”
He stepped towards her, then took her hand and lifted it to his mouth to kiss. “I came to talk to you,” he said. “In private, preferably.” He spared a glance at the other men who were standing there gaping at him. He appeared bothered by their existence.
“Helen, who is this guy?” asked Menelaus in a burst of confidence, and the other men voiced their support.
“Paris is…” Helen hesitated, looking around at them all and then back to Paris. “Would you all just excuse us for a moment? I need to speak with him alone. I’ll explain everything afterwards, I promise.”
She took Paris’ hand and led him into the private parlor.
As soon as they were out of sight, Odysseus motioned conspiratorially for the men to gather round. Achilles loathed to follow Odysseus’ orders, but he wasn’t about to pass up the excuse to scoot closer to Patroclus, letting their shoulders brush together and breathing in the scent of the other man’s cologne.
“Listen up boys,” Odysseus began in a whisper. “I don’t know who this guy is, but I don’t trust him.”
Achilles rolled his eyes. As if Odysseus was one to talk.
“He clearly has history with Helen. I say we keep our guards up until we know the full situation,” continued Odysseus.
“But, doesn’t he seem kind of… cool?” Antilochus broke in nervously. “Like, do the rest of us even have a chance?”
“Okay, sure,” sighed Odysseus, “he seems quite confident, but-”
“He also has great style,” added Big Ajax thoughtfully. “Did you guys see his rings?”
“And,” said Diomedes, “No homo but he’s pretty cute.”
Odysseus glared at them all. “This is exactly what he wants us to think. Yes, he’s attractive, he’s charming, so what? We can’t let him intimidate us like this. We have to be strong.”
There was a general agreement to this. But before anything more could be said, Helen and Paris returned to the main room.
“I want to be honest with you all,” Helen began. “Paris and I met about a year ago. He and his brothers were on holiday in Sparta and we spent a few days there together. It was just a summer fling, and I never expected to see him again after he went back to Troy. I definitely didn’t expect that he would show up here tonight.” She glanced over at Paris, who was still standing at her side, and took a breath. “Paris and I talked just now and… and he asked me to leave with him tonight.”
The room erupted in outrage, all of the men protesting and talking at once. Helen held up a hand to quiet them.
“Obviously, I’m not going to leave tonight. I want to keep getting to know all of you and continuing our journey here together. However, I would be lying if I said I don't still have feelings for Paris. I don’t think it would be fair to either of us for me to send him away. So, I’ve invited him to join the show and compete alongside the rest of you. I know this isn’t what most of you want to hear, but I have to follow my heart. I hope you all will understand and welcome Paris into the group.”
The men stood in shocked silence.
Eventually Menelaus stepped forward. “Of course we respect your decision, Helen,” he said, giving her a quick hug. Then he held out his hand to Paris. “Menelaus. Pleasure to meet you.”
Paris looked at Menelaus as if he were dirt beneath his feet, and only after a moment’s hesitation did he shake his hand, his lip curling into a sneer. “The pleasure’s all mine.”
Later that night, Achilles and Patroclus sat together in their room. They had changed into their pajamas and settled onto their beds, each with a cup of warm chamomile tea.
“What do you think of Paris?” Patroclus asked him.
Achilles took a sip of tea and shrugged. “He doesn’t seem like much of a threat, in my opinion. I don’t get why Odysseus is making such a big deal over him.”
“Hm, I guess you’re right,” Patroclus said. “Helen seems to like him, though.”
Achilles watched the little crease that formed between Patroclus’ brows, and the way he twisted the string of his tea bag between his fingers. Achilles had come to cherish these quiet moments together in their room. They felt like the only times when he could truly relax – with no cameras, none of the other contestants – just him and Patroclus and their sleepy conversations.
“Don’t worry,” he told Patroclus. “She likes you too.”
Patroclus smiled at him, and Achilles felt butterflies swoop into his tummy.
Eventually, when they had finished their tea and were both ready for sleep, Achilles stood up to turn out the lights. As he walked past Patroclus’ bed, the other man caught his hand. Startled, Achilles looked down into Patroclus’ warm brown eyes.
“Hey,” Patroclus said, squeezing his hand gently, “Goodnight, ‘Chilles.”
Achilles blushed, heart melting at the soft, sleepy way Patroclus said his name. “Goodnight, Patroclus.”
***
“Welcome to this week’s group date.” Aphrodite announced. “We’ve noticed some tension building among you all this past week, so with today’s date we want to give you a chance to let out your aggression and clear the air before moving forward with Helen. So, today you’ll be competing in a Bachelorette tradition: mud wrestling.”
They were at some sort of farm, with a giant pit of mud surrounded by stacks of hay. There was an old dude in a cowboy hat in the corner, holding a gong to signal when the matches would start. Achilles stared at the mud in horror. He seriously considered dropping out. He had just washed and deep-conditioned his hair last night, and now they expected him to swim in this filth like some animal? It was insulting.
As he looked around, he saw that the other men actually seemed excited at the prospect of jumping into a pile of mud. Big Ajax had a huge grin on his face and Diomedes was practically jumping up and down. Only one other contestant seemed to share Achilles’ disgust – Paris.
“Fucking unbelievable,” Paris muttered at Achilles’ side.
Achilles found himself nodding. “I know right?”
Paris turned to him with a smirk, then held out his hand. “Paris.”
“Achilles,” he replied, shaking his hand.
“Well,” Paris said, looking Achilles up and down, “It’s nice to see at least one other man here with a bit of class. Tell me, how can you stand these people?” He gestured to where Diomedes was already splashing in the mud like a five year old.
“Honestly, I ask myself the same thing,” Achilles sighed.
Paris shook his head in bewilderment. “Can’t imagine what Helen sees in these guys,” he said. “And I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s a sweetheart. There are a lot of things I’d do for the girl, but this? Mud wrestling? I don’t think so. A man has to have some boundaries.”
“Exactly,” Achilles agreed.
“Besides, who knows what kind of diseases are floating around in there?” Paris said, grimacing at the mud.
Achilles hadn’t even thought of that. Were there mud diseases? He turned to Paris in alarm. “Fuck, what should we do?”
Paris gave him a sly grin. “I bet I can get us out of this.” He patted Achilles on the shoulder. “Watch and learn, my friend.”
Paris walked up to Helen and pouted dramatically. “Helen, baby, light of my life. Me and Achilles don’t want to get dirty. Can’t we stay out and watch with you instead?”
Helen just laughed at him. “Paris-”
“Please? We’ll promise to be good boys and do whatever you ask.” Paris turned back to Achilles and winked, then motioned for him to come closer.
“You take one side, I’ll take the other,” Paris whispered to him, and then leaned down to kiss Helen’s cheek.
Achilles, reluctantly, pressed his lips to Helen’s other cheek, meeting Paris’ eyes as he did so.
They pulled away, and Paris wiggled his eyebrows. “There could be more of where that came from, if you know what I mean,” he told Helen.
Achilles suddenly regretted becoming involved in this, but it was too late to back out now. So he attempted to give Helen the same flirtatious look that Paris was giving her.
Helen blushed and laughed again, glancing between the two of them. “I should’ve known you two would be trouble together,” she said. “Sorry, but no pretty boy privileges this time.”
“But-”
“Nope. It’s only fair. Now go get changed into your swimsuits.” She shoved lightly at both of their chests, sending them away.
“Damn,” Paris sighed in defeat. “Well, it was worth a try.”
The men were sorted into pairs who would compete against each other in the mud. Paris was paired with Menelaus, and Achilles could see terror in his eyes when the two of them stepped into the pit. Menelaus wasn’t really a big guy, but next to Paris’ slight frame he looked like the hulk. When the gong sounded, Menelaus pushed Paris once and he slipped backwards into the mud, arms flailing. “Get off me, you brute! Oh my gods! Helen, he almost killed me! Helen!” Paris moaned, crawling away from Menelaus like a wounded animal.
The real action began when Diomedes and Big Ajax were paired together. Diomedes smeared streaks of mud across his face and let out a war cry before attempting to tackle Ajax. Ajax stood like a rock against Diomedes attacks, until eventually Diomedes began scooping up handfuls of mud and throwing them at Ajax’s face. When Ajax apparently got tired of this, he lifted Diomedes off the ground and dropped him into the mud, then threw himself down on top of him. Despite Diomedes’ efforts to squirm away, Ajax was victorious in the end.
Patroclus was paired with Nestor, and the old man went after him with surprising ferocity. Achilles winced as Patroclus was knocked into the mud and tossed around, but he was ultimately able to pin Nestor down just long enough to win the match. And when Patroclus stepped out of the pit, breathing heavily, mud glistening on his broad chest and biceps and shorts clinging to his ass… yeah, Achilles had to admit he could see the appeal of mud wrestling.
But when it was Achilles’ turn to wrestle, he once again cursed the fates. Because, of course, he was paired against Odysseus. He shuddered as he stepped into the mud, feeling it rise up to his shins. It was warm and squelched around him when he moved, and he tried not to think about what sorts of things could be living in there. Across from him, Odysseus grinned sinisterly and crouched down like a bear preparing for attack. Achilles glared back at him with wrath, muscles tensing as he heard the sound of the gong. Odysseus was bigger than him, but Achilles was swift and managed to duck out of the way each time Odysseus lunged for him. As the minutes passed, he saw Odysseus growing more and more frustrated, an ugly vein beginning to bulge out of his forehead. However, just when Achilles thought he would win, Odysseus changed tactics. He moved his foot stealthily beneath the mud, knocking it against Achilles’ ankle and causing him to slip backwards. Achilles cringed in horror as he felt the mud envelop his body and creep into his hair. He lifted himself up as quickly as he could, but it was too late. He was covered in the mud. Enraged, he lunged for Odysseus with a force he didn’t know he had in him, tackling the other man around the waist and bringing him down. Odysseus tried to scramble back up, but Achilles shoved him again and again, splattering mud onto both of them. Odysseus seemed a bit shocked by Achilles’ sudden aggression, and it slowed his reaction time enough for Achilles to pin him down in a chokehold. Achilles grinned maniacally as he hovered over Odysseus, exerting all his strength to keep the other man down. He only snapped out of it when the gong sounded again to indicate the end of the match, and both of the men left the pit thoroughly coated in mud.
There was an outdoor shower spout where they could rinse off afterwards, and Achilles practically ran for it. He was beginning to feel the mud dry and harden in the sun, forming a crust that covered his whole body, and he wanted it off immediately. Patroclus was already there, just finishing rinsing the last of the mud off himself. He laughed when he saw Achilles.
“I can’t even see your face anymore,” Patroclus said. He reached out and ran his thumb along Achilles’ cheek, wiping away a bit of mud, and Achilles' heart skipped a beat.
“Yeah, I guess I got a little carried away,” Achilles laughed shakily.
He stepped underneath the water, and sighed in relief as the mud began to wash away and his skin once again saw the light of day. The real challenge proved to be his hair. It seemed that no matter how much mud he rinsed out of it, there was still more. He was nearly in tears as he ran his hands through his once beautiful hair, which was now tangled and clumped with dirt. He noticed Patroclus watching him with his small amused smile.
“Do you… want some help?” Patroclus asked him.
Achilles nodded pathetically. Patroclus moved to stand behind him and then lifted his hands to his hair. Achilles suppressed a moan as Patroclus began to massage his scalp, rinsing out the dirt that had collected there. Patroclus then carded his fingers gently through Achilles’ curls, working out some of the tangles.
“Tell me if I’m pulling your hair too much, alright?” Patroclus said close to his ear.
Achilles’ heart was almost beating out of his chest. He simply couldn’t handle Patroclus being so close to him. “Ah- alright,” he choked out.
Eventually, Patroclus took him gently by the shoulders and turned him around so they were facing each other. “There we go,” Patroclus said, ruffling his hair one last time. “You’re golden again.”
Achilles didn’t think he’d ever blushed so much.
***
Following the group date, the men once again had a few days to chill at the resort before the rose ceremony. The one-on-one date this week went to Antilochus, and the poor boy was so overcome with nerves that all the men had to gather round in the common room to console him.
“M-maybe I should just send myself home now?” Antilochus said, practically in tears as he held his date card in shaking hands.
“Not a bad idea,” Paris muttered from a chair in the corner.
Diomedes, who had his arm around Antilochus’ shoulders, shot a glare in Paris’ direction. “You’ll do great, buddy,” Diomedes said soothingly. “Think of it like stage fright, just imagine Helen in her underwear and you’ll be fine.”
Antilochus’ face flushed bright red. “I- I don’t-”
“Maybe save that one for the second date,” Odysseus said, grinning.
Menelaus gave Odysseus a shove and then leaned over to smile encouragingly at Antilochus. “Hey, ignore all of them,” he said. “Honestly, dude, you have nothing to worry about. Helen is super sweet when you talk to her alone. You’ll see.”
After Antilochus left for his date, most of the guys went out to relax on the beach. Achilles was sitting under a shady tree enjoying a banana mango smoothie when he felt Paris settle down next to him. Achilles sighed. Ever since the group date Paris seemed to think that they were best friends, and had taken to following Achilles around like a shadow. He was becoming kind of a nuisance.
“So, Achilles,” Paris said, stretching his limbs out on the sand. “What’s the deal with these guys?”
“What do you mean?” Achilles said boredly.
“You know, what have I missed? What’s the drama? What’s with this guy you’re always staring at, for instance?”
Achilles sat upright, choking on his smoothie. “What? What guy?”
“Oh, you know,” Paris gestured vaguely to where a group of the men were gathered at the other end of the beach, Patroclus among them. “What’s his name – Patrick? I mean, what’s his deal? Do we hate him?”
“What? No! It’s Patroclus, first of all. And he’s– I don’t hate him. He’s… he’s my friend.”
“Huh,” Paris stared at him for a moment, and Achilles shifted uncomfortably. But then Paris waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. What about this Menelaus? He seems to think he’s really something, am I right?”
Achilles relaxed again, relieved at the subject change. He cleared his throat. “I guess. Helen gave him the first impression rose. It seems like they’re already pretty close.”
Paris’ lip curled into a sneer. “Gods, what is it with beautiful women like Helen having such low standards?” he said. “Not that she has many options here. Honestly, I thought this show was supposed to feature the hottest men in Greece, but these guys are average at best.”
With the exception of Patroclus, Achilles couldn’t help but agree.
“I mean, come on,” Paris nudged him. “What would you rate these guys?”
Achilles raised his eyebrows. Did this straight man really just ask him about rating other guys?
“Take me as the standard,” Paris continued. “I’m a ten, clearly. And you…” he ran his eyes over Achilles, then reached out to lift up the front of his t-shirt.
“The fuck are you doing?” Achilles backed away from him.
“Calm down,” Paris said. “I’m just checking out your abs. Hm. Not bad. I'd give you an eight point five.”
Achilles stared coldly at him. “How fucking dare–”
“Oh, don’t take it personally,” Paris cut him off. “You’re better off than most of the guys here. I mean, who is this cow-looking dude over there?” He pointed to Odysseus, and Achilles would have laughed if he wasn’t bitter from Paris’ previous comment. “He’s a solid four. What does a guy like that think he’s doing on television? It’s a disgrace”
“And your friend Pat over there,” Paris continued, “He’s alright, but he’s nothing special, you know? Maybe a six.”
That was the final straw. Achilles stood up and didn’t speak to Paris for the rest of the day.
***
On the night of the rose ceremony, Achilles stood in front of the mirror, frowning. He’d changed in and out of about ten outfits trying to decide what to wear, but nothing felt quite right tonight.
Patroclus came up beside him and their eyes met in the mirror.
“Hey,” Patroclus smiled. Then, noticing Achilles’ expression, he turned to face him, leaning against the bathroom counter. “Everything alright?”
Achilles blushed, glancing away in embarrassment. “Yeah... I just– Do you think I look okay? I can't decide what to wear.”
Patroclus tilted his head. He seemed perplexed by the question. “You look lovely, Achilles. You... you always do.”
“Oh,” Achilles swallowed, speechless. “Um. Right. Thanks.”
Patroclus reached for his hand, running his thumb over Achilles’ knuckles and smiling softly at him. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll be late.”
The cocktail party and rose ceremony went smoothly. Alcmaeon, Blanirus, and Clytius were sent home, leaving only twenty-one men remaining. At the end of the night, Helen stood before them in a shimmering silver gown, and she lifted her glass of champagne for a final toast.
“I’m so happy with the group of men I have left here. I’ve started to form some great connections with you guys and I’m looking forward to getting to know you all even more in the weeks to come. And – ”
Helen paused, flashing a dazzling smile, “I’m excited to announce that next week we’ll be leaving for our first travel destination, Switzerland!”
Chapter 6
Summary:
The gang goes to Switzerland. It's too cold for Achilles.
Notes:
hi I hope you enjoy :) p.s. please ignore the inaccuracies. I've never actually been to any of the places where they'll travel in this
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The first thing Achilles noticed when they landed in Zürich was that it was cold. Freezing, actually. Although it was nearing the end of winter, the city and surrounding mountains were still covered in a layer of snow, and there was a biting chill in the air. The contestants would be staying at a resort in the alps, and as they drove from the airport into the higher elevations Achilles felt the air grow even colder. He subtly pressed himself closer to Patroclus, who was in the seat beside him, trying to soak up some of the other man’s warmth.
When they arrived at their accommodation, they found that it was a luxurious resort nestled deep in the mountains, next to an alpine lake and surrounded by a thick pine forest. The resort was in the style of a rustic cabin, built of stone and thick dark logs. Inside was a large common room furnished with a fireplace, sofas and armchairs laden with handmade quilts, and scenic paintings covering the walls. In one wing of the cabin there was a wood paneled sauna, and in the other were the bedrooms.
The room assignments remained the same as at the Bachelorette mansion, with a few adjustments to account for the men who had been sent home, and for the arrival of Paris. At first, Paris was assigned to share a room with Menelaus, but he threw such a fit about this that in the end the producers gave in and let him have a room to himself.
Achilles’ and Patroclus’ room was warm and cozy. The beds were made of dark polished wood and covered with scarlet and cream colored patchwork quilts. On the wall above the beds was a painting of a snowy forest scene, and from their window they had a lovely view of the mountain peaks outside.
That evening, Achilles was glad to finally be out of the cold and was looking forward to spending a quiet, peaceful night with Patroclus in their room. He was sitting on his bed, having changed into his fluffiest sweater and happily wrapped up in his quilt with a cup of lemon ginger tea, and Patroclus was sitting on his own bed, reading. Through the window, they could see the snow falling softly outside and the sky beginning to grow dark.
“YOOOOO” Diomedes burst into their room, startling Achilles so much that he spilled some tea into his lap.
Achilles glared at the intruder. “What the fuck do you want?”
Diomedes waved a small white piece of paper in the air, smiling obnoxiously. “Surprise date card!” He cleared his throat and began reading dramatically. “Gentlemen, let’s celebrate our first night in Switzerland together. Meet me in the sauna. Love, Helen.” Diomedes wiggled his eyebrows. “You guys in?”
Achilles sighed. He didn’t really feel like leaving his bed. But then Patroclus turned to him and smiled. “Of course we are, right?”
Well, he supposed the sauna wouldn’t be so bad…
Achilles and Patroclus changed into their swimsuits and then walked into the hot, steamy room of the sauna. Some of the other men were already gathered there, and Helen was with them. She was wearing a simple navy-blue bikini with her hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She waved at Achilles and Patroclus when they entered, and they walked over to give her a hug.
“How are you two doing?” she said, gesturing for them to sit down next to her on the wooden bench.
“Great,” Patroclus smiled at her. “This place is amazing, Helen.”
Helen smiled brightly at Patroclus and then placed her hand on his thigh, leaning in closer. Achilles burned with jealousy.
“I know, right?” she said. “I stayed here with my family a few years ago and I just loved it. That’s why I couldn’t wait to bring you guys here.”
“And what about you, Achilles? Are you having a nice time so far?” Helen asked.
Achilles plastered on his fakest smile, tearing his eyes from where Helen’s hand still rested on Patroclus. “Oh, yeah. It’s fantastic.”
Once all of the men had gathered in the sauna, a bottle of champagne was passed around, and Helen lifted her glass in a toast. “Here’s to our first night in Switzerland and to an amazing week ahead!”
The men cheered. Helen began to move around the room, taking time to speak with each of them, and Achilles was relieved to have some distance between her and Patroclus.
Patroclus tapped his champagne glass against Achilles’ with a small smile. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” Achilles glanced back at him shyly.
Patroclus looked… well, hot. In more ways than one. His bronze skin was covered in a sheen of sweat and his dark hair clung a bit around his neck and face. Achilles was overwhelmed.
He took a sip of champagne, attempting to hide his blush, and averted his eyes to see that Helen and Paris were now making out on the other side of the room. Paris was practically in Helen’s lap, his arms slung around her neck and one of her hands buried in his hair. Menelaus was sitting on the bench beside them looking like a hurt puppy, and next to him was Odysseus, who, as usual, looked as if he were coming up with some sort of evil scheme.
Patroclus followed Achilles’ gaze and let out a huff of laughter. “Well. It looks like this is going to be a long night.”
***
The next morning, another date card was placed on the coffee table in the common room. It read: Paris – Let’s pick up where we left off.
The other men were not happy.
“He hasn’t even been here the whole season and he’s already getting a one-on-one? Seems sus.” Odysseus scowled, and the others nodded in agreement.
Achilles, however, had no complaints. He was more than happy to have a whole day without Paris around to bother him.
That meant that the rest of the men had the day to do whatever they liked. Diomedes suggested, for the sake of “group bonding,” that all the men take a group tour of Zürich together. However, everyone else shot down this idea in favor of going off on their own or in smaller groups.
Patroclus nudged Achilles with his elbow. “Wanna stick together?”
Achilles grinned. “Of course.”
Before they left the resort, Achilles put on a thick sweater, his puffer coat, a scarf, and hat. He looked ridiculous, but it was simply too cold to care about fashion.
He and Patroclus spent the morning strolling through the cobbled streets and snow-covered rooftops of the city center. Patroclus had taken a map from the resort, and he studied it as they walked, trying to find somewhere interesting for them to go. Eventually, Patroclus led them to the Grossmünster, a church with two beautiful twin towers.
“According to legend, the church was built on the burial grounds of Felix, Regula, and Exuperantius, Zürich’s patron saints,” Patroclus read from the information on the back of his map. “There’s supposed to be a great view of the city from the top of the towers.”
“Race you to the top.”
Patroclus finally looked up from the map, eyebrows furrowed adorably. Achilles grinned at him.
“What? Achilles–”
Achilles broke into a sprint, heading towards the stone steps that led up one of the towers. He pushed past surprised and irritated tourists, laughing as he glanced over his shoulder to see that Patroclus was running after him with an exasperated smile.
“Achilles, wait,” came Patroclus' voice behind him as he started up the steps.
He glanced back and laughed again. “Come on!”
Achilles picked up speed, racing up the winding stone steps. Just as he reached the top, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and he squealed, twisting around.
“Got you.” Patroclus grinned at him, breathing heavily.
Achilles’ heart beat quickly. Patroclus’ hands rested gently on his waist, their faces close together.
“I still won,” Achilles laughed breathlessly.
“Only because you had a head start.”
Patroclus let go of him, and Achilles immediately mourned the loss of his touch.
He stuck out his tongue. “Says the loser.”
After admiring the view from the tower, they came back down and walked along a street with lots of shops and cafés. They went into some of the clothing shops and dared each other to try on silly outfits. Achilles made (more than) a few purchases, figuring he might as well update his wardrobe while he was here. He charged everything on Thetis’ credit card, and by the time they reached the end of the street he was carrying so many shopping bags that Patroclus offered to hold some of them for him.
They went into one last place, because Achilles saw a beautiful gold bracelet in the display window of a jewelry shop and he couldn’t resist trying it on. It was a delicate golden band detailed with tiny, intricately carved leaves. Achilles held his arm out in front of him, admiring how it fit his wrist perfectly. However, when he glanced at the price tag he decided that Thetis would definitely give him hell if he added this to the already high bill he had racked up that day. With a sigh, he took it off and placed it carefully back on the shelf.
“You aren’t getting it?” Patroclus asked him. He had been standing near Achilles as he tried the bracelet on.
Achilles shrugged. “I’ve bought enough for today. Besides, I’m getting hungry. Can we go into that café next door?”
“Of course,” Patroclus smiled at him.
They went back outside and headed towards the café, which was supposed to serve the best drinking chocolate in the city. However, before they reached the entrance Patroclus came to a sudden stop.
“Oh shit, I think I forgot one of your bags in the last shop,” he said. “You go in and find us a table. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” Achilles said. He entered the café, which was cute and cozy, and found a place to sit near one of the windows.
Patroclus came through the doors a few minutes later and sat down across from him, smiling. “All set.”
They ordered an assortment of pastries to share, as well as two mugs of drinking chocolate. Achilles tried to pronounce it like the locals – Heisse Schoggi – which caused them both to burst into a fit of giggles as the server stared at them in confusion.
The drinking chocolate was deliciously rich and creamy, and the perfect thing to warm them up after walking outside in the cold. The pastries were also some of the best Achilles had ever tried, and by the time they’d finished their little meal he was feeling warm and satisfied.
Just as they were finishing up, Patroclus cleared his throat and glanced at Achilles from across the table. He pulled a small black box out of his coat pocket, looking slightly sheepish.
“I, um, I have a surprise for you,” Patroclus said. He held the box out to Achilles. “Here, open it.”
Confused, he took the box from Patroclus and carefully lifted the lid.
Achilles gasped. It was the bracelet he had tried on in the shop earlier.
He looked back up at Patroclus, who was, to his amazement, blushing.
“I just thought… well, it looked too nice on you not to get it.”
Achilles was speechless. He felt tears coming to his eyes. With the utmost care, he set the box down on the table and then stood up, walking around to the other side of the table and throwing himself into Patroclus’ arms. Patroclus let out a little startled laugh, but then he wrapped his arms around Achilles’ waist and pulled him down into his lap.
“Patroclus,” Achilles whispered, burying his face in the other man’s neck and squeezing him tight. “You shouldn’t have–”
“Hush,” Patroclus said. “I wanted to. You like it, don’t you?”
Achilles pulled back enough to look in his eyes. “I– of course I do. It’s beautiful.”
“Then you should have it.”
Patroclus was gazing at him softly, and his lips were curved into a small, hesitant smile. Achilles had never wanted to kiss someone so badly.
“Patroclus…” he repeated, letting his eyes rest on the other man’s lips.
And then someone walked into the café, and the chimes above the door brought him back to his senses.
Achilles lifted his gaze, blushing deeply. “Thank you, Patroclus,” he said.
***
Later that evening, Achilles laid in his bed as Patroclus was taking a shower. He held the bracelet in his hands, gently tracing his fingertip over the pattern of the leaves. A small smile crept onto his lips as he replayed in his mind how Patroclus had given it to him. Achilles had smiled so much today that his cheeks hurt. If he let himself pretend, it was almost as if he and Patroclus had been on a date…
Suddenly, the bedroom door burst open and Paris strode inside as if he owned the place.
“Well,” said Paris with a smug look, flopping down onto the bed beside Achilles, “Aren’t you going to ask me how it was?”
Achilles sat up, irritated by the intrusion. Couldn’t anyone be bothered to knock around here? “How what was?” he asked.
“Bruh.” Paris gaped at him. “Do you have brain damage? My date with Helen.”
“Oh, right.” Achilles yawned. “How was it?”
Paris grinned. “I’m glad you asked. We went to this incredible spa. Really top rate. I would recommend it to you if you’re ever in the area again. We got seaweed wraps, facials, the works. Now,” Paris leaned forward, smirking, “when it was time to peel the seaweed off of each other, that’s when things started to get steamy…”
Paris went on to relay the rest of his day with Helen, going into a bit more detail than Achilles would have preferred.
“That’s great man. Sounds like you had a nice time,” Achilles said when he had finished, hoping the conversation would come to a close and Paris would leave him to daydream about Patroclus some more.
“Damn right. That girl is something else,” Paris sighed, a dreamy expression coming over his face.
When a moment passed and it still didn’t seem like Paris would leave, Achilles cleared his throat pointedly.
Paris turned to him, coming out of whatever trance he was in. “Well?” he said. “What did you get up to today? What do we have here?” He reached for Achilles’ bracelet, and Achilles pulled it protectively towards his chest. He wouldn’t have Paris’ greedy hands on it.
“Patroclus and I went into the city…” Achilles began, and without really meaning to he found himself telling Paris all about his day, the words spilling excitedly out of his mouth. “...and then he gave me this bracelet. I had no idea he had gone back into the shop to buy it. I couldn't believe it, it was so sweet of him,” Achilles finished, a silly grin spreading across his face as he turned the bracelet over in his hands.
When he looked up, he saw that Paris was staring at him with his mouth hanging slightly open. Then, suddenly, he burst out laughing.
Achilles frowned in confusion. “What is it? What’s wrong with you?”
Paris continued to cackle, doubling over and nearly rolling on top of Achilles.
Achilles pushed him away. “Gods, you’re so annoying. Will you stop it already?”
“Sorry,” Paris wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “It’s just, this is too good. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before–”
Just then Patroclus came back into the room, his hair wet and a towel slung around his neck. Paris quickly shut his mouth.
“What didn’t you see before?” Achilles asked, eyebrows knitted in confusion.
But Paris didn’t answer. Instead, he got up off the bed, stretching and yawning dramatically. “Well, would you look at the time. I should get going. Beauty sleep and all that. Good chat, Achilles.” He patted Achilles on the shoulder, smirking, then glanced over to Patroclus. He glanced back and forth between them a couple times, his smirk growing wider. “You two have a lovely night,” he said, before slipping out the door.
Patroclus looked over at Achilles with raised eyebrows. “What was that all about?”
Achilles could only shrug. “Who knows.”
***
The next day was the group date. The date card instructed the men to meet Helen near the pebbly shore of the lake just next to the resort.
“Hi guys!” Helen greeted them. “I hope you all had a great time on your own yesterday. I’m super excited to see you all again today, especially as I have a fun challenge planned for us: the polar plunge.”
Achilles’ heart dropped. He prayed he’d misheard her.
“That’s right, we’ll be jumping into the icy waters of the lake,” Helen continued, crushing Achilles’ hopes. “But don’t worry, I’ll be doing it along with you all, and afterwards we can warm up together over a bonfire.” She gestured to where a couple of producers had already started a small fire nearby.
Achilles would not survive this. He was already shivering just standing there fully clothed with his hat and scarf, and yet he was supposed to jump into a frigid lake? Briefly, he thought of Paris, who didn’t have to come to the group date and was probably curled up in his nice, warm bed in the cabin. Lucky bastard.
Everyone began stripping down into their swimsuits. Diomedes was the first to run into the water, fully submerging himself and then running back out screaming, and the other men began to follow suit.
Helen walked up to Achilles, who still hadn’t worked up the courage to take off his sweater.
“Come on, Achilles,” she laughed teasingly. “Will you go in together with me? Please?”
Achilles took a deep breath, resigning himself to his fate, and nodded. He lifted his sweater over his head and then wrapped his arms around himself instinctively. Helen laughed again, pulling his arm down so that she could hold his hand, and then leading him towards the water. The pebbles were cold against his bare feet and he found himself shivering and clutching Helen’s hand tightly before they had even stepped into the water.
Helen looked up at him. “Three. Two. One,” she said, and then ran into the water, dragging Achilles with her.
The icy water felt like millions of sharp needles piercing through his skin. He felt the breath knocked from his lungs. Before he knew it they were chest deep, and Helen was telling him to dunk his head under. “Super quick,” she told him, and he did it, feeling sharp pain against his skull. And then they were running back out, slipping over the pebbles, Helen laughing. She let go of his hand. They were back on the shore now, where the rest of the men were all standing around.
The cold air was like a whip against Achilles’ skin. He tried to catch his breath, but couldn’t. He blinked, his vision beginning to blur around the edges. His whole body trembled violently, and he could no longer feel his hands or feet. Suddenly, he felt his legs start to give out beneath him and, panicking, he grabbed onto the arm of the person next to him. Who happened to be Patroclus.
“Hey, hey, you’re alright, I’ve got you.” Patroclus’ voice was soothing. Achilles let his eyes fall shut, leaning more of his weight against him.
“Achilles?” There was a hand cupping his face. “Hey, I need you to open your eyes and look at me, can you do that?”
Achilles blinked his eyes open again. Patroclus’ face was blurry.
“I– I don’t feel well,” Achilles mumbled. Another violent shiver went through him, and he felt his lower lip trembling, tears filling his eyes.
“Okay. You’ll be okay.” Patroclus’ arm was around him, holding him up. “I’m gonna take you back to the cabin, alright?”
Achilles shook his head, which only made him dizzier. “You don’t have to. I’ll be fine in a minute.”
“Don’t be silly,” Patroclus said. “We need to get you out of those wet clothes and somewhere warm. Come on. Do you think you can walk? It isn’t far.”
Achilles nodded. He leaned against Patroclus, and they turned towards the cabin.
Then Helen appeared before them, a tiny crease between her perfect brows. “Achilles…?”
“I think he might have hypothermia,” Patroclus cut her off. “I’m taking him back to the cabin.”
“I’ll come with you,” Helen offered.
“No,” Patroclus said, and Achilles looked up, startled. He had never heard Patroclus sound so stern before. “I’m a doctor. I’ll take care of him.”
“Oh,” Helen nodded, taking a step back. She seemed a bit hurt.
“You should enjoy the rest of your date,” Patroclus told her, his tone gentler this time. “Come check up on him later, okay?”
She nodded again. “Yeah, okay.”
They made it back to the cabin, and Patroclus led Achilles into their room, gently helping him sit down on the bed. Patroclus then took a sweater and sweatpants out of his own suitcase and placed them on the bed beside Achilles.
Patroclus leaned down and squeezed his hand gently. “Do you think you can get changed by yourself?”
“Y– yeah. I’ll be fine.” Achilles said, blushing deeply.
Patroclus searched his face for a moment, and then nodded. “Alright. I’m going to go change in the bathroom. Just come out into the hallway when you’re done.”
When Patroclus had closed the door behind him, Achilles lifted the sweater up to his nose and inhaled deeply. It was rich with Patroclus’ warm, spicy scent. He peeled off his wet swim shorts with some difficulty, his hands still numb and trembling. Then he put on the clothes Patroclus had given him and shakily opened the bedroom door. Patroclus was waiting for him in the hallway, having changed out of his own swimsuit and into a pair of sweats as well. He wrapped his arm around Achilles again and they went into the common room. Patroclus sat him down on a sofa close to the fireplace and then covered him with as many blankets as he could find. Achilles was still shivering, but he was beginning to sense some feeling coming back into his hands and feet.
“I’m going to bring you some warm tea and something to eat,” Patroclus told him, and Achilles nodded, nestling further into the blankets.
As promised, Patroclus returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup of tea and a plate of sandwiches. He set the items on the coffee table and then sat down beside Achilles on the sofa, putting his arm around Achilles’ shoulders and pulling him against his side.
Achilles drank his tea and ate while Patroclus ran his hand soothingly up and down his arm.
“How are you feeling?” Patroclus asked after he had finished.
“I’m better,” Achilles said, and it was true. He wasn’t shaking so much anymore, and he felt safe and warm with Patroclus holding him.
Patroclus nodded. “That’s good. I… I was worried about you.”
Achilles glanced down, his hands fidgeting under the blankets. “I’m sorry.”
Patroclus frowned. “Sorry? For what?”
“For… for ruining the group date for you.” Achilles swallowed. He was so tired, suddenly, and he felt his tears returning. “I’m sure you would rather be out at the bonfire with Helen instead of in here with me.”
He felt Patroclus shift beside him. “Achilles. Look at me.”
Shyly, Achilles glanced up at him. A few tears had slipped onto his cheeks, and Patroclus wiped them away with his thumb.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?” Patroclus said softly. “Honestly… if there’s anyone who should apologize, it’s Helen. You didn’t want to go in the water, and she pressured you, and now…” He trailed off, looking away with a troubled expression.
After a moment his eyes came back to Achilles. “Why don’t you try to get some rest, yeah?”
Achilles nodded, feeling too tired to say anything more.
The last thing he remembered before drifting off was his head in Patroclus’ lap, and Patroclus' fingers carding gently through his hair.
Notes:
meanwhile I'm dying of the heat :'(
Chapter 7
Notes:
Here it is the moment you've all been waiting for Patroclus POV
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Achilles, curled up in his lap like a sleeping kitten, was definitely not the most adorable thing Patroclus had ever seen.
Okay. Maybe it was.
Patroclus sighed, continuing to run his fingers through silky blonde curls. He didn’t know what had come over him lately. Never before had he thought of another man as adorable, and yet when he looked at Achilles it was the first word that came to his mind. But how else could he describe Achilles’ soft little snores, and the way he’d nestled himself under the pile of blankets so that just his head was poking out? Patroclus felt a smile tugging at his lips just looking at him.
He’d been so worried for Achilles after what happened by the lake earlier that day. He could still picture how Achilles had clung to him, shivering and looking so scared and confused. In that moment Patroclus had just wanted to wrap him up in his arms and never let anything hurt him.
He wasn’t sure why he felt so protective of Achilles. He was a doctor, after all, and it was his natural tendency to care for people, but with Achilles it was as if his nurturing instincts went into overdrive. He just felt such a strong need to look after him, and make sure he was happy and safe.
As Patroclus was contemplating this, gazing down at the sleeping boy in his lap, he heard a rustling in the hallway. As he glanced up, Paris walked into the room wearing a bathrobe and some sort of green stuff smeared on his face.
“Oh!” Paris froze when he saw Patroclus, his eyes widening in surprise. “I didn’t think you guys would be back so soon.”
“Yeah,” Patroclus said. “Achilles wasn’t feeling well so we came back early.”
Paris raised his eyebrows, coming to sit down in one of the armchairs. “What happened?”
If Patroclus was honest, he didn’t actually like Paris all that much. However, he knew that he and Achilles were friends, so he made an effort to be polite. He told him about the polar plunge challenge, his arms tightening around Achilles as he recounted how the other man had nearly passed out from the cold.
“Damn,” Paris said when he had finished. “I’m glad I wasn’t there, I can tell you that. You couldn’t have paid me to jump in that water.”
“Mhm,” Patroclus responded absently. His attention had been drawn back to Achilles, who was shifting and mumbling something in his sleep. Patroclus smoothed his hand over his hair and adjusted the blanket so it covered him more snugly.
“So,” Paris said after a moment, drawing out the word slowly. “You and Achilles, hm? How did that start?”
Patroclus looked up. “What?”
Paris was smirking at him, his green face making him look devious. “Was it in the hot tub? The shower?”
When Patroclus didn’t respond, Paris continued: “Or have you just stuck to the bedroom? Pretty convenient that you two are roommates, right?”
Patroclus’ eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on, man. You can tell me about it.” Paris leaned forward, giving Patroclus a meaningful look. “I’m an ally.”
Patroclus stared at him blankly. He was more confused than ever.
Paris opened his mouth again, but suddenly a timer went off from inside his pocket. “Hold that thought,” he said, pulling out his phone to turn it off. “Gotta go rinse off my mask.”
The noise had startled Achilles awake, and he sat up, eyes blinking open in sleepy confusion.
“Yo, Achilles,” Paris said, standing up. “Glad to see you’re not dead. By the way, I bought a couple jars of avocado face mask from the spa yesterday if you want to try it out.”
Achilles, still half asleep, took a moment to process these words, but then his face lit up in a smile. “Yeah, thanks! My skin has been super dry this week.”
“I’ll leave it in your bathroom.”
Patroclus was beginning to see why these two were friends.
“How are you doing?” Patroclus asked softly after Paris had left. He couldn’t help it, his voice always became softer, gentler when he spoke to Achilles.
“I feel a lot better,” Achilles said.
Then, to Patroclus’ surprise, Achilles wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug.
Patroclus chuckled. “What’s this for?”
He could feel the other man’s warm breath against his neck as he spoke. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
Patroclus felt a mix of emotions rise to his chest. It took him by surprise just how sweet and affectionate Achilles could be sometimes.
He held him close, whispering, “Of course, ‘Chilles.”
It wasn’t long before the rest of the guys came back from the group date, filling the room with noise and chaos. The men chatted about all that had happened at the bonfire after Achilles and Patroclus had left. This apparently included Nestor engaging them in a series of campfire songs, which Diomedes and Ajax were still singing as they walked around the cabin. A few of the guys asked how Achilles was feeling, to which he responded that he was doing better, but he didn’t seem to feel up for talking very much. He stayed tucked up against Patroclus’ side underneath his blankets, sipping a cup of peppermint tea that Patroclus had made him.
A while later, Helen came back to the cabin as well. She looked as if she had blow dried her hair and redone her make-up, which Patroclus couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated by. She clearly hadn’t been in any hurry to see if Achilles was okay.
Helen placed herself between Achilles and Patroclus on the sofa and then pulled Achilles into a hug.
“Gods, I was so worried about you,” she said, cupping Achilles’ face with her hand. The camera crew moved in to get a close up of the two of them together.
Patroclus found himself growing more and more pissed as he watched them. It was as if it was all just staged for the show. Did Helen really even care how Achilles was doing? She was the one who had dragged him into the lake in the first place.
He could also see that Achilles was feeling uncomfortable. He wore a strained expression and kept subtly shifting away as Helen pressed herself closer, practically sitting in his lap with her hands roaming all over him.
When she had the nerve to start running her hands through Achilles’ hair in the same way Patroclus had done earlier, he decided enough was enough. He cleared his throat. “Achilles needs to get some more rest now.”
Everyone turned to look at him, the camera moving to capture his face. “That is– in my professional opinion,” he added.
Achilles’ gaze lingered on him for a moment, green eyes blown wide, and then shifted back to Helen. “Patroclus is right. I’m starting to feel pretty tired.”
“Oh,” Helen said, looking between the two of them and nodding slowly. “Of course, I’ll let you be, then.”
When she finally removed herself from him and stood up, Patroclus let go of a breath he hadn't realized he’d been holding.
Helen gave them a practiced smile. “I’ll see you both soon,” she said, before following the producers out of the room.
As soon as she was out of sight, Achilles’ arms were around him again, and he smiled, feeling that things were once again as they should be.
***
That evening, Patroclus made sure Achilles was settled in their room with lots of blankets and warm tea, and then he left to call Briseis. He went outside to a path along the forest's edge near the cabin, enjoying the feel of the crisp mountain air as the sun was just beginning to set.
Briseis was his closest friend from back in Opus. They had gone through med school together and now worked at the same hospital, and he often wondered whether he would have made it so far in his career if it weren’t for her motivation and clear thinking. It was Briseis who had signed him up to be on the Bachelorette, so he made an effort to call and keep her updated while he was here.
“Tell me everything,” Briseis said by way of greeting.
Patroclus laughed. “Hello to you too.”
“Pat, I just worked the longest shift of my life and you know I live vicariously through your drama. Let’s hear it.”
“Alright,” he said, grinning through the phone. It had been a while since they’d talked and he’d actually missed her intensity. He began telling her about his week.
When he finished, the other end of the line was suspiciously quiet. “Bri? Are you still there?”
“Mhm. I’m just thinking.”
“About?”
“Well,” Briseis began slowly. “I’m thinking, you’re supposed to be dating Helen, right?”
“Yes…” Patroclus responded cautiously. He sensed that they were entering Overanalyzing Patroclus’ Life territory.
“I just think it’s a bit odd,” Briseis continued, “that what you just told me was, like, two percent about Helen and ninety-eight percent about this Achilles dude.”
“I– Well–” Patroclus faltered defensively. “Achilles is my friend.”
“Right.” Briseis said, and he could hear the sarcasm laced in her voice. “Your friend who, I quote, has a smile as bright and beautiful as the sun.”
“It was simply an analogy.”
“Pat. Tell me you’re not actually this oblivious.”
Patroclus could practically see the judgmental expression on her face. “Bri…” he said hesitantly, “I don’t know what you’re implying.”
He heard Briseis sigh in disappointment. “Okay. Wow. You really are this oblivious.”
There was some commotion on the other end that sounded like a door opening, and then Briseis’ voice came through again. “Hey, I have to get going. Chryseis is coming over for girl’s night,” she said. “Just… listen, Pat. You came on this show to fall in love, right? Love doesn’t always happen in the way we expect it to. And that’s okay.”
“...Okay?”
“Ugh. You’ll figure it out eventually. Gotta go, have fun!”
“Bye, say hi to Chryseis for me,” he said, though he was still confused as to what the latter half of their conversation had been about.
Patroclus didn’t give much thought to what Briseis had said. Honestly, she was always coming up with strange theories about his love life that never amounted to anything – it was what had landed him on this show in the first place.
Instead, he made his way back toward the cabin, eager to return to Achilles and their warm, cozy room. Patroclus had had his fair share of roommates throughout his college years, but he had never expected that he could enjoy sharing a room with someone as much as he did with Achilles. He found comfort in falling asleep to the sound of Achilles’ quiet breathing and waking up to see the morning sun pooling over his golden hair. He liked just knowing that Achilles would be there, in the bed across from him, that he wasn’t alone. And there were other things, too. Every time Achilles took a shower, their room would be filled with the sweet aroma of his soaps or oils or whatever it was he used, which Patroclus absolutely loved. While Achilles was getting ready in the mornings or before bed, going through his long and complicated beauty routine, he would often hum or sing a little something, and he had such a beautiful voice – high and clear – that Patroclus could listen to it all day.
Most of all, he loved the conversations he and Achilles would share in their room together, where it was just the two of them. He had never felt so comfortable around someone as quickly as he did with Achilles. Usually, it took Patroclus a while to open up to people, but after only a few weeks of knowing Achilles he already felt like he could talk to him about anything and everything. And he found that he was curious to know everything he could about the other man as well.
When Patroclus walked into the bedroom he saw that Achilles’ face was smeared with green just like Paris’ had been earlier.
Patroclus laughed at him. “Gods, what does that stuff do, anyways?”
“It’s a hydrating avocado mask,” Achilles said seriously. He looked at Patroclus thoughtfully for a moment, then asked, “Do you want to try some?”
Patroclus would hate to see Achilles disappointed. He knew how passionate he was about this skincare stuff. So, he gave an exasperated smile. “Sure, why not.”
Achilles grinned, leading him into the bathroom.
“Here,” Achilles said, handing him the jar of green cream. “It’s a special formula to bring moisture and nutrients to the skin.”
Patroclus eyed it suspiciously before scooping up a glob of the stuff and raising it to his face.
“Wait,” Achilles laughed, grabbing his wrist. “You’re putting on way too much. You only need a thin layer.” He glanced up shyly. “May I?”
Patroclus nodded.
He went still as Achilles’ fingers met his face, smoothing the cream over his skin while carefully avoiding his beard and eyes. Achilles was so gentle, so precise. Patroclus found himself staring at the way his lips parted in concentration, the tip of his tongue poking out.
“All done,” Achilles announced, taking a step back, and Patroclus blinked as if pulled out of a trance.
“Now what?” he asked.
Achilles gave him a small smile. “Now we wait.”
***
At the end of the week, a card arrived to announce the cocktail party and rose ceremony. Helen wrote that this week would be no ordinary cocktail party, but would rather be in the style of a winter formal.
Achilles was very excited about this, and Patroclus watched fondly as he searched through his luggage for the perfect suit to wear. He decided on a dark green one with a golden tie, and when he stepped out of their room on the night of the party, the sight of him took Patroclus’ breath away. He’d styled his hair so that his blonde curls were pushed up and out of his face, exposing his fair skin and vibrant green eyes. On his wrist was the delicate golden bracelet Patroclus had given him.
“Achilles, you look… wonderful.”
Achilles blushed so much even the tips of his ears went red. “Thank you, Patroclus. You–” he met his eyes shyly, “you look really handsome too.”
The party took place at a ballroom near their resort. It was decorated with beautiful chandeliers and candlelight, and had large glass windows where they could see the alps and the snow falling outside. In a corner of the room was a small stage with a string quartet.
As the evening commenced, Achilles stayed close to Patroclus, following him around to the champagne and hors devours tables and holding onto his arm as he talked with Podalirius and Machaeon. He’d noticed that Achilles had been a bit clingy ever since the group date, but he didn’t really mind. However, he did want a chance to talk with Helen tonight. He’d been cold towards her the other day, letting his concern for Achilles get the best of his emotions, and he figured it would be best to clear the air with her before the rose ceremony – but this was proving difficult with Achilles trailing after him like a shadow.
As they were standing at one of the champagne tables together, he gently removed Achilles’ hand from his sleeve and leaned in to speak to him over the music.
“I’m going to chat with Helen for a bit. I’ll find you again later, alright?”
“Oh. Alright.” Achilles nodded, but a shadow seemed to have fallen over his face.
“I’ll be back soon, I promise,” Patroclus said, squeezing Achilles’ hand before making his way to where Helen sat on the other side of the room.
“Patroclus, hi there,” Helen smiled at him, standing up to kiss his cheeks in greeting. She was wearing a big puffy ball gown and her hair was done up in a complicated braid.
As he sat down with her at the little white table, his gaze drifted back to Achilles. He was still standing where Patroclus had left him, staring solemnly into his champagne glass, and Patroclus felt a wave of guilt go through him. Gods, he shouldn’t have left him alone like that.
“Patroclus?” Helen’s voice brought him back to her.
“Hm?” he said. “Sorry, did you say something?”
She laughed. “I said, you seem distracted tonight. Is there something on your mind?”
Patroclus realized she was right. He was letting his concern for his friend cloud his thoughts, and it was distracting him from the reason he was really here – to date Helen.
He shook his head, fixing his eyes on her with a smile. “It’s nothing.”
The two of them talked for a while before Helen was inevitably whisked away into conversations with some of the other men. Patroclus too was roped into discussions with some of the others. At some point he found himself listening to Nestor tell a particularly long story about his wedding to his first wife.
Later in the evening, the music picked up and a few of the men asked Helen to dance. Patroclus thought he would also take a turn with her, but when he was finally able to part ways with Nestor to look for her, he found that she was sitting at a table right between Achilles and Paris.
As he walked up to them, he tried to focus on Helen but his eyes betrayed him, continuously wandering back to Achilles.
Achilles looked up at him, the candlelight flickering in his wide green eyes and a rosy blush rising to his cheeks. “Hi,” he said softly.
“Hi,” Patroclus replied, getting lost for a moment in how the lights danced over Achilles’ features. He really did look lovely tonight.
Then he remembered why he’d come over there. “Would you mind if I steal Helen away for a moment?”
Achilles’ face fell for the second time that night. However, he quickly schooled his expression into a tight smile. “Of course not, go ahead.”
Patroclus took Helen’s hand and helped her out of her chair. He glanced over to see that Paris was watching them with a hard expression, his lips drawn into a thin line.
Patroclus ignored him, leading Helen onto the dance floor and placing a hand on her waist, pulling her closer as they began to sway with the music. As he danced with Helen, he couldn’t help but look over her shoulder to where Achilles and Paris were still sitting. He was surprised to find Achilles staring right back at him, and something in his eyes troubled Patroclus. He looked… upset. Paris had moved closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and saying something, but Achilles brushed him off. After a moment he stood up, leaving Paris and walking towards the back exit of the ballroom. Patroclus’ brows furrowed with worry.
Then suddenly Paris was standing in front of them, looking at Patroclus coolly before turning to Helen.
“Darling, may I have the next dance?” he asked her.
As Patroclus stepped back from Helen, Paris caught the front of his shirt and pulled him close enough to whisper in his ear. “Stop being a dick and go talk to him.” Then he let go and smiled at Helen as if nothing had happened.
Confused, Patroclus let them be and went to look for Achilles. He found him just outside the doors, standing on the snowy path facing away from the ballroom.
Achilles startled and turned around at the sound of the doors opening. He was trembling, arms wrapped around himself, and his eyes were red with tears.
Patroclus’ mind raced with worry. He couldn’t imagine what would have made his friend so upset. He stepped towards him, taking off his suit jacket and draping it over Achilles’ shoulders. “Here,” he said softly, “You’re shivering.”
“Thanks,” Achilles replied quietly.
“Achilles… please, tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been crying.”
Achilles didn’t respond for a long moment. Patroclus stepped forward and took his hands, running his thumbs soothingly over his knuckles.
“It’s just– I was just jealous,” he finally said.
Patroclus frowned. “Jealous? Why?”
“Because… because Helen likes you so much. I. Um. I wish she liked me like that.”
Patroclus stared at him in disbelief. “Achilles, Helen adores you. You have nothing to be jealous of.”
Achilles gave him a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re probably right,” he said. “I’m just being silly.”
He could see there was something the other man wasn’t telling him, and he ached to know what it was.
“Achilles,” he whispered, realizing suddenly how close they were, their hands clasped together and faces just centimeters apart. He watched as the snowflakes landed on Achilles’ eyelashes and the fine blonde curls that framed his face.
Then, without meaning to, his gaze fell to his lips. Achilles' lips were so plump and pink, and curved into a perfect cupid’s bow. Patroclus couldn’t help but stare.
When he glanced up again, Achilles’ eyes had fluttered shut. He leaned a bit closer, the tips of their noses touching…
“Hey guys I found them! Oh–”
Before he'd even realized what was happening, Patroclus had placed both hands on Achilles’ chest and shoved him away, quickly turning around to see Menelaus standing in the doorway.
Menelaus cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, sorry to… interrupt. Aphrodite is looking for you two. We’re about to start the rose ceremony.”
Patroclus felt his eyes grow wide. “Menelaus, this isn’t– I mean we weren’t–”
Menelaus blushed with embarrassment, looking like he would rather be anywhere else. “Hey, it’s all good man. I’ll go tell them you’ll be in in a minute, yeah?”
As Menelaus walked back inside, Patroclus turned to Achilles. The other man was completely still, eyes fixed on the ground.
“Achilles?”
Achilles looked up, revealing thick tears running down his cheeks. Patroclus panicked, words falling out of his mouth.
“Achilles, I’m so sorry I pushed you. I just– I didn’t want Menelaus to get the wrong idea, you know?”
Achilles shook his head, wiping at his cheeks with the back of his hand. He wouldn’t meet Patroclus’ eyes. “Let’s just go,” he said, so quietly Patroclus almost didn’t hear, and he walked past him into the ballroom.
Notes:
Uhhhh sorry to end the chapter on this note. It'll get better :) Let me know how you liked Pat's POV :) Next chapter will be back to Achilles but I might add some more Patroclus later on
Chapter Text
It took all of Achilles’ strength to not fall apart during the rose ceremony.
He had never been skilled at concealing his emotions. Ever since he was little he would cry and throw tantrums at the smallest inconveniences, much to Thetis and Peleus’ dismay. He wore his heart on his sleeve, as the saying goes. So now, when his heart had been broken into about a billion pieces, he was just barely holding himself together.
All he could think of was the look on Patroclus’ face as he’d pushed him away. The disgust. The shame. It seemed the image would be burned in Achilles' mind forever.
“Achilles.”
He looked up. Helen stood at the front of the room, holding a rose and smiling at him expectantly. Right, he could do this. He took a deep breath, praying the cameras wouldn't zoom in too closely on his tear-stained face.
He stepped forward and allowed Helen to pin the rose to his shirt. All the while he could feel Patroclus’ eyes on him, but he willed himself not to look back.
When the ceremony came to an end and Menestheus and Elephenor were saying their farewells, Achilles slipped out of the room and practically sprinted back to the sleeping quarters.
He immediately locked himself in the bathroom, leaning his back against the door and then sliding down until he sat on the floor, knees tucked into his chest. Only then did he let his face fall into his hands and his tears flow freely.
His shoulders shook with sobs. He had never felt so humiliated. He couldn’t believe he’d been so foolish to think that Patroclus might actually like him back. Not only that, he’d actually tried to kiss him. How pathetic he must have looked, throwing himself at a man who clearly wasn’t interested.
Patroclus would probably never want to speak to him again, and he couldn’t blame him.
Achilles cried until his chest hurt, his breaths coming in gasps. Eventually, he managed to haul himself off the floor and take a long, hot shower. He deep conditioned his hair and used a lavender scented oil on his skin to help calm his nerves. Then, he dried off and put on his fluffy purple bathrobe, stepping in front of the mirror to go through his nighttime routine. Unfortunately his moisturizer did nothing to remedy the now red, puffy skin around his eyes.
He stalled in the bathroom as long as possible. He dreaded the thought of returning to his bedroom and facing Patroclus. What if Patroclus wouldn’t even be comfortable sleeping in the same room with him anymore?
He decided he couldn’t bear to find out. He would go to Paris’ room instead; the other man probably wouldn’t mind if Achilles slept on his floor.
Cautiously, he stepped into the corridor and looked in either direction. No sign of Patroclus. He walked over to Paris’ room, a few doors down from his own, and knocked on the door. There was no answer, though he could hear an indistinct sound coming from inside.
He tried again, this time calling through the door. “Paris?”
When there was still no response, Achilles decided he would just let himself in. Maybe Paris was already asleep. He turned the handle and peered inside. However, the sight before him filled him with immediate regret.
Paris and Helen were in bed together, both very much… occupied. Achilles’ mouth fell open, staring in horror for a moment before coming to his senses and slamming the door shut again. Then he stood frozen in the corridor, trying to erase the scene he’d just witnessed from his mind and reevaluating his plan for the night. He supposed he could just go sleep in the bathtub, if nothing else…
From the other side of the door he heard Helen gasp, something crash and then Paris muttering curses. Suddenly the door flung open and Paris stood there with a sheet wrapped around his waist and traces of lipstick smeared over his mouth and chest.
“Hey man,” Paris smiled as if these were perfectly normal circumstances. He glanced back into the room, then stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind him. “What’s up?”
Achilles shook his head. “It’s nothing. I’m sorry I barged in like that. I just – I’ll just go.”
“Hey.” Paris caught his wrist before he could turn around. “Don’t worry about that. It wasn’t exactly going the way I wanted it to, anyways.”
Achilles gave him a questioning look. Paris had certainly looked like he was enjoying himself well enough.
Paris made a dismissive gesture. “I’ll tell you later.” He stepped closer, studying Achilles’ face. “What happened to you? You look like shit, dude.”
Achilles shook his head again. “It’s really nothing.”
Paris leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “Come on, talk to me. Is it boy troubles?”
Achilles looked at him for a moment, hesitating. Paris could be arrogant and annoying, but ever since he’d come on the show he’d tried to be Achilles’ friend, and he’d never done anything to indicate that he couldn’t trust him. And well, Achilles did really need someone to talk to right now.
“I fucked everything up,” he said quietly.
Paris tilted his head. “How so?”
“I – I tried to kiss him.” Saying the words out loud made his face burn with shame.
Paris stared at him blankly. “Okay. I’m not seeing the problem here.”
Achilles sighed, covering his face with his hands. “You don’t get it. I tried to kiss him and he didn’t want it. He pushed me away from him. He – he doesn’t want me.” His voice broke on the last sentence, all his emotions rising to the surface again.
“What, he said that to you? That he doesn’t want you?”
“Well, no,” Achilles muttered, wiping at the fresh tears that had spilled onto his face, “but it was implied.”
Paris didn’t look convinced. He started to say something, but the sound of the door opening behind them cut him off. Helen stepped out of the bedroom, wearing an oversized t-shirt and shorts that presumably belonged to Paris.
“Hey,” she said softly, looking between them with concern. “Is everything alright?”
“His cat died.” Paris blurted out. Achilles turned to glare at him but the other man just shrugged.
“Oh my goodness!” Helen said. “I’m so sorry, Achilles. No wonder you’re upset.”
Achilles cleared his throat. He supposed he had no choice but to go along with it – it was better than Helen finding out the truth. “Uh, yeah…we were very close.”
Helen made a sympathetic noise. “Oh, you poor thing. I know just the thing to make you feel better.”
And that’s how he ended up sitting between Paris and Helen on the bed, watching a rom-com and passing around a leftover bottle of wine from the party. Achilles tried not to think about the things that had just been happening on this bed, but he was honestly too exhausted to care. He fell asleep about halfway through the film, worn out from crying and hopeful that Hypnos would bring him some peace after this terrible evening.
***
Achilles woke up to a pillow hitting him in the face. His eyes blinked open in irritation and he glanced around. Paris knelt beside the bed, stuffing things chaotically into a suitcase. Helen was nowhere to be seen.
“Morning, sunshine,” Paris said without looking up. “You have, like, twenty minutes to be packed and ready. I tried waking you up earlier but you were out like the dead.”
Achilles sat bolt upright, cursing to himself. They would be traveling to the show’s next destination today and their flight left that morning. He stumbled out of bed, rushing to go get ready. He would have to skip a few steps in his morning routine, but there was nothing for it. What didn’t help was that he felt absolutely awful. He had a pounding headache and the few hours of sleep he’d gotten had done nothing to ease the memory of Patroclus’ rejection.
He sighed in relief when he found that their bedroom was empty. Patroclus must have already packed and gone to sit in the common room with the others. Achilles quickly packed his own suitcases, nervously glancing over his shoulder all the while in case the other man returned.
When he’d finished, he and Paris gathered their things and went into the common room together. Achilles' gaze found Patroclus immediately. He was sitting by himself at a small round table, a book and a mug of coffee spread out before him. He glanced up and his eyes met Achilles’ from across the room. Then, to Achilles’ horror he stood up and started walking towards them.
Achilles panicked, clutching onto Paris’ sleeve. “Fuck!” he whispered. “He’s coming over here! What do I do?”
“Just act normal,” Paris said. “I have a plan.”
“Hey,” said Patroclus, now standing before them.
Achilles was surprised to notice that Patroclus looked just as exhausted as he felt. The other man had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was disheveled. And yet, he was still intimidatingly handsome, his presence making Achilles’ heart speed up and his stomach twist in knots.
“Hi,” he replied, breath catching in his throat.
Patroclus’ brows were furrowed with worry. “You didn’t come back to our room last night. Were you okay?” he asked softly.
Achilles’ heart filled with guilt. Of course Patroclus was kind enough to worry about him even after his unspeakable behavior.
“I – um, yeah, I was fine,” Achilles said, his face heating up.
“We were having a sleepover,” Paris cut in, throwing an arm around Achilles’ shoulders. “Weren’t we?”
Achilles nodded, eyeing Paris suspiciously. “Yeah. A sleepover.”
“Oh.” Patroclus frowned a little, glancing between the two of them. “I see.”
“Yep,” Paris continued, a mischievous smirk spreading over his face. He pulled Achilles a bit closer. “We even slept in the same bed, didn’t we? It was very cozy.”
Achilles scowled at Paris. What did he think he was doing? But the other man just grinned, then turned back to Patroclus. “What do you think about that, Pat? Don’t you just love sleepovers?”
Patroclus’ frown deepened. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Well. I’m glad you two had a nice evening,” he said eventually, though his expression said something quite different. “Excuse me, I think there’s something I forgot to pack.”
Patroclus walked away, and Achilles shoved Paris off of him, giving him a deadly glare. “What the fuck was that?”
Paris broke into laughter. “Did you see his face? Oh my gods–”
Achilles placed his hands on his hips, unimpressed.
“I was trying to make him jealous,” Paris explained, still grinning. “And you know what? It worked. Your boyfriend definitely hates me now.”
“He’s not the only one,” Achilles muttered.
***
On the plane, Paris continued to develop his “plan” to make Patroclus jealous.
“What if you hook up with one of the other guys?” he asked Achilles, who had been forced to sit beside him.
“That is not happening.”
“Why not?” Paris frowned. “I mean, what about Nireus? He’s pretty cute.”
Achilles looked at him coldly. “Are you blind? He’s nothing compared to Patroclus.”
Paris threw his hands up in surrender. “Gods, it was just a suggestion. What about Machaeon, then? He has that sexy doctor vibe, if that’s what you’re into.”
Achilles pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please. I am not going to hook up with any of these guys.”
Paris sighed. “Fair enough. You don’t have the best options here.”
He studied Achilles thoughtfully for a moment. “Listen, I’m going to make you a pretty generous offer. For one hundred dollars, I’d make out with you in front of Pat.”
“Gods give me strength.” Achilles placed his face in his hands. He cursed that he was trapped on an airplane and couldn’t get away from this menace.
“I’m tired of talking about this,” he said instead. “Why don’t you tell me what happened with you and Helen last night? You two really… did it?”
Paris smirked. “What, you didn’t think I would wait until the Fantasy Suites, did you?”
Achilles shrugged. “Well? Was it good? You seemed like something was off.”
“Yeah, it was good. So good.” Then Paris’ smile faltered. “But just before you came in, I was eating her out, you know?”
“Gross,” Achilles said. “I already saw it. I don’t need to relive it.”
Paris waved his hand dismissively. “Just listen. I was doing my thing, right? And she was enjoying herself and everything. But then I hit this one spot and she was like – oh, Mene .”
“Mene?”
“Mene.” Paris spat out the word as if it were poison. “As in, Menelaus.”
“Oh.” Achilles said. “Oh, shit. You’re sure that’s what she said?”
Paris nodded solemnly. “Positive.”
“Do you think that means they’ve –”
“They must have. Or she wants them to, at least. I don’t know which is worse.”
“Did you, y’know, talk about it?” Achilles asked.
Paris shook his head. “We both just moved on as if it hadn’t happened. And then you came in a few minutes later, and it was over anyway.”
“Shit, I’m sorry man,” Achilles said. Paris really did look miserable.
The other man gave him a half-hearted smile. “Love sucks, doesn’t it?”
Achilles had to agree.
***
The cast arrived in Barcelona just as the afternoon sun was high in the sky. Achilles was more than happy to once again be somewhere warm, and he basked in the feeling of the sea breeze through his hair as he stepped off the plane. However, his moment of joy ended when he realized he would still have to share a room with Patroclus at the new resort where they would stay.
The resort was gorgeous, with bright, colorful decor and palm trees lining a path to the beach, but Achilles could hardly notice it over the nervous pounding of his heart.
He walked in to find that Patroclus was already in their room, unfolding some of his clothes and hanging them in the wardrobe. Patroclus looked up when he entered, big brown eyes settling on Achilles and making his knees go wobbly.
“Hi,” Patroclus said simply.
“Hi,” Achilles replied. He tried to act normal, going to his own side of the room and beginning to unpack his clothes. However, there was clearly a tension between them that hadn’t been there before.
Patroclus cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize you and Paris were so close.”
Achilles glanced up, startled, his hands freezing on the shirt he’d been unfolding. “Oh… yeah,” he said slowly. “We’re friends, I guess.”
“Oh.” Patroclus nodded stiffly. “Good. That’s… good.”
Achilles looked at Patroclus curiously. Was it possible he really was jealous? The thought sent a thrill through Achilles.
“I was thinking,” Patroclus continued, “Maybe you and I could do something tonight? Together. If you’re not already too busy with Paris, that is.”
Achilles bit his lip to stop himself from grinning stupidly. “I’m not too busy.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking and settling into the resort along with the other men. Achilles could hardly contain his nervous anticipation for what Patroclus had planned for them later. However, at the same time he knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up again.
When the evening finally arrived, Patroclus suggested they go for a walk down to the beach. The sun was just beginning to set, casting an orange glow over the water, and the air was pleasantly warm. Achilles stole subtle glances at the man beside him as they walked down the sandy path. He desperately wished to know what Patroclus was thinking.
“Do you want to sit down?” Patroclus asked, breaking the silence between them. They had reached the shore, and they stood before a large flat rock that looked out over the water.
“Sure,” Achilles nodded.
They sat down, their arms brushing together just slightly. Achilles glanced over to see the warm breeze rustle through Patroclus’ dark curls. The other man looked deep in thought.
Suddenly Patroclus turned to face him, and Achilles’ breath hitched in his throat. Patroclus looked so beautiful with the sunset behind him like this. Achilles wanted nothing more than to lean in, but he willed himself not to get carried away again. Straight, he reminded himself for the hundredth time. Patroclus is straight. He doesn’t want you.
“Can I ask you something?” Patroclus said, his voice soft beneath the crash of the waves.
Achilles nodded. “Of course.”
“Last night, before Menelaus interrupted us…” Patroclus drifted off, his brows furrowed into a troubled expression.
Achilles sat at the edge of his seat, heart beating fast. “Yes?”
“Did you think that we would– I mean, did you want to…” Patroclus trailed off again, then he sighed and turned away, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck, this is hard. Sorry.”
Achilles' heart sank as he realized what was happening. Patroclus was trying to let him down gently, to tell him that he didn’t want whatever had been about to happen last night. However, he clearly didn’t want to hurt Achilles’ feelings and was struggling to find the words.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” Achilles said quickly, hoping to save him the trouble. “I mean, it doesn’t matter. I just got caught up in the moment, that’s all.”
“Oh. Right.” Patroclus looked… disappointed?
Achilles didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want Patroclus to feel guilty about this. After all, it wasn’t his fault that Achilles had a big, embarrassing crush on him. He looked down at his hand, resting on the cool rock beneath them, and Patroclus’ right beside it.
Then Patroclus spoke again. “I think I got caught up in the moment, too,” he said quietly.
Achilles glanced over at him in surprise, but Patroclus was looking down, at the place where their hands rested on the rock.
“I think…” Patroclus repeated, and Achilles watched in wonder as the other man moved his hand a fraction closer, until it brushed against his own. Gently, hesitantly, Patroclus linked their pinkies together. “I think I get caught up in the moment quite a lot, when I’m with you.”
Notes:
thanksssss for reading <3<3<3
Chapter 9
Notes:
Surprise it's more Patroclus POV :)
Chapter Text
Patroclus had no idea what he was doing.
His senses were filled with Achilles, making everything hazy and confused. Achilles’ green eyes stared back at him, wide and curious, and Patroclus felt his heart begin to race. The sweet scent of Achilles’ shampoo drifted towards him with the breeze, and he lost his train of thought.
Achilles, Achilles, Achilles.
This sweet boy who sat beside him, gazing at Patroclus with so much trust and hope even after he’d hurt him.
Patroclus knew only two things for certain. First, he never wanted to make Achilles cry again like he had when he’d pushed him the other night. And second, right now, he really wanted to hold Achilles’ hand.
They were already part-way there, pinkies wrapped around each other. It was such a small gesture and yet it felt like something monumental. It felt like the first step towards… something. Patroclus wasn’t sure what that something was, but he thought he wanted to find out, and he was pretty sure Achilles did too.
Patroclus took a deep breath. Carefully, as if handling something fragile, he turned Achilles’ hand over and then covered it with his own. He laced their fingers together, feeling the warmth of Achilles’ palm in his.
When he looked up again, he saw that the man beside him had gone red as a tomato.
“Is this… okay?” Patroclus asked hesitantly.
Achilles opened his mouth, then closed it again. He seemed unable to form words.
Patroclus’ eyebrows drew together in concern. He started to pull away, thinking perhaps he’d gotten this all wrong, but then Achilles gripped his hand tightly.
“No! I mean, yes, it’s okay! It’s– it’s very okay.”
Patroclus looked at him carefully. Achilles was still blushing deeply, and Patroclus could practically feel the nervous energy radiating off of him. “You’re sure?” he asked.
Achilles nodded, clutching Patroclus’ hand so tightly that it began to hurt.
Patroclus gave him a gentle smile, running his thumb back and forth over Achilles’ hand. “You’re positive?”
Achilles giggled, his grip loosening just a bit. “Yes, Patroclus.”
Patroclus’ smile grew wider. “You’re sure that you’re positive?”
Achilles laughed, head tilted back, his face like the sun. “Yes, yes.”
They stayed there, holding hands, until the sky grew dark and the stars became visible. Then they stayed a while longer, pointing out the constellations and talking in low voices, words carried away with the crash of the waves.
Later, they walked back up the path to the house, hands still clasped together. Patroclus was reluctant to let the night come to a close. It felt as if he and Achilles had entered their own little world, and he didn’t want to return to the reality of cameras and cocktail parties and a house full of other men.
“Do you want a cup of tea?” he asked once they’d reached the door, squeezing Achilles’ hand gently.
Achilles gave him his sunshine smile. “I would love one.”
Inside, the house was strangely quiet. It seemed they’d stayed out later than Patroclus had thought, and the other men were already in bed.
They went to the kitchen, and Patroclus began to prepare the tea, putting the kettle on and taking two mugs out of the cupboard. Achilles sat atop the counter, feet dangling, watching him.
“Can I help you?” Achilles asked after a moment, his voice breaking through the peaceful quiet that had settled in the room.
Patroclus glanced up at him. Even in the dim light of the kitchen Achilles was so captivating – his blonde curls windblown, his green eyes vibrant as ever. Patroclus found himself staring, and only when he heard the water begin to boil did he snap out of it.
“Nope,” he said, feeling a smile curl onto his lips as he turned back to the tea. “You just sit there and look pretty.”
Achilles’ mouth fell open, his cheeks turned red, and Patroclus chuckled softly to himself. Achilles was so easy to read, so honest, so easily flustered. Patroclus couldn’t help but tease him once in a while, just to see him blush like that.
Patroclus poured two mugs of chamomile tea, then carried them over to where Achilles sat. The other man spread his legs, making room for Patroclus to step between them and hand him his tea.
“Here you go,” Patroclus gave him the steaming cup carefully, their hands brushing together.
Achilles looked up at him shyly. “Thank you.”
They both took small sips of their tea. Patroclus was still standing in front of Achilles, close enough to feel the other man’s breath as he blew into his cup to cool it down.
“Mm, it’s good,” Achilles said, taking another sip. “It always tastes better when you make it, Patroclus.”
Patroclus chuckled. “Is that so?”
Achilles nodded, smile hidden behind his mug. “Mhm.”
Patroclus shook his head, still smiling. He didn’t think he’d ever smiled as much as he had this evening. He was just so happy that Achilles seemed happy again, and that things were alright between the two of them.
“You’re sweet,” he said, his hand dropping to Achilles’ thigh and giving it a squeeze.
He’d hardly even realized what he’d done until he saw Achilles’ eyes go wide and deep blush rise to his cheeks. He looked down at his hand on Achilles’ bare thigh, just below his shorts, and felt his own face heat up as well.
Patroclus cleared his throat, taking a step back. “Well. I guess we should get to bed soon, yeah?”
Achilles nodded, still blushing hard. “Y- yeah.”
***
The next morning, Patroclus woke to the sound of Paris yelling from the common room.
“All I’m saying is, he’s being a little bitch!”
Next came Diomedes’ voice, just as loud. “Bro, why are you even upset? You literally went on the one-on-one last week.”
“Yeah,” boomed Odysseus. “If anyone’s being a bitch, Paris, it’s you.”
Patroclus sighed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. It was too early for this.
In the bed across from him Achilles was still fast asleep, a mess of blonde curls poking out from beneath his blankets. He let his eyes rest on Achilles for a moment, his lips curling into a small smile as he remembered the night before. He thought of how nice it had felt to hold Achilles’ hand, how he might like to do it again. And maybe… maybe he’d like to do even more than that.
Patroclus shook those thoughts from his head, getting up and making his way to the common room. He sat down next to Antilochus, who was on the couch with a bowl of cereal.
“What’s going on here?” Patroclus asked, nodding to where a group of the men stood yelling at each other, the camera crew capturing everything.
“Oh, nothing too exciting,” Antilochus said through a mouthful of cereal. “Menelaus is going on the one-on-one. Paris is throwing a tantrum about it.”
“Oh.” Patroclus nodded, settling back on the couch to watch the drama unfold.
“So you’re all against me now? That’s how it is?” Paris was snarling, glaring at the other men.
“Yeah, because you’re being a whiny brat,” Odysseus replied.
“No one asked you, ugly!”
Meanwhile Menelaus sat in the corner, staring into the camera like Jim from the office.
This went on for some time. After a while Achilles came into the room as well, wrapped as usual in his fluffy blanket, his hair a mess. His eyes met Patroclus’ from across the room and he smiled shyly before walking over to him.
“Hey, you,” Patroclus smiled once Achilles had come closer.
“Morning,” Achilles said, voice still scratchy with sleep.
“Come here,” Patroclus said, patting the space beside him on the couch.
Achilles sat down, and Patroclus immediately wrapped him up in his arms. He couldn’t help it; Achilles had just looked so soft and cuddly. “Good morning,” he mumbled into Achilles’ hair.
Achilles hugged him back without hesitation, giggling and tucking his face into the crook of Patroclus’ neck. It hit Patroclus suddenly, with a flood of warmth to his chest, just how much he cared for this boy. It felt so comforting just to hold Achilles like this, warm and sleepy in his arms, and to know that he was safe and happy.
He pulled back to see Achilles grinning at him, eyes shining with joy. “What’s that for?” he asked.
Patroclus shrugged, unable to stop the smile from spreading onto his own face as well. “Just felt like it.”
From the corner of his eye Patroclus noticed Antilochus giving them a strange look, but he couldn’t be bothered by it. What was so wrong about Patroclus hugging his friend, anyway? He simply wouldn’t take part in this show’s toxic masculinity.
They spent the rest of the morning lazily hanging about the common room, Achilles curled up at Patroclus’ side. Paris eventually stormed away to his bedroom, leaving the others with some peace. Then Diomedes read the card for the group date aloud to everyone. It sounded like they would be going hiking, and Patroclus found himself looking forward to enjoying the nice weather and scenic views.
Before the date, Patroclus threw on a simple t-shirt and shorts, while Achilles, as usual, spent ages in the bathroom getting ready. However, when Achilles finally stepped out into the corridor, Patroclus thought his jaw might drop to the floor. Achilles was wearing the tiniest, tightest pair of shorts imaginable, and a tank top that just barely reached his waist, revealing a sliver of smooth golden skin. His blonde curls were pushed back by a hot-pink, 80s style headband.
“Ready to go?” Achilles jogged over to him, smiling brightly.
On the one hand, Achilles’ outfit looked like it belonged in the last century, and yet he somehow made it look… exquisite? irresistible? Patroclus didn’t have the words. He was very warm, suddenly, and his throat felt dry. He could only nod, tearing his eyes away from Achilles and reaching for his water bottle.
The men met Helen a short distance from the resort, where she greeted them and announced that they would be hiking along one of Barcelona’s most beautiful coastal trails, as well as visiting a historic monastery. As they began the hike, the feud that had occurred earlier was clearly still in the air. Paris clung to Helen like a leech, while Diomedes and Odysseus shot him dirty looks and snide comments. Meanwhile, Nestor was trying his best to diffuse the tension, but was also already panting and wheezing from the exertion of the hike. Patroclus was a bit worried that he would have to step into his doctor role if the old man’s condition became any worse.
He and Achilles walked beside each other, their hands brushing against each other every so often. It sent a warm feeling through Patroclus each time it happened, and he had to resist the urge to simply catch Achilles’ hand in his as he’d done last night.
The view was truly beautiful, with the sea on one side and stunning rock formations on the other. However, if he was honest Patroclus had trouble keeping his eyes on anything but Achilles. His eyes were drawn to the curve of Achilles’ biceps in that tank top, to the way those shorts clung to his ass.
It was almost as if Achilles was distracting him on purpose, swaying his hips as he walked, arching his back when he knew Patroclus was looking. It was driving Patroclus mad.
Somehow, Helen had managed to extricate herself from Paris and was taking turns chatting with each of the guys as they walked. Patroclus smiled politely when she came up beside him, trying to clear any indecent thoughts from his head.
“What do you think of Spain so far?” Helen smiled, her blonde ponytail bouncing behind her.
“It’s beautiful,” Patroclus began. “I’m really excited to see the monastery. I read that it’s–”
A few paces ahead of them, Achilles had bent over to tie his shoe, his bum sticking up in the air, and Patroclus nearly tripped over a rock on the trail.
“Patroclus?” He vaguely registered Helen’s voice at his side. “Are you alright?”
“Huh?” Patroclus turned to her apologetically. “Yeah, sorry, what was I saying?”
As they continued talking, Patroclus mentally cursed himself for his carelessness. Gods, did he really just get so distracted staring at another guy’s ass that he couldn’t even hold a conversation with Helen? Helen, the woman he was dating! Patroclus decided he needed to get a grip.
After a couple hours of hiking they reached the monastery and stopped outside for a picnic lunch. Unfortunately it seemed that the lunch break would offer Patroclus no relief from Achilles’ distractions. As soon as they had sat down in the grass, Achilles pulled some figs out of his bag and lifted one to his mouth. His lips wrapped around the fruit, sucking for a moment before taking a bite.
“Mmm,” Achilles moaned, his tongue darting out to lap up the sweet juice.
“Do you want one?” Achilles held out a fig for Patroclus, eyelashes fluttering innocently as if he wasn’t putting on some sort of obscene show. Patroclus no longer had any doubt that Achilles was doing this on purpose, though he couldn’t fathom why.
Patroclus cleared his throat. “I’m not very hungry, actually. I think I’ll just walk around for a bit.”
“Oh, alright,” Achilles nodded, his lips falling into a small pout.
Patroclus stood up, walking over to an area away from the other men. He tried to clear his cluttered thoughts, looking up and admiring the fine architecture of the monastery. Unfortunately, it seemed the object of his thoughts had decided to follow him.
“Patroclus?” He heard Achilles' voice behind him, and he turned around with a sigh.
“Yes, what is it?” Patroclus asked. He didn’t mean to be so short with Achilles, but he was growing frustrated. With himself, mostly. With his inability to make sense of his own goddamn feelings.
Achilles’ head was tilted to the side, so much golden skin on display. “Are you done walking around yet?” he asked. “I missed you.”
“Achilles. I was away from you for two minutes.”
“And?” Achilles smiled, stepping towards him, reaching for his hand. “I still missed you.”
Patroclus took a deep breath. “Oh, come here,” he said, pulling Achilles around the corner so they were out of view of the other guys, then pushing him so his back was against the wall.
Patroclus leaned in, placing one hand against the wall next to Achilles' head. He finally let his eyes wander, as he’d been longing to do all day, up and down Achilles’ figure.
“I like this outfit,” Patroclus said, voice low and surprisingly steady.
He watched Achilles’ throat bob as he swallowed, his green eyes blown wide. “You do?”
Patroclus nodded. He leaned in further, his mouth hovering close to Achilles’ ear. He wanted to see that sweet blush rise to Achilles’ cheeks again, and he thought he knew how to make it happen.
“I think you already knew that, didn’t you? I think you’ve been teasing me,” he whispered.
He heard Achilles’ soft gasp. He saw his cheeks turn scarlet.
“What– what are you gonna do about it?” Achilles asked breathlessly.
Patroclus weighed his options. He knew what he wanted, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he brought his hands to Achilles’ waist, to the sliver of skin revealed by his tank top.
“Patroclus!” Achilles shrieked and squirmed away giggling, but Patroclus held onto him, tickling his sides. Only when Achilles was breathless and very red did Patroclus pull away, a satisfied smile on his face.
“Got what you deserved,” he said, before turning around and walking back to the men.
***
That evening, Patroclus was more than happy to step into the shower. The afternoon had grown warm and he was eager to wash the sweat and dust from himself. However, as he let the warm water wash over him, he couldn’t get the image of Achilles in that little outfit out of his head.
Unconsciously, Patroclus wrapped his hand around himself and began to stroke slowly. His mind drifted to the memory of sweat on Achilles’ golden skin, to the way those tiny shorts hugged his ass. His thoughts began to spiral. He pictured Achilles pinned beneath him, squirming, blushing, thighs wrapped around his waist. He imagined dipping his hands underneath Achilles’ tank top, feeling the soft skin of his belly, his chest. He imagined pulling that pink headband from his hair, burying his fingers in soft blonde curls.
Patroclus gasped, thrusting desperately into his hand. His eyes squeezed shut, and he clapped his other hand over his mouth to keep from moaning out loud. He spilled messily into his hand, his legs trembling.
After a moment his breathing calmed down and he stared down at his hands, as the water washed away the aftermath of his pleasure. “Fuck,” he muttered, the reality of it all crashing down on him like a heavy weight. Okay. Yeah. There could be no more denying it. Patroclus was definitely not as straight as he’d thought he was.
Chapter 10
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“What do you think they’re doing right now?” Paris asked for the hundredth time.
Helen and Menelaus had left for their date earlier that evening, and Paris was, to put it mildly, not handling it well. He and Achilles were sitting together on the patio, Paris clutching a bottle of wine and questioning Achilles as if he had some secret knowledge about the date.
Achilles sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re just talking.”
Paris huffed, unconvinced. He lifted the bottle to his mouth. “What does he even talk to her about? He’s so boring.”
Achilles didn’t bother to respond. Honestly, whatever Helen and Menelaus were doing was the last thing on his mind. He had his own problems at the moment, namely the fact that Patroclus had been ignoring him all day.
Achilles couldn’t understand it. Yesterday, everything had been going so well. His outfit was on point, he was having a perfect hair day, and Patroclus was finally flirting with him… or so he had thought. Had he only imagined it, the way Patroclus’ eyes had raked over his body, the way he’d pushed him up against the wall, and whispered in his ear? The memory was still so clear in Achilles’ mind; just thinking of it made him feel warm.
However, after Patroclus had come out of the shower last night it was as if a flip had switched. He’d gone straight to bed without even saying goodnight, and the silence had continued into today. All day, he hadn’t uttered a single word to Achilles. He would hardly even look at him.
Even now, Patroclus was sitting on the other side of the patio, chatting merrily with a group of the other men as if Achilles didn’t exist. Achilles stared at him, feeling a pang of hurt and confusion. What had he done wrong?
“This stuff is shit,” Paris’ voice drew him from his thoughts. The other man had his head tilted back, pouring the last drops of wine down his throat. “I’m gonna get s’more,” he said, shoving the empty bottle towards Achilles and then pushing himself to his feet.
However, Paris took only one step before lifting his hand to his forehead, swaying for a moment, then falling right back into his chair.
“Shit, dude,” Achilles said, reaching out to steady him. “How much have you had to drink?”
Now that Achilles looked at him, he noticed how flushed Paris’ face was, his eyes unfocused. He must have drunk the entire bottle of wine and who knows what else.
Paris shook his head. “I… I don’t remember.”
Achilles sighed. “Alright. Here, have some water.”
As he handed Paris his water bottle, the other man suddenly gripped his wrist, a look of sheer panic in his eyes.
“Please, don’t tell Helen I’m drunk,” he said, shaking his head again. “Please.”
Paris had tears in his eyes, his hand tightening around Achilles’ wrist so much that it hurt.
“Gods, okay, just calm down,” Achilles said, trying to shake him off. “I’m not going to tell her.”
Just as he’d managed to pry Paris’ fingers from his wrist, Achilles sensed a shadow fall over them both. He looked up and discovered Odysseus standing there with a smug expression.
“Well, well, well,” Odysseus said slowly. “Don’t you two make quite the spectacle.”
Odysseus’ gaze shifted to Paris, who now had his face in his hands, crying and hiccupping.
“First there’s you,” Odysseus said. “So insecure that you can’t be away from Helen for one evening without making a complete ass of yourself.”
It took a moment for Paris to comprehend Odysseus’ words, but then he lifted his face angrily. “The fuck did you say to me?” he slurred.
Paris attempted to stand up again but Achilles held him down. “Dude, just ignore him. It’s not worth it,” he said, eyeing Odysseus warily.
Odysseus grinned, turning to Achilles. “And then there’s you. I’m not sure why you’re still here, to be honest.”
“I could say the same about you,” Achilles replied coldly.
Odysseus continued to smile condescendingly. “You know, I have second-hand embarrassment from that little performance of yours yesterday. Did you really think flaunting yourself around like a slut would make him want you?”
Achilles’ jaw almost dropped. The words felt like a slap to his face.
Odysseus glanced in Patroclus’ direction, then gave a mocking frown. “Hm, looks like it didn’t work, did it? How sad.”
Really, Achilles should have been angry with Odysseus, but all he could think was that the other man was right. All the effort he had put in yesterday to make himself look cute, to show off for Patroclus… obviously it didn’t work. Actually, it seemed to have had the opposite effect. Maybe he’d even made Patroclus uncomfortable with all his flaunting and flirting. The thought filled him with shame.
Achilles felt his eyes begin to sting and he took a deep breath, willing himself to stay composed.
“Look,” he said after a moment. “Did you just come over here to be a dick, or did you need something?”
Odysseus’ grin widened. “I’m glad you asked. I actually hoped we could talk in private.”
“Fine,” Achilles muttered, not bothering to argue. He knew by now that Odysseus was like a pest who wouldn’t go away until given what he wanted.
He stood up and glanced over at Paris. The other man seemed to have lost track of the conversation and now looked a mixture of angry, sad and confused. “Just stay here,” Achilles told him. “And drink water.”
He walked with Odysseus until they were a few paces away, then folded his arms over his chest.
“If this is about you and Penelope again, I honestly haven’t given it a single thought since the day I saw you together. There’s no need to threaten me again.”
For a second, Odysseus looked surprised, but he quickly schooled his expression. “It isn’t that,” he said, shaking his head. “Though I do expect you to keep your word.”
“What do you want, then?” Achilles asked impatiently.
“I want to ask you a favor,” Odysseus said. “It concerns your friend.” He nodded pointedly at Paris.
Achilles made a gesture for him to go on.
“Some of the other guys and I have been talking,” Odysseus continued. “We don’t think he’s the type of man Helen is looking for. I mean, just take his behavior tonight, for example. He’s clearly unstable. Not to mention possessive, and manipulating.”
“Okay?” Achilles replied. “I don’t see how this is my problem? I’m pretty sure Helen can decide what type of man she wants for herself.”
Odysseus looked at him as if he were stupid. “Listen, I know you don’t care about women, but the rest of us actually have Helen’s best interests at heart. We need to look out for her. We need to protect her from guys like Paris.”
Odysseus took a step closer, lowering his voice. “He trusts you. You can get information out of him. Information that will prove to Helen he’s here for the wrong reasons.”
Achilles could hardly believe the absurdity of what he was hearing. “What, you want me to be your spy now?”
“Exactly,” Odysseus smiled. “And I expect you to comply. After all, I haven’t forgotten about your little secret.”
Ah, there it was, the blackmail Achilles should have known was coming this entire conversation.
“Fine,” he replied through gritted teeth. “I’ll see what I can do.”
***
Achilles couldn’t sleep. He laid in bed, feeling his stomach twist in knots and hearing Odysseus’ words play over and over in his head. And, on top of it all he was being crushed by the weight of Patroclus’ silence in the bed across from him.
This was all getting to be too much. These past few weeks, Achilles felt as if he’d been on an emotional rollercoaster. One moment he thought Patroclus might like him back, and the next he just felt stupid for getting his hopes up. It was pathetic, really, the way he was so wrapped around Patroclus’ finger. Achilles had never, ever let a man play with his heart like this before.
Then again, he’d never felt about anyone else the way he did about Patroclus.
He didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt the dampness on his pillow. He took a shaky breath, but it only made his chest feel tighter. All of the hurt and rejection, all the anxiety that had built up inside him since he’d come on this show was finally starting to break through the cracks. He burrowed deeper into his blankets, trying to be as quiet as possible as his shoulders began to shake with sobs.
He must have been unsuccessful, because soon enough he heard Patroclus shifting in the other bed, and then a whisper.
“Achilles?”
Burning with embarrassment, Achilles didn’t answer.
There was the sound of blankets rustling, and then the lamp flickered on. After a moment, Achilles felt a dip on his bed and a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Achilles, are you crying?”
Achilles sniffled. “No.”
“Achilles.”
Giving in, Achilles turned over and peered up at Patroclus through wet lashes.
He must’ve looked pretty bad because Patroclus’ face immediately filled with concern. He shifted closer, pulling Achilles into his arms.
The comfort of Patroclus’ touch broke a dam within him, and Achilles began to cry harder. He clutched the back of Patroclus’ t-shirt in his fists and hid his face in his neck, his whole body trembling.
“Shh, I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Patroclus whispered next to his ear.
“D– did I do something wrong?” Achilles asked, his voice broken.
Patroclus pulled back to look at him, their faces inches apart. “What?”
Achilles swallowed thickly. “It’s just, y– you haven’t talked to me all day. Did I do something wrong?”
Patroclus frowned. “Is that why you’re upset?” he asked softly. “Because we haven’t talked today?”
Achilles’ cheeks burned as he nodded.
Patroclus was silent for a long moment, and dread pooled in Achilles’ stomach. Then he felt a hand on his chin, gently guiding it up. “Achilles, look at me.”
Achilles looked. Patroclus’ brown eyes were serious.
Unlike Achilles, Patroclus was difficult to read. The expressions of his emotions were subtle – the small crease between his brows, the slight tremor in his hand as he held Achilles' jaw. He could tell Patroclus was nervous, though he didn’t know why.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Patroclus said softly. “I’m sorry I made you feel ignored. I just… I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”
“Oh.” Achilles nodded. He could hardly think with Patroclus touching his face like that. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Patroclus opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head. “Maybe later,” he said. “You should get some rest.”
Patroclus started to get up, but Achilles clung to him. He still felt sad and confused and he didn’t want to lose the comfort of Patroclus’ arms just yet.
“Can you stay?” The words came out of his mouth before he could help it.
Patroclus hesitated, and Achilles wanted to hide beneath his blankets in shame. Of course Patroclus didn’t want to stay in his bed with him. What was he thinking? He’d probably just made Patroclus uncomfortable again and ruined everything and –
“Yeah, of course.”
Patroclus sat down again, shifting this time so he was leaning back against the headboard, then opened his arms for Achilles. “Come here, then.”
Achilles stared, his heart beating fast. Patroclus looked like a vision from his dreams. Slowly, he settled between Patroclus’ legs, head resting on his chest, and he felt Patroclus’ arms wrap around him again.
He let out a soft sigh as Patroclus began to rub soothing circles onto his back and play with the ends of his hair. It was times like these, when Patroclus was so sweet to him, when he made him feel so safe and taken care of, that Achilles thought it was all worth it. And he so desperately didn’t want to lose this. He didn’t want any more of the confusion, the mixed signals, the words left unsaid between Patroclus and him.
After some time, he felt Patroclus’ hands still on his back, and Achilles lifted his head to gaze down at him. Patroclus’ eyes were closed, his dark lashes casting shadows onto his cheeks. His lips were slightly parted, breaths coming slow and even. He was so beautiful, and Achilles wanted him so much it hurt.
Achilles made a decision then. He was going to be brave, for once. He was going to go after what he wanted.
He was going to tell Patroclus how he felt.
***
Achilles woke to an empty space beside him on the bed. The entire room was empty, actually. He blinked his eyes open in disappointment, feeling the ghost of Patroclus’ arms still around him. Had it only been a dream, Patroclus holding him like that, comforting him? Achilles pressed his nose into his pillow, trying to catch a trace of Patroclus’ scent.
Eventually, he got out of bed and went into the kitchen. However, the sight he found there made him freeze in the doorway, feeling his blood run cold.
Patroclus and Odysseus were sitting together at the breakfast table, talking as if they were the best of friends. Odysseus noticed him in the doorway first and offered the fakest smile Achilles had ever seen, waving him over to join them. Cautiously, Achilles approached the table and sat down, as far from Odysseus as possible.
“Lovely morning, isn’t it?” Odysseus greeted.
Achilles didn’t answer. He sat rigidly, staring at the platter of toast and tomatoes spread before them.
“Hey.” He felt a hand on his thigh beneath the table, and he looked up at Patroclus’ concerned face. “Are you alright? You look a bit ill.”
Achilles nodded quickly, trying to ignore Odysseus’ eyes on them. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
Patroclus studied him for a moment, then nodded. Achilles prepared a plate of food for himself, and the three of them ate in tense silence until some of the other guys came in and joined them. It didn’t seem as if Odysseus had revealed anything to Patroclus, but Achilles couldn’t be too sure, and the interaction left him uneasy.
After breakfast, Achilles remembered his plan to confess his feelings. Thinking about it made him so nervous he thought he’d be sick, but he was determined to go through with it nonetheless. And perhaps it was foolish, but despite his nerves he had a good feeling about telling Patroclus. Something in him just knew that the connection he felt couldn’t only be one-sided.
He decided he would tell him after the rose ceremony. It was their last evening in Spain, and he knew a little spot on the beach that would be the perfect romantic setting.
He spent the day planning out every detail of how it would go. He would give Patroclus flowers, he decided. There was a field of them not far from the resort, and he remembered Patroclus mentioning that the yellow ones were his favorite. He would find Patroclus after the rose ceremony and lead him down the little path to the beach. The stars would be out, and he would hold Patroclus’ hand as they walked along the shore. Everything was going to be perfect. It had to be.
As he stood in front of the mirror getting ready for the cocktail party, Achilles practiced what he was going to say.
“Patroclus, I have feelings for you,” he said to his reflection.
“Patroclus, I like you. In a gay way.”
“Patroclus, you look so handsome tonight. Will you be my boyfriend?”
Achilles covered his face with his hands and groaned. Gods, he sounded like an idiot.
In the midst of his crisis, Paris poked his head into the bathroom.
“Which one?” Paris asked, holding two ties up to his chest, one navy blue and the other burgundy.
“Blue.”
Achilles turned back to the mirror, beginning to fix his hair, but he sensed that Paris wasn’t leaving. He glanced over again to see the other man fidgeting in the doorway.
Achilles sighed. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry about last night,” Paris said quickly.
“Hm?”
“I’m sorry you had to deal with me like that.” Paris looked away, staring at the bathroom wall. “I was sad.”
Achilles leaned back against the counter, tilting his head. It was strange, seeing Paris without his usual arrogance. “I know you were,” Achilles said. “It’s alright.”
Paris was silent for a moment, continuing to stare at the wall. Then he cleared his throat and looked at Achilles. “Can I tell you something?”
Achilles nodded.
“I’ve never had a girlfriend before.”
Before Achilles could respond, Paris held up a hand. “Now, I know what you’re going to say – but Paris, you’re the sexiest man alive, how is it possible?”
Achilles rolled his eyes. To be honest he didn’t find it that surprising. Yeah, Paris was a good looking guy, but he wasn’t exactly what Achilles would call boyfriend material. He didn’t say that out loud, though.
“I’ve had plenty of hookups, don’t get me wrong,” Paris continued. “I’ve just never liked anyone enough to make it serious. Not until Helen. I mean, at first I thought it was just going to be a hookup with her too, but then afterwards I just could not stop thinking about her. It was like an obsession.”
Paris paused, a troubled expression coming over his face. “But now… I don’t know. I think I’m finding it harder than I thought I would. Being on this show. Seeing her with other guys. I’ve been trying to control it, but I just get so fucking jealous sometimes.”
“I get it,” Achilles nodded. “If it makes you feel any better, I think Helen really likes you too.”
Paris smiled a little. “Yeah?”
“Well, it sure seemed like it when I walked in on her in your bed,” Achilles smirked.
Paris shoved his chest, laughing.
Then he pulled Achilles into a bro hug. “You’re my bestie,” Paris said, patting his back. “I’m gonna go change. I’ll see you in a few.”
***
Halfway through the cocktail party, Achilles was minding his own business, sipping champagne and thinking about Patroclus, when Odysseus appeared.
“Well?” Odysseus said, leaning way too close into Achilles’ space. “What have you found out?”
“About what?” Achilles frowned, backing away from him.
“Don’t play dumb,” Odysseus spat. “What have you found out about the enemy?”
Achilles raised an eyebrow. “The enemy? You do know we’re on a reality dating show, not fighting in a war, right?”
Odysseus glared at him. “I don’t have all night. I expect information, or else I’ll share some information of my own with Patroclus.”
“Gods help me,” Achilles muttered. “Fine. He told me he’s never been in a relationship.”
Odysseus hummed. “Interesting. What else?”
“He might’ve said something about being… obsessed. With Helen. And about being jealous of the other guys.”
Achilles felt a little guilty about betraying Paris like this, but he didn’t really have a choice, did he? He couldn’t risk having Odysseus meddling in his situation with Patroclus, not when things were already so delicate between them right now. Besides, what was the worst Odysseus could do to Paris? Spread a few rumors?
“That’ll do for now,” Odysseus replied, a look of evil satisfaction in his eye as he walked away.
Soon enough, the men were being lined up for the rose ceremony. Achilles was nearly bouncing up and down as he stood waiting for Helen to call his name, anxious for the ceremony to end and his chance to talk with Patroclus. She eventually did call his name, and he gave her a quick hug after she’d pinned the rose to his shirt. In the end, Agapenor, Meriones, Eurypylus, and Sthenelus were sent home, leaving only fifteen men remaining.
Now was the moment Achilles had been waiting for. He fetched the small bouquet of yellow flowers that he’d gathered earlier. He brushed his hands over his suit, smoothing out any wrinkles, and took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. Then, he scanned the group of men for Patroclus.
He didn’t see Patroclus among the other men, and he frowned, wondering where he could have gone. But then he spotted him near the bar, talking with Helen. Patroclus was leaning against the edge of the counter, looking so lovely as he smiled at something Helen said. Achilles smiled too, clutching the flowers tightly in his hand and walking towards them. He opened his mouth, about to call Patroclus’ name, but then something horrible happened.
Patroclus stepped towards Helen, took her face in his hand, and kissed her.
Notes:
I'm so sorry
Chapter 11
Notes:
Hi, I know you're all mad about the last chapter, please accept this quick update as an apology :")
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“BRO.” Diomedes slung his arm around Patroclus’ shoulders, dragging him into the group of men. “You finally did it. You finally fucking did it.”
Odysseus slapped Patroclus on the back. “Glad to see you took my advice,” he said with a wink.
“How was it?” Diomedes grinned. “I told you she was good, didn’t I?”
“She’s amazing,” Antilochus said dreamily. “She tastes like vanilla and berries, don’t you think so, Pat?”
“You lucky bastards,” said Ajax, pouting. “How come you’ve all kissed her and I still haven’t?”
“You just gotta go for it like Pat, man,” Diomedes laughed, then turned back to Patroclus. “C’mon man, for real, how was it?”
All eyes turned to look at Patroclus. He cleared his throat. “Well…”
“Guys, leave him alone,” Menelaus chimed in unexpectedly. He sat down at Patroclus’ side, giving him a reassuring smile. “Not everyone likes to kiss and tell.”
The conversation shifted, and Patroclus gave Menelaus a small, grateful smile in return.
Patroclus was… overwhelmed. He’d thought kissing Helen would give him some clarity. He’d thought it would make him feel better about the entire situation he was in, but it had only made him feel worse.
The truth was, when Patroclus had finished jerking off to thoughts of Achilles in the shower the other day, he’d panicked.
He had never considered that he might like men as well as women. Wasn’t that something he should have figured out in college? He’d only ever dated women. He’d kissed women. He’d had sex with women, and enjoyed it. Sure, he hadn’t had all that many of those experiences, but there’d been enough for him to feel pretty confident about his preferences.
And then Achilles had walked into his life and complicated everything. Achilles was beautiful, and Patroclus was undeniably attracted to him, but it wasn’t only that. He cared about Achilles so, so deeply, and that was what scared him. He didn’t want to lose Achilles’ friendship. He didn’t want to hurt Achilles any more than he already had as a result of his confused feelings. And, at the end of the day he and Achilles were both here on this show to compete for a woman. There didn’t seem to be any situation in which Patroclus giving into his desires would end well for either of them.
He’d tried to put some space between himself and Achilles, which turned out to be a terrible decision when Achilles thought he was ignoring him. As if every moment Patroclus spent outside of Achilles’ presence didn’t feel like living in a world without sunlight.
Then, he’d turned his attention to Helen. Odysseus had planted the idea in his mind that morning when he’d told Patroclus that most of the other guys had already kissed her, and that he should make his move soon if he wanted to stay in the competition. The season was halfway over, after all. Patroclus had panicked once again, realizing that his sexuality crisis had distracted him from making any progress with Helen, and there was now a real chance he could be sent home.
So, he’d pulled her away after the rose ceremony, and he’d kissed her.
It wasn’t a bad kiss. The things the guys said about Helen were all true – she was gorgeous, and her lips certainly tasted nice, but… that was it. She didn’t make Patroclus’ heart race; she didn’t consume his thoughts day and night. Patroclus knew for certain when he kissed her, she wasn’t the one he really wanted. She wasn’t Achilles.
Now that he thought about it, where was Achilles? Patroclus hadn’t seen him since the rose ceremony ended. He scanned the group of men on the patio, searching for a flash of golden curls, but found nothing. Excusing himself, he stood up and headed inside to check if Achilles was already back in their room.
He opened the bedroom door and found that the lights were turned off.
“Achilles?” he called into the darkness. It wasn’t like him to go to sleep so early.
When there was no answer, Patroclus switched on the lights and discovered a large, misshapen lump of blankets on Achilles’ bed.
Cautiously, he approached the bed, repeating Achilles’ name. There was still no verbal response, though this time he heard a soft sniffling come from beneath the blankets. Upon closer inspection, he realized that these were not only Achilles’ own blankets, but all of the blankets had been removed from Patroclus’ bed as well.
Deeply concerned, Patroclus sat down on the edge of Achilles’ bed as he’d done last night. “Achilles, I know you’re under there,” he said. “Are you okay?”
There was more sniffling, and then a small, broken voice. “Leave me alone.”
Patroclus’ brows knitted together. “Achilles, please, you’re worrying me. What happened? Are you sick? Do you need something?”
The mass of blankets began to move, and after a moment Achilles’ face appeared, everything else still hidden.
Patroclus was speechless, so startling was the sight before him. Achilles’ face was all scrunched up and red, his green eyes fiery. It was like seeing a very angry kitten.
“I said, leave me alone, Patroclus. I’m fine.”
Patroclus’ mouth hung open. He racked his brain for what could have caused this mood.
“You’re clearly not fine,” he said eventually. “Did I do something?” That was usually the reason for Achilles’ outbursts, after all.
But Achilles didn’t answer him. Rather, he stared at him with such contempt that Patroclus began to squirm.
“Okay then,” Patroclus said slowly. “I’m sorry, for whatever I did. I’ll let you be.”
He’d hardly finished his sentence before Achilles disappeared again beneath the blankets.
“Goodnight,” Patroclus said quietly.
He changed and brushed his teeth, then settled underneath the one meager sheet Achilles had left him, wondering how things had come to this.
***
The next morning, the men left the resort and got on a flight to Scotland for the next phase of the show. In the midst of all the packing and traveling that ensued, Patroclus had no time to address the issue that had arisen between Achilles and himself. Not that this would have been an easy task even if he did have the time, as Achilles was avoiding him like the plague.
Patroclus began to grow frustrated, even stooping so low as to ask Paris what was wrong with Achilles. But Paris only gave him a blank look and said “You fucked up, man. I thought doctors were supposed to be smart.”
Achilles declined Patroclus’ offer to sit together on the plane, choosing to sit with Paris instead, which sent a flare of unnecessary jealousy through Patroclus. He was especially irritated when he noticed the two of them whispering with their heads close together and stealing glances in his direction, clearly talking about him.
Then, when they arrived at their new accommodation, Achilles placed his suitcases in their room before swiftly disappearing to an unknown location.
They were staying in an old stone hotel that looked as if it were once a castle. It was located on a cliff that jutted out above the sea and was surrounded by lush greenery. Inside, the building was dimly lit and composed of many narrow corridors and winding staircases – in other words, many places for Achilles to hide from Patroclus.
“This place is probably haunted or some shit,” Ajax had muttered when they’d walked in, and Patroclus wouldn’t have been all that surprised if he were right.
In the early afternoon, a date card arrived, and Diomedes gathered the men together to open it. They sat in a cozy, circular living room with a stone hearth and an open window letting in the warm summer breeze. Once he’d torn open the envelope and glanced at the date card, Diomedes’ eyes shot straight to Patroclus, giving him a mischievous smirk.
“Patroclus,” he read aloud. “Listen to your heart. Love, Helen.”
Well, fuck.
Patroclus tried to appear pleased as the men cheered his name and patted him on the back, but inside he was cursing himself. A one-on-one date with Helen was the last thing he needed right now.
For a moment, he glanced up and his eyes landed on Achilles from across the room. The other man looked as if he might burst into tears. But before Patroclus could react, Achilles muttered something to Paris under his breath and stormed out of the room.
Patroclus felt miserable as he got ready for the date. He put on a decent outfit and tried to make his hair look presentable, but he didn’t really have it in him to bother with how he looked. He had the feeling that Helen would be expecting something from him now, after their kiss – something that he wasn’t prepared to give. He knew now that he didn’t have feelings for her, but at the same time he didn’t want her to send him home just yet, not with all the unresolved tension between Achilles and him. If he went home, he wasn’t sure whether he’d ever see Achilles again... which was a thought that made him feel like his heart was being torn from his chest. He knew he was being selfish, and wasting Helen’s time, but he didn’t know what else to do. He would have to play this very carefully.
He was driven to a lively neighborhood lined with flower beds and old brick buildings where he was to meet Helen. He immediately felt guilt rising up in him when she walked towards him with a huge smile, and he saw how genuinely happy she seemed to see him.
“Hi there,” Helen greeted him, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
“Hey.” Patroclus took a deep breath, doing his best to match her cheerful energy. After all, Helen didn’t deserve to have a bad day just because he was feeling like a confused mess.
“You look lovely,” he told her, and he meant it. She was wearing a simple lilac dress and some sparkly stuff around her eyes, and her long, straight hair flowed loosely down her back.
She thanked him, her smile brightening as she took his hand and led him inside one of the brick buildings in front of them.
It turned out they were at a distillery. It was one of the oldest in Scotland, apparently. The two of them were given a tour, told about the history of the place, and shown how the whiskies are made. Helen held his hand the entire time, though after a while it became a bit sweaty and uncomfortable. He didn’t let go though, because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Nonetheless, Patroclus actually found the experience quite interesting, and his mood began to lift a little as the evening went on.
After the tour, they were shown into a well-furnished room with soft lighting where they were presented with a few different whiskies to taste.
Helen lowered her glass from her perfectly glossed lips, smiling at Patroclus from across the table. “I’m really glad to spend some more time with you today,” she said.
“Yeah,” Patroclus cleared his throat. “Yeah, me too.”
Helen twirled a strand of her hair between her fingers, thinking. “You know, there’s been so much drama between some of the other guys, but you’ve always been such a calm, comforting presence here. I’ve really appreciated that, Patroclus.”
“Oh, yeah…” Patroclus trailed off awkwardly, taking a nervous sip from his glass. “I’m sorry there’s been so much drama. It must be stressful for you.”
“Gods, it is,” Helen said. “I swear, sometimes it feels like I’m dealing with toddlers rather than grown men.”
Patroclus laughed. They continued talking, first about the other guys, and then about themselves and their lives outside the show. Helen was sweet, and confident, and Patroclus could imagine that he might have really liked her if his heart wasn’t already taken by Achilles.
After a while, she reached across the table and joined their hands again.
“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked, biting her lip.
“Uh, sure.”
“I was a little nervous about this date,” Helen admitted. “To be honest, in the past I’ve always sensed that you were a little… distracted, during our conversations. I thought maybe… I don’t know, maybe there was someone else on your mind?”
She looked at him expectantly.
Patroclus swallowed. “I– of course not. There’s no one else.” He squeezed her hand. “Trust me, Helen, you’re the only woman on my mind.”
The smile she gave him made him feel like the biggest asshole in the world.
Helen reached for the rose that sat in the little gold dish at the center of the table. “Patroclus,” she began, “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know more about you tonight. I hope, we can continue building this relationship through the rest of the season. Will you accept this rose?”
He nodded. “I will.” And he leaned forward so she could pin the flower to his shirt.
By the time they went outside again it had begun to rain, and Helen huddled next to Patroclus under an umbrella as they walked a block or so to the next location.
They were ending the evening at a small concert venue, where a folk band Patroclus had never heard of was playing. The room was filled with colorful lights and a small crowd of people swaying on the dance floor. The producers more or less commanded that Helen and Patroclus slow dance together, so Patroclus took her by the waist and she settled her arms around his shoulders.
It was awkward. It felt as if they were reenacting a bad high school prom scene as they swayed there for the camera, but Helen was smiling up at him nonetheless. She began to look intently at his face, glancing between his eyes and lips, and he could tell that she wanted him to kiss her again. As the song came to an end, she tilted her head upwards and her eyes fluttered shut, but at the last second Patroclus turned his face to the side and kissed her cheek instead.
Helen looked surprised, and then a little hurt. Swallowing his guilt, Patroclus pulled her into a hug and whispered to her over the music. “I had a really nice time tonight.”
***
Patroclus arrived back at the hotel feeling exhausted and guilty and still a little tipsy from the whiskey. The rain had only grown stronger, now pounding against the windows, and the sound of thunder echoed ominously against the stone walls.
When he entered his bedroom, he was met with the sight of Achilles just stepping out of the shower, shirtless, wearing only his fancy satin pyjama bottoms. The entire room was steamy and smelled of his soap. Patroclus thought this must be some sort of punishment.
“Hi,” Patroclus greeted him a bit breathlessly.
Achilles looked surprised to see him there, as if this wasn’t Patroclus’ room as well.
“Hi,” he replied curtly, then quickly turned away and began to fuss with something in his wardrobe.
Patroclus sighed audibly. It had been a long day, and he simply wasn’t in the mood for more of Achilles’ sour attitude.
“My date went well, thanks for asking,” he said, throwing his jacket onto the bed.
Achilles spun back around instantly, his eyes simmering with rage and hurt. “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in hearing about your fucking date, Patroclus.”
Patroclus stared at him, gaping. Achilles had never spoken to him so vehemently before. What had happened to the sweet, shy boy who used to blush at Patroclus’ every word?
“Why are you being like this?” Patroclus demanded, placing his hands on his hips.
“Like what?” Achilles spat, mirroring his stance.
“Like… like that!” He gestured vaguely at Achilles’ whole demeanor. “Like something crawled up your ass!”
Achilles shook his head, as if he were the one in disbelief. “As if you don’t know.”
Patroclus threw up his hands in exasperation. “For the gods’ sake, I don’t! Please fucking enlighten me!”
Achilles' eyes became glassy, and his bottom lip trembled when he spoke. “Stop yelling at me.”
Fuck. Patroclus had made him cry. Again.
Patroclus ran his hand over his face, feeling like an asshole for the second time that night. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Achilles. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just– I’m trying to fix this, but I can’t do that if you won’t tell me why you’re upset with me.”
Achilles turned away from him, wiping the tears from his cheek. Instinctively, Patroclus reached out to comfort him, but Achilles flinched away and wrapped his arms around himself. It felt like a sharp stab to Patroclus’ heart.
He stepped back again, swallowing thickly. “I’m so sorry, Achilles. Really. Just… Please talk to me. I don’t want to fight with you.”
Achilles’ eyes met his, and he looked so defeated, so hurt, that it took all of Patroclus’ strength not to grab him and pull him into his arms. He watched Achilles take a deep breath, balling his hands into fists at his sides.
“Last night, I wanted– I wanted to tell you–” He broke off, voice cracking.
“You wanted to tell me what?” Patroclus asked gently.
Outside, there was a loud crash of thunder, drowning out whatever Achilles had been about to say.
Suddenly, the lights in the room began to flicker before going out completely, and they were plunged into darkness. Patroclus could hardly make out the shape of Achilles an arms’ length in front of him.
“Achilles?” he said, reaching forward blindly.
“Pat–” There was a crash near the window that definitely wasn’t thunder, and Achilles let out a full-on horror-movie-girl scream.
Patroclus felt Achilles’ arms wrap so tightly around his torso that he thought the life might be squeezed out of him.
Well – Patroclus thought, feeling Achilles’ hot, rapid breath against his neck and inhaling the scent of his shampoo – if he was about to die, there were worse ways to go.
Notes:
halloween came early >:)
Chapter 12
Notes:
Enjoyyyy <3
Chapter Text
Achilles was in love.
Not with Patroclus. He was still pissed at Patroclus. No, Achilles was in love with the little fluff ball that just jumped through their window.
He was currently cradling the little cat in his arms, wrapped up in his fluffiest towel since the poor thing was still damp from being out in the rain.
“Oh, aren’t you just the cutest thing?” Achilles cooed, scratching the cat behind its ear. “What should we name you, hm?”
“It might have fleas, Achilles. Have you thought of that?” Patroclus rudely interrupted.
Achilles responded with a stare of ice. “How dare you insult my sweet, innocent baby.”
“Innocent?” Patroclus scoffed. “Have you already forgotten what it did to me?”
Achilles hadn’t forgotten. In fact, it was a memory he intended to cherish for some time.
*Flashback to twenty minutes earlier*
Achilles clung to Patroclus, seeing his life flash before his eyes. His anger and almost-confession were momentarily forgotten as he thought only of their impending demise.
“I’ll go check what it was,” Patroclus said calmly. “Probably just a tree branch that got blown into the window.”
“What? No!” Achilles responded in a panicked whisper. He’d seen enough horror films to know that going to the window was the worst decision Patroclus could make.
He felt Patroclus begin to move, and clutched his shirt even more tightly in an attempt to keep him still. “Patroclus, please, don’t go over there!”
Suddenly, a small light flickered on and he could make out Patroclus’ (very pretty) face in front of him. It took him a moment to realize that Patroclus had turned on his phone flashlight.
“Achilles, let go of me,” Patroclus said sternly. “This is ridiculous.”
Against his better judgment, Achilles loosened his grip enough for Patroclus to slip away. Heart pounding, his eyes followed the weak light of Patroclus’ flashlight as he walked towards the window. All he could think was that Patroclus was about to be murdered and he hadn’t even gotten a chance to tell him how he felt.
“Did you leave the window open?” Patroclus asked from across the room. He sounded remarkably calm for someone who was about to meet his end, which somehow only increased Achilles’ anxiety.
“Um, maybe.”
The answer was actually a definite yes. Achilles had left it open while he showered to let some of the steam out of the room, not considering the consequences of an open window during a thunderstorm.
Patroclus let out a disappointed sigh. “I don’t know how – oh shit, there’s a cat.”
There was a pause of confusion, then Achilles replied suspiciously. “A cat?”
“Achilles, come over here.”
As Achilles approached the window, Patroclus held out his phone. “Here, I need you to hold the light.”
Achilles did as he was told, pointing the flashlight at the window in front of Patroclus. There was, indeed, a small orange cat clinging to the curtains. There was also a broken vase on the floor just beneath it. The cat must have jumped inside from the nearby tree and knocked over the vase, explaining the crash they’d heard.
“I think its claws are caught in the curtains,” Patroclus was saying. “I’m going to try and help it.”
As Patroclus reached for the cat, it hissed at him, arching its back threateningly. Achilles could already see that this wouldn’t end well.
“Shh, it’s okay, I’m going to help you,” Patroclus told the cat as he gently detached its claws from the lacy curtains.
However, as soon as the cat was free it pounced on Patroclus, landing on top of his head. It hissed vengefully and bit at Patroclus’ hair.
Patroclus let out a string of curses, trying in vain to pull the cat off himself. He eventually stumbled backwards onto Achilles’ bed, at which point the cat jumped off him onto the mattress.
Patroclus declared the animal to be the spawn of Hades.
Meanwhile, Achilles was doubled over, laughing so hard he couldn’t hold the light straight and making no effort to intervene.
*End of flashback*
“I’m naming him Pyrrhus,” Achilles decided. “For his orange fur.”
“You mean for the fiery pits of his soul?” Patroclus muttered.
He had retreated to the other side of the room and was dramatically applying a bandage to the small scratch Pyrrhus had given him, just above his eyebrow. After the incident, they had managed to find some lanterns from the hotel lobby, so the room was now cast in a soft glow that reflected beautifully on Patroclus’ copper skin.
Pyrrhus meowed in protest at Patroclus’ words, and Achilles cuddled him closer. “Patroclus, please. You’re upsetting him.”
Much to Patroclus’ irritation, the cat had taken an immediate liking to Achilles. As soon as he’d sat down on the bed Pyrrhus had crawled into his lap, purring and licking his hand affectionately. He hadn’t wanted to be let out of Achilles’ arms ever since.
“Oh, I’m upsetting him ?” Patroclus shook his head. “He’s the one who attacked and maimed me after I saved his life. He should be grateful I didn’t leave him out in the rain.”
Achilles gasped, covering Pyrrhus’ little ears with his hands. “Don’t listen to him, baby. He’s a mean, grumpy old man.”
***
Achilles was reluctant to leave Pyrrhus alone with Patroclus while he went on the group date, but he had no choice. He had coerced one of the producers into going out and buying a selection of cat supplies for Pyrrhus – food, treats, toys, etc. In theory, Pyrrhus had everything he could possibly need for the day, but Achilles couldn’t help but worry about being away from his little one. Patroclus compared him to an overprotective mother.
“We’ll be fine,” Patroclus said, practically pushing Achilles out the door. “If anything, you should be concerned for my safety, not his.”
Achilles’ eyes lingered on Pyrrhus, curled up asleep on his pillow. The producer had brought back a cat bed for him, but he seemed to prefer Achilles’ bed instead.
“You promise to give him lots of treats and cuddles?” Achilles asked anxiously.
Patroclus raised an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume he’ll let me touch him. As for the treats, I think we may need to put him on a diet.”
“ Patroclus –”
“Yes, alright, fine. I’ll cuddle him even if he scratches my face off. I’ll give him as many treats as his heart desires. Happy? Now, go. The producers are already pissed about all this cat stuff. They won’t like it if you’re late.”
Achilles nodded, taking one last look at Pyrrhus and swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat. “Goodbye, baby.” He blew Pyrrhus a kiss before Patroclus closed the door in his face.
It felt strange going on a group date without Patroclus, and if he was honest Achilles wished he didn’t have to go at all. It wasn’t only that he didn’t want to leave Pyrrhus; he just didn’t feel like he had it in him to play pretend for the cameras today. And he certainly wasn’t looking forward to seeing Helen, the woman who had stolen his man and ruined his life.
Every time Achilles’ mind conjured up the image of Helen and Patroclus kissing, his heart shattered all over again.
The worst part was that Patroclus didn’t even seem to care about his feelings. He had practically thrown it in Achilles’ face last night, telling him how amazing his date was and acting like he didn’t understand why Achilles was upset. Achilles knew he hadn’t just imagined Patroclus flirting with him these past weeks. All the teasing smiles and lingering touches, the times Patroclus’ eyes had wandered to his lips… But apparently it all meant nothing to Patroclus.
When Helen showed up to the group date, Achilles couldn’t help the rage that rose up in him at the sight of her. He hated her long, shiny hair and her effortlessly perfect makeup. He hated knowing that she had touched Patroclus, tasted him. He even hated the color of her lipstick – a subtle peach tint. Achilles had that exact shade at home, and he knew it looked better on him. It simply wasn’t fair. Achilles was just as pretty – why did Patroclus have to like her and not him?
They were visiting a castle for the date, and they first had to walk to the top of the summit where it was built. Luckily, the storm had died down late last night, and the weather was now clear and sunny. The path led them through a field of lush green grass, spotted here and there with clusters of trees. Achilles walked beside Antilochus and Nestor, half-listening as Nestor recounted a piece of regional history.
He could see Paris a few paces ahead of them, tugging at Helen’s hand like a child, trying to get her attention. Paris wasn’t typically good company on group dates, as he was always draping himself all over Helen, but lately he had been even more unpleasant than usual.
Achilles had gone to Paris seeking comfort after seeing Patroclus and Helen kiss, and at first he had been supportive. However, after a few hours of listening to Achilles cry Paris told him he was being annoying, then had the audacity to suggest that he was also upset, seeing as Patroclus had kissed “his girl.”
Needless to say, Achilles wasn’t speaking to him at the moment.
When they reached the castle, Aphrodite insisted that each of the men take a cute couple-y photo with Helen. Achilles was less than enthused, and he didn’t even bother trying to hide his disdain at being forced to pose with his arm around Helen’s waist. He wrenched away from her as soon as they were finished, ignoring her when she asked if something was wrong.
Did Achilles know he was being petty? Yes. Did he care? No.
Logically, he knew Helen wasn’t to blame here – he didn’t think anyone in their right mind would have refused a kiss from Patroclus when offered one – yet he couldn’t help but feel that she had personally wronged him, and he was determined to remain bitter about it.
Following the photo session, they got a tour of the castle’s interior. The tour guide was a long-winded old man who spent about five hours recounting every single detail of each room they went in. Achilles almost fell asleep in one of the chairs, then got yelled at for sitting on a historic artifact.
Afterwards, they stopped into a café for some much needed caffeine. Achilles ordered his signature iced vanilla coconut milk latte and sat at an outdoor table with Antilochus and Menelaus. Nestor had wandered off to continue talking about Scottish history with the tour guide.
Achilles was tired, and he hated to admit it but he missed Patroclus (and Pyrrhus). It had only been a few hours but he was already longing to be back in their room, alone, where Patroclus gave him all his attention. However, it was impossible for him to be too sulky around Menelaus and Antilochus. Menelaus had to be the friendliest person Achilles had ever met; he was a bit quiet when the men were gathered as a group, but with just the three of them there he drew Achilles into the conversation, asking him questions about Phthia and seeming genuinely interested in what he had to say.
After a while, Helen came over to join them. She leaned down to give each of them a hug before sitting in the empty chair next to Antilochus.
“How are you boys doing?” Helen smiled.
Antilochus and Menelaus were both clearly enraptured by her, and began talking animatedly.
Before long, Paris strolled up to the table.
“Hi, babe,” he said, standing behind Helen’s chair and wrapping his arms around her.
“Hi,” Helen replied, though she suddenly looked a bit weary.
Paris glanced around the table, and when his eyes landed on Menelaus his expression changed to a sneer. “Oh. You’re here.”
Menelaus simply gave him a polite nod. “Nice to see you too, Paris. How’s it going?”
Rather than responding, Paris placed himself on Helen’s lap and began to kiss her neck rather aggressively.
Helen gasped, pulling away from him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What do you mean?” Paris frowned. “I’m kissing you.” He leaned in again, this time kissing her on the mouth.
“Mmph - Paris!” Helen pushed him away, her cheeks flushed. “Seriously, stop. I’m not in the mood.”
Paris’ brows furrowed. He stood up again and wiped his mouth. “What’s your problem?”
“The problem is, you’re acting all weird and possessive when we’re just trying to have a conversation here,” Helen said.
“Oh, not this again,” Paris rolled his eyes. “You’re so fucking dramatic –”
“Just let it go, man,” Menelaus interrupted, his voice calm but firm. “If she doesn’t want to kiss you, then she doesn’t. Show some respect.”
Predictably, this caused Paris to blow up. “Don’t you fucking talk to me! This has nothing to do with you!”
“Paris.” Helen caught his arm, giving him a warning look. She held up her empty glass. “Why don’t you go get me another iced coffee.”
***
Upon returning from the date, Achilles found Patroclus lying in bed on his back with Pyrrhus curled up on his chest. Achilles almost died from the cuteness. Then, he realized they were lying on his bed, and he almost died again.
He shrugged off his jacket, then walked over and sat down next to them. Pyrrhus sensed his presence right away. He stirred, blinking open his little eyes and beginning to purr excitedly.
“Hi, my sweet boy, did you miss me?” Achilles cooed, kissing Pyrrhus’ head as the cat climbed into his lap.
“Mhm. I missed you.”
Achilles glanced up, startled.
Patroclus was sitting up on his elbows, lips curled into a teasing smile. “What, am I not your sweet boy?”
Achilles felt his face heat up. “That’s not – Um –”
Patroclus continued to smirk. Then, he sat up and wrapped his arms around Achilles’ shoulders, tucking his face in his neck and inhaling deeply, as if he were breathing in Achilles’ scent.
“I really did miss you,” Patroclus mumbled. “You aren’t still mad at me, are you?”
“Well, I – I’m –” Achilles tried hopelessly to form words, but there was not one rational thought left in his brain.
Patroclus leaned back to look at him. His eyes were still soft with sleep – lovely, deep brown eyes that drew Achilles in without fail.
“Come on, I looked after that precious cat of yours all day and trust me, it wasn’t easy. He begged me for treats all morning, he refused to let me brush him even though I know for a fact he’s full of knots, and he bit me for absolutely no reason –”
“Patroclus, I like you.”
The words fell from his mouth before he could stop them.
Patroclus’ eyes grew wide. “What?”
Achilles considered his options. Run out of the room? Pretend Patroclus misheard him? Change his name and move to America?
No, it was too late. He had no choice but to go through with it.
“I – I’ve kind of had a crush on you since, like, the first day we met.”
Achilles held his breath, waiting.
It felt as if hours passed, and Patroclus didn’t say a word. Gods, why wouldn’t he say something?
Unable to bear the silence any longer, Achilles kept talking.
“So, yeah. Now you know. I – I sort of thought you might like me too. But you kissed Helen, so, um, yeah. Obviously you don’t.”
He paused again, swallowing thickly. He felt more humiliated with every word he said, but he couldn’t seem to stop them from coming out.
“I know you probably feel awkward around me now, and maybe you don’t want to be friends anymore, or, like, even talk to me – I just – Just wanted you to know –”
His voice broke, his lip trembling so much he couldn’t go on.
“Achilles.” Patroclus finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “Achilles, please don’t cry.”
Achilles took in a sharp breath, his vision blurring with tears. “Sorry –”
“Achilles, sweetheart,” Patroclus moved a bit closer, took Achilles’ hand in his. “It’s not that I don’t like you…”
Achilles looked up, blinking until Patroclus’ face came into focus. “Do you?”
Patroclus frowned, as if searching for his words carefully. “I… of course I do.”
“Oh.” Achilles said breathlessly, feeling his heart leap in his chest.
In his fantasies, this would be the part where Patroclus pulled him into a passionate kiss while uplifting music played in the background, and a rainbow appeared in the sky. But it didn't seem like any of that would be happening now. Instead, Patroclus was staring at him with a conflicted expression.
“But Achilles,” he continued slowly. “It’s just – I don’t know how this would even work. I mean, we’re on The Bachelorette.”
“Oh,” Achilles said again, shaking his head. “You’re right. It would never work. Just forget it –”
“Hey, no, wait.” Patroclus cupped his cheek with his hand. Achilles leaned shamelessly into the touch.
“How about…” Patroclus said, brushing his thumb over Achilles’ cheek. “How about we just try this, and… and see where it goes, yeah?”
Achilles let his eyes flutter shut, sighing at the feeling of Patroclus' hand on his face. “Okay.”
He heard the smile in Patroclus' voice as he echoed him. “Okay.”
When Achilles opened his eyes again, he found Patroclus gazing at him so tenderly he thought his heart would burst. He turned his head, pressing a kiss to the palm of Patroclus’ hand.
Patroclus’ smile faltered slightly, a strange expression coming over his face. Embarrassment? Uncertainty?
“Achilles…” he said quietly. “I’ve never done this before. With a guy, I mean.”
“Oh.” Achilles lowered his gaze, blushing. “Sorry. I didn’t – I shouldn’t have –”
“Hush.” Patroclus covered his mouth with his hand, silencing him. “I just mean… be patient with me, okay?”
Achilles grinned against his hand. “M’kay.”
There was a knock at the door.
They looked at each other, Patroclus’ hand dropping to his side. The knocking came again, more urgent this time, and Achilles sighed, standing up and striding towards the door. He swung it open, ready to tell off whoever it was for interrupting his moment.
Paris was leaning against the doorframe, breathing heavily, the scent of whiskey strong on his breath.
“You backstabbing son of a bitch,” he said, before punching Achilles in the face.
Chapter 13
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Patroclus moved faster than he thought possible, throwing himself in front of Achilles before Paris could take another swing at him. Pyrrhus sprang into action as well, hissing violently and biting Paris’ ankle.
Paris looked down at the cat in horror. “Fuck!” he shouted, attempting to shake him off. “Disgusting fucking animal!”
“Pyrrhus!” Achilles cried in alarm.
Patroclus heaved a sigh. This was certainly not the turn he’d expected this evening to take.
Bending down, he scooped Pyrrhus up in his arms and carried him a safe distance from Paris. It wasn’t that didn’t enjoy seeing Paris get attacked, but he feared the man might kick Pyrrhus in his rage, and he knew Achilles would be inconsolable if such a thing happened.
Astonishingly, Pyrrhus let Patroclus hold him without putting up much of a fight, though he continued to glare at Paris with bared teeth.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Achilles demanded. “You come into my room, you cause violence, you insult my cat.”
Paris laughed – a hollow, mirthless sound. He looked positively unhinged: face flushed, tears welling up in his eyes, blood on his fist.
“What’s wrong with me?” he said hysterically. “What’s wrong with me ? What’s wrong with you , you asshole? I fucking trusted you! I thought we were friends!”
Achilles lifted his chin, frowning. “I thought so too, before you punched me.”
“You shit talked me to Helen!” Paris shouted. “To the woman I love! She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved, and you – And now she –” He broke off, sobbing.
Achilles’ frown deepened. He shook his head, as if remembering something. “Paris, you don’t understand. I didn’t –”
“You think I don’t know it was you? You’re the only person I told that shit to!” Paris snarled.
Achilles shook his head again, bewildered. “I didn’t think –”
“You’re a selfish fucking asshole, Achilles, and you know what? It was pretty fucking stupid of you, considering I know all about your shit as well.”
“Paris, wait –”
“I hate you. You fucking ruined my life, and I hate you. Never speak to me again.”
Achilles’ mouth hung open. Paris turned around before he could reply, storming out and slamming the door behind him.
For a moment after he left, there was silence. Patroclus stood there, holding an angry cat and trying to work out what just happened.
“What –” he started to say, at the same time Achilles declared: “I’m going to kill Odysseus.”
Achilles started towards the door, determination in his eyes, but Patroclus quickly stepped in front of him. He set Pyrrhus down, taking Achilles by the shoulders.
“Woah, woah, woah, wait a minute.”
Achilles’ jaw was clenched, shoulders tense with anger. There was a small stream of blood running down his cheek. “Get out of my way, Patroclus,” he said.
“Achilles, you’re hurt.” Patroclus lifted his hand, fingers ghosting over the cut on Achilles’ cheek. “You’re not going anywhere until you let me take care of this.”
Achilles huffed impatiently. “I’m fine.”
“Sweetheart. Please. Let me at least get you a bandage.”
Achilles softened at the name, like Patroclus knew he would. His shoulders slumped, and he looked up at Patroclus with wide, glassy eyes.
“Pat,” he whispered, face crumpling.
Patroclus frowned. He sensed another meltdown coming on. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Achilles took a shuddering breath, a few tears spilling down his cheeks. “Paris knows everything. He – he knows about me.”
“What do you mean?”
“ Patroclus. ” Achilles gave another huff of impatience. “He knows that I’m gay.”
“Oh.”
“He’ll tell everyone. I – I’ll get sent home.”
Patroclus gathered him up in his arms. He felt him trembling, his warm tears against his neck. “Hey, you don’t know that that’ll happen,” he said softly. “But if it does… well, you know I’d go with you.”
Achilles pulled back, blinking tearfully. “You would?”
Patroclus nodded. “Yeah. I would.” He hadn’t considered it before, but he knew at that moment it was true. There would be no point in staying on the show if Achilles left.
He took Achilles’ hand and led him to the bathroom. Achilles sat down while Patroclus searched the cupboard for some first aid supplies.
Holding Achilles’ chin gently, he tilted it up to inspect the damage.
“Hmm. Lucky for you, I’d guess Paris has never thrown a punch before,” he said. The worst of the injury was a small cut from one of Paris’ rings.
Patroclus cleaned the cut and applied a bandage. Then, before he could think better of it, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Achilles’ cheek.
“All set,” he murmured, leaning back again.
“Thank you,” Achilles said, blushing deeply. He lifted his hand and brushed his fingers lightly over the bandage on Patroclus' own face, from when Pyrrhus had scratched him. “Now we match.”
Patroclus chuckled softly. “I guess we do, huh?” They smiled at each other for a moment, then Patroclus cleared his throat. “I’m going to get you an ice pack. It’ll keep it from bruising.”
He retrieved an ice pack from the hotel’s reception desk, and returned to their room to find Achilles sitting in bed with Pyrrhus curled up in his arms.
Patroclus sat down beside them, handing Achilles the ice pack. He wrapped his arm around Achilles’ shoulders and pulled him against his side. Pyrrhus meowed suspiciously.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Patroclus asked.
Achilles shrugged, running his fingers absently through Pyrrhus’ fur. The cat closed his eyes and began to purr contentedly.
Seconds passed, and Patroclus thought perhaps he wouldn’t say anything, but then he spoke.
“Last week, Odysseus asked me if I knew anything about Paris that he could use against him. He wants Paris to get sent home, because… well, I don’t really know. Who knows what goes on in Odysseus’ mind?”
Achilles swallowed, paused for a moment, then continued. “Anyway, Odysseus threatened to out me if I didn’t help him. He found out I’m gay a while ago and he’s been using it to blackmail me ever since. So, I… I told him some stuff about Paris that was, like, kind of personal. I guess Odysseus must have passed it on to Helen, and now Paris found out, and… yeah. You saw what happened. Now Paris hates me, and I’ll probably get outed anyway.”
Patroclus was trying to process what Achilles had told him, but honestly, he was stuck on the fact that Achilles had said I’m gay twice now. He didn’t know why it surprised him so much, given the previous revelations that evening, but it did. Achilles just said it so easily, as if it were obvious.
"Patroclus?" Achilles was gazing at him expectantly. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”
“What?” Patroclus drew himself back to attention, frowning. “No. No, I don’t think that.”
He tightened his hold around Achilles’ shoulders, pulling him close. “Yeah, what you did to Paris was wrong, but that doesn’t make you a bad person, Achilles. You were under a lot of pressure, and you made a mistake. That happens to everyone.”
Achilles didn’t answer. He curled against Patroclus’ side, sighing.
“Hey,” Patroclus said softly. “Why don’t you try talking to him again tomorrow, after he’s cooled down a bit? He might listen.”
Achilles rested his head on his shoulder, blond curls tickling his face. “Yeah. Maybe.”
***
Patroclus woke to a pair of green eyes staring down at him.
“‘Chilles,” he mumbled, brain still foggy with sleep.
A loud meow sounded in his ear, and he shot up in alarm. Those weren’t Achilles' eyes, he realized; they were the damned cat’s.
He glared at Pyrrhus, muttering curses. Pyrrhus licked his paw innocently.
However, Patroclus’ eyes softened when he noticed Achilles in bed beside him, just beginning to wake up. His heart beat fast as he remembered all that had happened last night – Achilles’ confession, his own promises. They were really doing this now, weren’t they?
He felt breathless as Achilles’ eyes fluttered open, and he sat up, the morning sun casting him in a golden glow. Gods, how did Achilles manage to look perfect first thing when he woke up? Patroclus knew his own hair must be sticking up all over the place.
“‘Morning,” Achilles said, gazing at Patroclus with a sleepy smile. Then, as if reading his mind, he reached behind Patroclus’ ear and tugged on a piece of hair there.
“Your hair never lies flat here.” Achilles batted his lashes shyly. “It’s cute.”
“Oh.” Patroclus’ mind went blank. He felt heat rise to his face. “Um, thanks.”
Oh gods, how was he supposed to do this?
Gathering his wits, he got up and went to the bathroom, splashing some cold water on his face and then beginning to get ready for the day.
When both he and Achilles were ready, they went together to the common room.
It was eerily quiet. Antilochus and Nestor were playing a game of chess at one of the round tables. Ajax was staring forlornly out the window. Even Diomedes looked like a shell of his usual animated self. Two of the men were nowhere to be found: Odysseus and Paris.
“There’s a note from Helen,” Diomedes said solemnly, handing Patroclus a white slip of paper.
Gentlemen, it read.
I am sorry to announce that there will be no cocktail party this evening. Rather, we will gather at the appointed time to discuss your behavior and the appalling events that have occurred here. Afterwards, the rose ceremony will commence as usual.
Sincerely, Helen.
Patroclus felt his throat become dry, and he shared an uneasy glance with Achilles, who had read the note over his shoulder.
“We heard Paris punched you,” Diomedes said to Achilles. “That’s probably what this meeting is about.”
“Yeah,” Antilochus piped in. “Why did he do it, Achilles? Did you have a fight?”
Achilles shifted, uncomfortable. Patroclus wished he could reach out and take his hand, but the men were all watching.
“Who knows?” Achilles said evenly. “He’s insane, if you ask me.”
“Damn right,” Diomedes muttered. “He’s been stirring up bullshit ever since he came here. I hope Helen finally dumps him.”
The other men chimed in in agreement.
Patroclus placed his hand subtly on the small of Achilles’ back, leading him away to get some breakfast, and Achilles gave him a grateful smile.
The morning passed agonizingly slowly. All the men were uneasy, not knowing what to expect when Helen arrived. Achilles went off a couple times to try and talk with Paris, but each time he came back shaking his head, reporting that Paris refused to open the door. It seemed they would just have to wait.
***
When evening finally arrived, the producers began to file in and gather all the men together on the sofas.
Everyone went quiet when Helen walked in. She wore a deep burgundy dress, and was flanked on either side by Aphrodite and… someone else? The woman looked familiar; it took a moment for Patroclus to recognize her as Penelope, Helen’s friend who had been on the show a few weeks back. The three women stood regally at the front of the room, surveying the men as they settled into place.
Only when filming was just about to start did Paris and Odysseus finally slump onto the scene. Odysseus appeared the same as always, but Paris looked as if he were at death’s door. There were dark circles under his eyes, he hadn’t shaved, his suit was rumpled and his blazer didn’t even match his trousers. He and Odysseus stood awkwardly beside each other, as all the seats were already taken.
“Gentlemen,” Aphrodite began. “As you know, the cocktail party has been canceled for this evening. Helen has learned of some disturbing events and has requested to meet with you all. Helen, would you like to explain what’s happened?”
Helen cleared her throat prettily. “Yes, thank you Aphrodite. First of all, I have to say that I’m shocked, and disappointed by what’s happened here. After yesterday’s group date, I returned to a surprise visit from my best friend, Penelope. Of course, I was so happy to see her, but she brought with her some unsettling news about one of the men in this group. Penelope has learned from her contacts that Paris is here for the wrong reasons. Apparently, Paris has told the other men that he’s not really interested in a relationship with me, and that he only wants to claim me like a prize, among other things.”
Paris gave no reaction to this. He was staring at the ground, silent.
“I tried to confront Paris about this last night,” Helen continued. “But he became angry. He left in the middle of our conversation, and the next thing I know, I hear that he’s become violent, that he’s injured one of the other contestants, Achilles.”
Helen took a deep breath, as if gathering her patience. “Paris, I’m going to ask you again. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Paris remained silent; it was as if he hadn’t even heard her.
Helen’s face flushed with anger, and Penelope took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Does anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Helen snapped, looking around the room.
“I’ll tell you something,” Achilles said, and Patroclus turned to him in alarm. “It was Odysseus.”
Helen frowned. “What?”
“Who do you think Penelope’s contacts are?” Achilles asked. "It was Odysseus who told her."
“I don’t understand,” Helen said slowly, glancing from Odysseus to Penelope.
“I'm sorry, Helen, but he’s fucking your best friend. I saw them with my own eyes.”
A few shocked gasps were heard around the room, but Achilles continued. “It was Odysseus who told her that stuff about Paris, but it isn’t true. He was just trying to sabotage him, and… and I helped. That’s why Paris punched me. I deserved it.”
Helen still appeared puzzled. “But – but Penelope would never do that to me.” She looked at the woman beside her, at their joined hands. “Right?”
Penelope opened her mouth, but Odysseus spoke first. “This is fucking ridiculous,” he said, voice threaded with anger. “Helen, do you really think your best friend would betray you?”
Helen looked uncertain.
“You know what?” Odysseus went on. “Achilles is just dragging me into this to distract from the fact that he’s the one who’s been lying to you all this time. You want to know the truth? I’ll tell you. Achilles is –”
Paris grabbed Odysseus by the arm, fingers digging harshly into his flesh. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed.
Achilles stared at him in astonishment.
Helen glanced between the three of them, frowning. “Achilles is what?” she demanded.
“Achilles is right,” said Menelaus.
Everyone turned to him in shock. He’d been sitting in the corner so quietly; Patroclus had hardly noticed he was there.
Menelaus blushed, his eyes flitting nervously to Helen. “I saw Odysseus and Penelope together too,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Helen. I – I didn’t want to upset you.”
There was an angry vein threatening to burst in Odysseus’ forehead, but there was nothing more he could do. If there was one person Helen trusted, it was Menelaus, and he knew it.
“As for Paris,” Menelaus added. “None of those things are true. At least, I never heard Paris say anything like that.”
“I – I can’t believe this,” Helen muttered. She turned to her friend. “Penny, why – How could you?”
Penelope gave her a pitying look. “I did it to look out for you, Hel.”
Penelope walked over to Odysseus, who was still fuming, and took him by the arm. “Come,” she said, and the two of them left the room without another word.
Understandably, Helen needed a few moments to compose herself. Menelaus tried to comfort her, but she brushed him away. Instead, she stood away from the group, wiping her tears and talking in low tones with Aphrodite.
Eventually, Aphrodite stepped before the men and announced that Helen would like to move straight into the rose ceremony. The producers herded everyone into the ceremony room, assembling the men into their places, and Helen stood at the front next to the dish of roses. She still seemed upset, but the ceremony commenced nonetheless, and she began to call their names.
Patroclus was one of the first to receive a rose, and afterwards he waited anxiously for Achilles’ name to be called. He waited, and waited, and soon there were only two roses left, and Achilles, Paris, Nireus, and Idomeneus remained.
She called for Achilles next, and Patroclus let out a breath of relief as he watched her pin the rose to his shirt.
There was a long pause before the final rose was given. Helen turned the flower over in her hands, lips pursed. Finally, after what felt like hours, she spoke.
“Paris.”
The cameras moved to capture Paris' look of disbelief, the tears streaming down his face.
“I’m giving you one more chance,” Helen told him. “Don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t,” Paris promised emphatically. He accepted the rose, then knelt down, kissing Helen’s feet. “I won’t.”
Patroclus rolled his eyes at the dramatics.
The ceremony was over, and he pushed through the group of men until he reached Achilles.
“Hey,” Patroclus smiled, catching him by the elbow.
Achilles looked up at him, relief clear in his face. “Hey.”
Patroclus leaned in to be heard over the chatter of the other men. “Do you want to take a walk?”
Achilles nodded eagerly, linking his arm through Patroclus’ and letting him lead the way towards the exit.
“Are you okay?” Patroclus asked once they were outside.
He huffed in surprise as Achilles pulled him into a tight hug, nodding against his chest. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
“You were so brave,” Patroclus told him. “I’m proud of you.”
"Thanks," Achilles mumbled. He pulled back, nose scrunched up adorably. “I can’t believe Paris stood up for me.”
Patroclus raised his eyebrows. “I can’t believe Menelaus stood up for Paris . ”
They both burst into laughter. Achilles took his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Come on,” he said, and they walked towards the garden.
The hotel had a lovely garden, bursting with yellow primroses and purple heather. Achilles’ hand felt warm in his, and his sweet scent mingled with the aroma of the flowers as they walked. It was quiet outside. Peaceful, after everything that had happened.
“Let’s stop here,” Achilles said. They had reached a hidden corner of the garden, tucked away behind a leafy oak tree. There was a short stone ledge along the perimeter, and Achilles hopped up so that he sat on top of it, feet dangling. He smiled, pulling at Patroclus’ hand until he stood between his legs.
Patroclus felt breathless, lightheaded. Achilles was just… mesmerizing. He looked like he belonged in a fairytale – a golden-haired prince sitting atop a garden wall, a blushing rose pinned to his lapel.
Patroclus was struck with an idea, and he grinned, letting go of Achilles’ hand to fiddle with the rose on his own shirt. He unpinned it, then held it out to Achilles. The other man looked at him curiously, head tilted to one side.
Patroclus cleared his throat, then said seriously: “Achilles, will you accept this rose?”
Achilles giggled, the sound sweet as chiming bells. “Yes, I will,” he answered, blushing.
Patroclus pinned the rose carefully to his shirt, fingers brushing over the skin just above his collar.
He pulled away, then watched as Achilles unfastened the other rose, the one Helen had given him, and held it up between them.
“Patroclus,” he said, looking up at him and fluttering his eyelashes. “Will you accept this rose?”
Patroclus smiled, stepping closer. “Yes,” he whispered. “Always.”
Achilles fastened the rose, brows furrowed in concentration. His fingers lingered there, then moved up and around to the back of Patroclus’ neck, playing with the hair at his nape.
Patroclus felt tingles go through him at the touch. He sighed, letting Achilles’ hand guide him closer. Their noses bumped together, and he felt Achilles' warm breath against his lips.
"Patroclus?" It was a whisper, a question, and the only answer Patroclus could find was yes.
He closed the distance, pressing his lips to Achilles’.
It was a hasty, hesitant kiss, over as soon as it began. They pulled apart, avoiding each other's gaze like two shy schoolboys.
And then Achilles grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him back in.
Achilles was a little clumsy, a little too eager, but Patroclus couldn't help but find it endearing.
Achilles' fingers wound through his hair, tugging, pulling him impossibly closer. His hands settled on the tops of Achilles’ thighs and squeezed, encouraging him. He let Achilles take what he wanted, let him smash their lips together until he pulled away panting.
So, that's what it's like to kiss a man.
“I’ve wanted you to do that for so long,” Achilles grinned, lips pink and swollen.
"Have you?" Patroclus was breathless, head spinning. “You should’ve just asked.”
“Oh, shut up,” Achilles laughed, then kissed him again.
Notes:
I hope you liked it <3 your comments feed my soul <3
Chapter 14
Notes:
this was one of my favorite chapters to write so far, I hope y'all enjoy it :)
Chapter Text
“You make me feel so young
You make me feel there are songs to be sung
Bells to be rung
And a wonderful fling to be flung!”
Achilles belted out the lyrics, using his shampoo bottle as a microphone.
He squirted some shampoo into his palm, and shimmied his hips in a little dance as he massaged it into his hair.
He went through his entire routine – conditioner, then pomegranate scented body scrub – humming along happily the whole time.
He didn’t think he’d ever been so happy.
The man of his dreams kissed him!
Patroclus kissed him !
He hopped out of the shower, drying off with his fluffy towel and then reaching for his body lotion.
Once moisturized, he stepped in front of the mirror, beaming at his reflection. He was flushed from his cheeks to his chest, and he felt warm and jittery all over.
He could hardly believe it really happened; it felt too good to be true.
He brushed his hair, changed into his favorite satin, lilac pyjamas, and was just about to open the door that connected to their bedroom, when he heard something that made him pause.
There were voices on the other side of the door. One of them belonged to Patroclus, that was for sure, but the other one sounded feminine. Achilles frowned, pressing his ear to the door.
He could only catch fragments of the conversation, but he heard the woman say, “about freaking time,” and then “send pics.”
Achilles’ frown deepened. Who was Patroclus sending pics to? And of what?
He couldn’t make out any of what Patroclus was saying in response; his voice was too low and mumbly.
This was pathetic, Achilles decided. Why should he stand here eavesdropping on the man he’d just kissed? He turned the door handle, walking confidently into the room.
Patroclus glanced up, eyes wide and startled. He was sitting in bed with his phone held out in front of him.
“Briseis,” he hissed into the phone. “Bri, shut up.”
The woman continued to rant about something, her voice echoing out of the device in Patroclus’ hand.
Achilles quirked an eyebrow, curious.
He walked over to Patroclus’ bed and flopped down beside him, peering into the screen. Patroclus was on facetime with a pretty woman with dark, curly hair. She shrieked when she saw Achilles.
“Oh my gods! Pat! You didn’t tell me he was so cute!”
Achilles grinned, turning to the man beside him. “Patroclus, who’s this? I like her.”
Patroclus pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Achilles, this is Briseis, my friend from back home. Briseis, this is Achilles, my – well, Achilles.”
“Hi,” Achilles waved at the screen.
“You,” Briseis pointed her finger at him. “You don’t know how much I’ve had to hear about you.”
Patroclus cleared his throat. “Hey Briseis, don’t you have somewhere to be soon?”
“What? No –”
“That’s what I thought. Have a great night! Nice talking!”
“Pat! –”
Patroclus hung up, setting the phone down rather forcefully on the nightstand.
Achilles was grinning from ear to ear.
“You told your friend about me?” he asked, poking Patroclus’ blushing cheek.
“I mean… yeah,” Patroclus muttered, avoiding his gaze.
“Did you tell her that we’re… seeing each other?”
“I – Something like that,” Patroclus stammered. He finally looked over at Achilles, eyes filled with uncertainty. “Is that okay?”
Achilles wrapped his arms around him, crushing him in a tight hug. “It’s absolutely okay.”
“Oh.” He felt Patroclus let out a breath, heard the small smile in his voice. “Okay. Good.”
“How did it feel? To tell someone?” Achilles asked softly.
Patroclus looked like he wasn’t expecting that question. “Oh. Well… I don’t know,” he shrugged. “It’s just Briseis. I’m pretty sure she already knew about it a long time ago.”
Achilles hummed. He took Patroclus’ hand, lacing their fingers together loosely.
“But” Patroclus continued after a moment, “I guess I was a little nervous about telling her.”
Patroclus turned towards him, so they were facing each other. His face was clouded with thought, an expression Achilles had grown accustomed to. Patroclus was always thinking, always so, so careful with his words.
“Do you ever get nervous? About telling people?” he asked eventually.
Achilles rubbed his thumb along Patroclus’ hand, considering. “Sometimes,” he said. “You never know how someone might react. Especially when it’s someone you care about.”
A small crease appeared between Patroclus’ brows. “Has anyone ever reacted badly, when you told them?”
Achilles felt a wry smile tug at his lips. “Did I ever tell you the reason I came on this show?”
Patroclus shook his head, frowning.
“My mom made me,” Achilles explained. “I’ve been telling her I’m gay basically since I came out of her womb, but she’s never acknowledged it. I wasn’t even surprised when she signed me up for the show. She’s always doing things like this – setting me up with girls, trying to force me into, like, this idea she has of the perfect life for me.”
Patroclus squeezed his hand. “That sounds shitty.”
“Yeah, it kinda is. But –” Achilles shrugged. “She’s my mom. And she gives me money.”
“What about your dad?” Patroclus asked.
Achilles smiled. “He’s cool. He’s always pretty busy with work, but, y’know, he’s supportive I guess.”
Patroclus hummed thoughtfully. He held Achilles’ hand firmly, making him feel like he could lay his whole soul bare before him and Patroclus would keep it safe.
Achilles shifted a bit closer, as if drawn to him instinctually.
“What about your family? You never talk about them.”
Patroclus took in a sharp breath, a shadow seeming to fall over his expression.
“You don’t have to, if you don’t want,” Achilles said hurriedly.
“No, no, it’s okay.” Patroclus shook his head. “I… You’re right. It’s not something I talk about often.”
He paused, gathering his thoughts, and Achilles waited quietly.
“My mom died when I was really young. I don’t remember her that much. My dad – It was really hard for him, after she died. He didn’t know how to raise me on his own. I – I’m not sure he ever really wanted to be a father, to be honest. Anyway, one summer he sent me to stay with this man he knew through his work, Chiron. I thought it would only be temporary, at first, but then the summer passed, and my dad didn’t come back for me. I didn’t see him again, after that. I stayed with Chiron, and eventually he adopted me. I was around thirteen, I think.”
Patroclus glanced up at him, hesitant.
Achilles squeezed his hand reassuringly. “What’s he like? Chiron?”
A small smile curled onto Patroclus’ lips, his eyes brightening. “He’s like no one I’ve ever met before. He’s a wildlife ecology professor, and he knows so much about plants, and animals. He lives in this beautiful little house in the mountains, miles away from the nearest city. I remember the first year I lived there with him, he taught me all about medicinal plants, where to harvest them, how to use them to heal wounds. It was what first made me want to become a doctor.”
Achilles smiled. “He sounds wonderful.”
“He is,” Patroclus agreed. “I still go to visit him every summer. I think… I think you would like it there.”
“Yeah?” Achilles asked. The thought that Patroclus might want to take him somewhere so special… He felt his heart flip in his chest.
“Yeah,” Patroclus answered, gazing at him so warmly he thought he would melt.
They were both quiet for a moment, studying one another. The only sound in the room was Pyrrhus’ soft purrs as he snoozed at the end of the bed.
Patroclus’ hair fell onto his forehead in thick brown curls, his dark lashes fluttering as his eyes roamed over Achilles’ face.
Gods, was he pretty.
Achilles blushed and lowered his gaze, too shy to meet the other’s eyes any longer.
“What are you thinking about?” Patroclus asked, and Achilles could hear the teasing smile in his voice.
“Nothing,” he mumbled.
“What?” Patroclus pressed. “Why are you all shy all of a sudden?”
Achilles turned away, hiding his face in Patroclus’ pillow. He felt Patroclus shift beside him, then cold hands dipped underneath his shirt, tickling.
Achilles gasped and tried to squirm away, but the other man held him down, tickling him ‘til he could hardly breath.
“Okay!” he wheezed. “Fine!”
Patroclus halted his attack. Achilles was pinned beneath him, flushed and panting.
“I was just thinking… I would really like it if you kissed me again.”
Patroclus raised an eyebrow, and Achilles felt like his face was on fire.
“Would you?”
Achilles could only nod, cheeks burning.
Patroclus leaned down, breath hovering above Achilles’ lips. Then, at the last moment he turned, giving him a peck on the cheek. “You mean like that?”
Achilles huffed, pouting. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Oh,” Patroclus leaned in again, kissing him on the tip of his nose. “Is that what you mean?”
“ Patroclus, ” he whined.
“Oh, alright,” Patroclus smiled, leaning in once more. “I think I know what you mean.”
Finally , Patroclus’ mouth covered his, warm and sweet.
Achilles sighed, melting into the kiss. Patroclus was a really, really good kisser. He tried not to think about how many women he must have kissed to get so good.
During their first kiss, Achilles had been desperate, wanting to take as much as Patroclus would give him in case it was the only chance he got.
However, this time he allowed himself to slow down, letting Patroclus take control. He relaxed into the pillows and savored the slow, almost sleepy way the other’s lips moved against his own.
Too soon, Patroclus pulled away, kissing his nose once more before rolling off of him. “How was that?”
“Mm,” Achilles blinked his eyes open dreamily. “Yeah. That was nice, thanks.”
Patroclus chuckled softly, and Achilles turned so he was lying on his side, facing him. He felt so warm and content, snuggled here in Patroclus’ bed.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” he asked shyly. They had slept in the same bed the past couple of nights, but he wasn’t sure if Patroclus would feel differently about it now that they’d kissed.
Patroclus reached for his hand, tangling their fingers together again. “Please do.”
Achilles smiled, heart fluttering.
Patroclus rubbed his thumb back and forth along his hand. “Are you tired?”
Achilles yawned.
Patroclus chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes."
He let go of Achilles' hand and pushed gently on his shoulder. “Turn around,” he said.
“Hmm?” Achilles murmured, but he let Patroclus turn him over so he was facing away from him.
Patroclus pulled the blankets over them, then reached across him to turn off the lamp. Then, he felt as the other man’s arm snaked around his waist and pulled him flush against his chest.
Oh, they hadn’t done this before.
Achilles leaned into him, feeling Patroclus’ broad chest against his back and his strong arms wrapped around him, making him feel so safe. He thought surely he must already be dreaming.
***
The next morning, Achilles knelt on the floor, packing his suitcase while Pyrrhus nudged against him, eager to be petted.
“Yes, I know, you need lots of attention, don’t you?” he cooed, reaching down to scratch behind the cat’s ear.
Patroclus was hovering in the doorway, watching them with an uneasy expression.
“Achilles…”
“Yes, what is it?” Achilles said distractedly, fussing to find a place for Pyrrhus’ cat toys in the suitcase.
“You know we’re leaving here, right? And getting on an airplane?”
Achilles looked up at him. “Yes?” he said slowly. “Why do you think I’m packing right now?”
Patroclus sighed. “Listen, honey. I know you’ve gotten attached to him, but you can’t bring this cat with you.”
Achilles couldn’t help it: he laughed.
Patroclus’ brows knitted together in concern.
“Oh, Patroclus.” Achilles stood up, walking over to him and taking the man’s face between his hands. “Sweet, innocent Patroclus. I’m already two steps ahead of you.”
“What do you mean?” Patroclus asked cautiously.
“It’s all been taken care of,” Achilles said breezily. “I told Aphrodite that Pyrrhus is my therapy cat. All I had to do was sign some extra paperwork. He’ll be staying with me the rest of the time I’m on the show.”
Patroclus’ jaw dropped. “Pyrrhus? A therapy cat?” he spluttered. “Achilles, if anything, this animal causes stress and anxiety.”
Achilles glared at him. “Aren’t you happy that Pyrrhus will be in our lives for good now? Who knows what would happen to him if we left him here all alone?”
As if on cue, Pyrrhus walked over and rubbed against Patroclus’ leg.
“Oh, yes,” Patroclus grimaced. “I’m so happy.”
***
As the men walked through the airport, Achilles carried Pyrrhus in a handbag lined with a cushion and blankets. Patroclus told him he looked like an old woman, but he didn’t care. Pyrrhus’ comfort was the only thing that mattered, and the cat seemed quite content in his bag.
However, when they reached the lounge where they would wait for their flight, Achilles handed the cat to Patroclus, telling him to watch him for a moment. Then, he walked over to the kiosk and bought two smoothies, one blueberry mango and the other strawberry banana. With a smoothie in each hand, he took a deep breath, walking towards a lone figure on the other side of the lounge.
“Hey. Can we talk?”
Paris looked up at him, startled, then turned away with a huff. “I have nothing to say to you.”
Achilles sat down beside him, holding out the purple smoothie as a peace offering. Paris eyed it as if it were poison.
“Come on,” Achilles said, pushing the cup towards him. “I know it’s your favorite.”
He waited until Paris reluctantly accepted the smoothie, taking a small sip. “Hmph. It’s not bad,” he admitted.
“Why did you do it?” Achilles blurted out.
Paris scowled at him. “Why did I do what?”
“You stopped Odysseus from outing me.”
“Hmm, well,” Paris pretended to think, “I guess it was because I’m a decent person. A concept you wouldn’t understand.”
Achilles huffed in frustration. “I’m sorry, Paris, okay? How many times do I have to apologize?”
The look Paris gave him was cold as ice. “That’s the first time you’ve apologized, actually.”
“No, it’s – Well, okay, fine, I guess it is. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was a shitty friend.”
“Yeah. You were.”
“Will you forgive me?”
Paris didn’t respond. He took another sip of his smoothie, staring sulkily into the cup.
“Fine,” Achilles said eventually. “Don’t forgive me. I guess I’ll just have to find a new friend to tell all my big, juicy gossip to.”
“What?” Paris perked up, brows furrowed. “What juicy gossip?”
Achilles waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t interest you, seeing as we’re not friends anymore. Maybe I’ll go tell Menelaus. I bet he’d like to know.”
Paris grabbed his arm before he could stand up. “Achilles, wait.”
“Yes?”
“I –” Paris sighed. “Well, I forgive you, alright?”
Achilles grinned. “Really?”
Paris rolled his eyes. “Yes – oof –”
Achilles cut him off with a hug, careful to avoid spilling the smoothies.
Paris pushed him away, jamming his finger into his chest. “But if you ever fuck things up between me and Helen again, I’ll end you,” he threatened.
Achilles shook his head, still grinning. “I promise, I won’t.”
Paris studied him for a moment, then gave a curt nod. “Good. Now, tell me what happened. You look so happy it’s making me sick.”
Achilles laughed. It was true – he could hardly contain how giddy he was. “Okay, so,” he said in a hushed voice, “Patroclus kissed me.”
Paris’ expression didn’t change. “Wait, that’s it? He kissed you?”
“Yes!” He didn’t understand why Paris wasn’t more excited about this.
“Bro.” Paris shook his head. “You’re telling me you guys haven’t been doing that this whole time?”
“No… We kissed for the first time last night.”
“Oh my gods.” Paris looked truly shocked. “Bro. What have you been doing all this time? Like, you should at least be sucking his dick by now. Or he should be sucking yours. Wait, how does that work when there’s two dicks? Do you take turns?”
Achilles covered his face with his hands. “Oh my gods, I hate you so much.”
Paris shrugged. “Just saying. You gotta go for it, man.”
“We’re not there yet!” Achilles protested, feeling his face heat up. “We’re just – We’re taking things slow. I mean, Patroclus didn’t even know he was into guys until recently.”
“Well, show him what he’s been missing, then,” Paris winked. “Don’t you want to have some fun before it’s all over?”
Achilles frowned. “Before what’s all over?”
“The show, man.” Paris looked at him as if he were stupid. Then he started laughing. “What? You don’t think that he’ll want to be with you after the show, do you? That he actually wants to be your boyfriend, or something?”
“I – I don’t know,” Achilles stammered, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Paris was laughing like the idea of someone wanting to be his boyfriend was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.
“Listen, dude,” Paris said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna be real honest with you. You said he’s just figuring out he’s into guys? He probably just wants to experiment with you.”
“Oh.” Achilles swallowed thickly. “I guess – maybe you’re right.”
He thought of their conversation last night, how intimate it had felt. Patroclus wouldn't have opened up to him like that if he was just an experiment, right? But then he wasn't sure... He didn't exactly have a lot of experience with these things himself.
He imaged Patroclus forgetting about him after the show ended, and felt his eyes start to sting.
"Hey," Paris patted his shoulder. “Nothing to get upset over. Like I said, have some fun while you’re here. I just wouldn’t get your hopes up for something more.”
“Achilles?” Patroclus was standing over them, Pyrrhus’ bag slung over his shoulder. “Did you hear the announcement? It’s time for us to board.” He glanced between Achilles and Paris, brows furrowed in concern. “Is everything alright?”
Achilles took a deep breath, swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah, let's go."
Chapter 15
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Achilles was in one of his moods again.
They had just landed in Malta, and rather than joining the other men to explore the resort and enjoy the sun, he’d gone straight to the bedroom and collapsed face first onto one of the beds.
Patroclus was, of course, concerned, though not as concerned as he might have been a few weeks ago. He had become somewhat familiar with Achilles’ mood swings by now. He knew that the other man could be set off by the smallest offense, and that he needed to be treated delicately when it happened.
Patroclus sat down on the edge of the bed and carded his fingers through Achilles’ hair. It amazed him how soft it was, how easily it slipped through his fingers.
“Are you tired?” he asked. It seemed unlikely, considering Achilles had slept on his shoulder the entirety of the flight.
Achilles mumbled something into the pillow.
“Hmm?” Patroclus leaned closer. “I can’t hear you.”
Achilles lifted his face, pouting. “I’m not tired.”
Patroclus studied him, as if he might be able to decipher from the pout on his face what was wrong. “Are you feeling okay? Are you thirsty? Hungry? Can I get you something?”
Achilles seemed to consider the questions. Then he mumbled: “I’m a little hungry.”
Patroclus sighed in relief. This was something he could solve, at least. “Alright,” he said. “What do you want me to bring you?”
Achilles opened his mouth, but his lip wavered. He seemed so overwhelmed by the question that he might burst into tears. “Don’t know…”
“Alright, okay,” Patroclus soothed, tucking a strand of hair behind Achilles’ ear. “I’ll go find something for you, how about that?”
Achilles nodded, sniffling. “Yes, please.”
When Patroclus walked into the resort’s kitchen, he found a sight he would have never expected to see. Menelaus and Paris were sitting together at the kitchen island, talking over a cup of coffee like old friends. Patroclus stopped in his tracks, eyebrows shooting up into his hairline.
The two men fell silent as soon as they noticed him.
Menelaus gave him a tight smile. “Hey, Pat.”
“Hey,” Patroclus replied slowly, staring between the two of them. “I – Sorry to interrupt, I was just looking for a snack.”
“There’s some apple tart in the fridge,” Paris offered. His tone was neutral, his face schooled into its usual cold, impassive expression.
“Oh… great, thanks.”
Patroclus hurried to the refrigerator, happy to put some distance between himself and that bizarre interaction. Since when did Menelaus and Paris have secret discussions? The only time Patroclus had seen them talk to each other at all was when Paris was throwing insults at Menelaus, or complaining that he wasn’t worthy of Helen’s attention.
Even from across the room he could feel the tension between them. They were dead quiet, obviously waiting for Patroclus to leave before they continued talking.
“Well, this is awkward as fuck,” he heard Paris mutter under his breath.
“I told you we could go to my room,” Menelaus whispered, sounding just as annoyed.
“Yeah, as if I would step foot in there.”
“You’re so childish.”
“You’re a dick.”
Patroclus cut a slice of tart for Achilles and made him a cup of tea as well, then he got the hell out of there. When he returned to their room with the plate and mug balanced in his hands, Achilles was sitting up in bed, Pyrrhus cradled in his lap.
“You’ll never guess who I ran into in the kitchen.”
Patroclus sat down beside him, telling him what he’d witnessed. Achilles hummed, appearing disinterested. He accepted the plate from Patroclus and took a small bite.
“Don’t you think it’s strange that those two are being civil?” Patroclus pressed. It wasn’t that he actually cared all that much; he was mostly just trying to draw Achilles out of his funk.
Achilles merely shrugged, taking another bite, and Patroclus sighed in defeat. They fell into silence, only the soft sounds of Achilles chewing and slurping his tea filling the room. Pyrrhus sat at Achilles’ side, begging for crumbs.
“He’s just like a dog,” Patroclus joked, attempting to lighten the mood, but Achilles hardly responded. He finished his tart and then set the plate down for the cat to lick.
Patroclus racked his brain for why Achilles could be behaving this way. He had seemed perfectly fine last night. Last night was… well, perfect. Patroclus had to bite his lip to keep from smiling at the memory. He had been so afraid to kiss Achilles. All that time he’d dwelled on what it would mean, and made so many failed attempts, but now that he’d finally done it he couldn’t imagine why he’d ever had any doubt. Kissing Achilles had confirmed everything he’d thought he felt about him, everything he’d been too scared to admit before.
But now, with Achilles acting like this, it dawned on him that maybe…
“Do you regret it?”
Achilles’ head snapped up, brows furrowed. “What?”
“Do you regret kissing me?” It pained Patroclus to even say the words, but he had to ask.
“What?” Achilles repeated, hurt and confusion mixing in his expression. “I – Why would you ask me that? Do you regret it?”
“Of course I don’t,” Patroclus assured him. “It just seems like you’re upset, so I thought –”
“I can’t believe you would ask me that,” Achilles cut him off, angry tears welling in his eyes.
“Well, what am I supposed to think?" Patroclus sighed, growing frustrated. “Last night we kissed, and now you’re hardly speaking to me.”
Achilles’ lip trembled, and he turned away, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest.
“Seriously? You’re not going to say anything?” Patroclus waited, his patience running to its limit, but Achilles clearly wasn’t going to budge. “Fine, then,” he said, starting to stand up. There was no point in sitting there if Achilles didn’t even want to look at him.
However, before he could move he felt a hand curl around his biceps and heard Achilles’ broken voice: “Where are you going?”
“Out,” Patroclus replied curtly. “You don’t want me here anyway.”
Achilles’ face crumpled, and he latched onto Patroclus’ arm. “Yes, I do,” he sobbed, “Patroclus, please don’t leave.”
Patroclus heaved a sigh. He had no choice but to settle back onto the bed, letting Achilles’ head fall on his shoulder and his warm tears soak into his t-shirt. He was sure he’d get bruises from Achilles’ fingertips digging into his arm. He leaned his head against the headboard, staring at the ceiling as Achilles cried. He didn’t know what to think, how to calm the whirlwind of emotions that raged within the man beside him. He supposed he would just have to stay and see it through.
Achilles worked himself into such a state that soon enough he was asleep on Patroclus’ shoulder. When Patroclus heard the other man’s soft snores, he pressed a kiss to his head and carefully maneuvered him until he was lying down on the pillow. He covered him with blankets and then stood up, stretching out his back.
Patroclus took a long, hot shower, and by the time he returned to bed he was exhausted, and felt a headache coming on. He laid down next to Achilles, Pyrrhus sprawled at their feet, and fell into a fitful sleep.
***
Patroclus woke early to the first rays of dawn pouring through the window. He’d tossed and turned the whole night, troubled by Achilles’ outburst, and now felt bone-weary but somehow too restless to stay in bed. What he needed was coffee.
He left Achilles sleeping and made his way to the kitchen, luckily not walking in on any hushed conversations this time. He made his coffee in peace, then decided to take it outside to enjoy the crisp morning air.
It was a gorgeous, sunny day, and though he hadn’t gotten a chance to look around much, the resort was beautiful. He walked towards the beach, cradling his mug between his palms as he stepped over the warm sand. He eventually sat down on a rock close to the water, sipping his coffee and watching the rhythmic motion of the waves lapping against the shore.
Before long, he heard footsteps approaching, swift and light, and knew without turning around who it was. When had he become so attuned to Achilles that he recognized him just by the sound of his footfalls? He hardly had time to ponder it before the other man plopped down right onto his lap. Well. Patroclus couldn’t complain about this.
“Good morning,” he said, putting an arm around Achilles’ waist to steady him.
“Hi,” Achilles replied quietly. His head was hung low, avoiding Patroclus’ eyes. “I’m sorry for being so awful to you yesterday.”
“It’s alright,” Patroclus said. He wasn’t angry, after all. Confused and tired, yes, but not angry.
Achilles shook his head miserably. “It’s not. You’re always so perfect and nice to me, and I’m just… just a mess.” His voice cracked, eyes welling up. Patroclus was truly astounded by the amount of tears this man had in him.
“Hey.” Patroclus rubbed his back soothingly, hoping to stop the flood. “Don’t say that. You know very well I’m not perfect.”
Achilles shook his head again, stubbornly. “You are. And I don’t regret kissing you, Patroclus. I could never regret that.”
“Well, what’s this about, then? Are you going to tell me why you’re upset?”
Rather than answering right away, Achilles began to squirm in Patroclus’ lap, making himself comfortable. Patroclus took in a sharp breath. He prayed to any god who would listen for Achilles to stop moving his ass against that one particular spot, or he would have an even bigger problem on his hands.
Mercifully, Achilles eventually sat still again and began to speak. “Before we left Scotland, Paris said something to me and, I don’t know, I just got all in my head,” he confessed.
Patroclus felt a flare of anger rise in him. Of course this was because of Paris. Achilles might have forgiven Paris for punching him, but Patroclus certainly hadn’t. He’d never really approved of their friendship, if he was honest. The thought that Paris might have said something to hurt his sweet Achilles had his blood boiling.
“What did he say to you?” he asked, tightening his hold around Achilles’ waist protectively.
Achilles hesitated. “He – he said that you’re probably just using me, like, to experiment with your sexuality.”
Patroclus felt his heart sink.
Achilles lifted his gaze to the sky, blinking back tears. “I’m not mad at you, Patroclus,” he continued. “If that’s all you want, I mean – it would be okay. Maybe it’s selfish of me to want something more, but–”
“Be my boyfriend, Achilles.”
The words were surprising even to himself. He was never usually so impulsive. Achilles blinked at him, shocked. “I – Do you mean it?”
Patroclus didn’t think twice. He didn’t want Achilles to have any needless doubts about how he felt about him. He nodded. “Yeah, I mean it. I already gave you my rose, didn’t I?”
The smile that broke out on Achilles’ face made him sure he’d said the right thing. Achilles hugged him. “Oh! Patroclus, I’m so happy!”
Patroclus chuckled, holding him tight. “Is that a yes, then?”
Achilles nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, one hundred percent yes."
Patroclus smiled fondly at the beautiful boy in his lap. His boyfriend . He cupped Achilles’ cheek, pressing their lips together.
“Bleh,” Achilles grimaced. “You taste like black coffee.”
Patroclus scoffed, offended. “Wow, you sure make me feel good about myself, making that face after I kiss you.”
Achilles grinned. “Don’t worry, I still want to kiss you,” he said, and pulled him in again.
***
When Patroclus and Achilles returned to the resort a while later, they found that the men were gathered there waiting for them. Diomedes waved a slip of paper in their faces, grinning wickedly. Well, to be more accurate, he waved it in Achilles’ face. “We’ve got a surprise for you, golden boy,” he said.
Patroclus held his breath, already knowing what was coming. Diomedes unfolded the paper and read aloud: “Achilles, let’s have some fun in the sun. Love, Helen.”
Achilles accepted the date card, looking horrified. The men swarmed him, congratulating and teasing and patting him on the back.
“You’ve been waiting for this moment, haven’t you young man?” Nestor winked at him, and Achilles looked like he might be sick.
Achilles glanced at him, eyes pleading, and Patroclus took it as his cue to take Achilles’ hand, excusing him from the other men and leading him towards their bedroom. Once they were inside, Achilles collapsed dramatically into his arms. “I don’t wanna go,” he whined.
Patroclus felt a small smile tug at his lips. This was another thing he was learning – how clingy Achilles could be. He was really like a small child who always wanted to be held. And, if Patroclus was honest, he didn’t want Achilles to go on this date either. It wasn’t that he was jealous - After all, how many times had Achilles made it clear that he wasn’t interested in women? It was just… he had hoped that they could spend the day together, but now Achilles was being whisked away from him.
However, Patroclus knew that at least one of them needed to be sensible here. “It won’t be so bad,” he said. “You might even have fun – I did on my date with Helen.”
That was evidently the wrong thing to say, given the wounded look that came over Achilles’ face.
“I see,” Achilles said coldly, pulling away from him. “You’ll probably be happy to get rid of me, won’t you?”
“Oh, come on Achilles, don’t be like that.” Patroclus pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
Achilles huffed, lifting that stubborn chin of his.
“I could help you choose an outfit?” Patroclus suggested, grasping for anything that might lighten Achilles’ mood.
Achilles nodded reluctantly. “Fine.”
Patroclus sat down on the bed as Achilles started rifling through his wardrobe. He took out one item of clothing after the next, frowning at it, sometimes mumbling under his breath, then putting it back. He eventually turned to Patroclus, a few garments draped over his arm. “Okay,” he said. “Close your eyes.”
Patroclus smiled, shutting his eyes obediently, even covering them with his hands for good measure.
“No peeking,” Achilles told him in an accusatory tone.
“I won’t,” Patroclus promised.
He heard the sound of fabric rustling, and a series of little huffs and hums from Achilles. It went on for quite some time. Finally, the room went quiet, and Achilles told him to open his eyes.
“How do I look?” Achilles asked, spinning around for him. He was wearing a white, short-sleeve button down with the first few buttons undone, and a pair of tight, beige colored shorts.
Patroclus felt heat pool in his stomach at the sight. Goodness, did Achilles own anything that didn’t accentuate his ass like that? He thought about Helen seeing him like this, and shook his head disapprovingly. “No,” he decided. “No, this won’t do at all.” Those shorts were much too tight.
Achilles pouted. “You don’t like it?” He turned to the mirror on the wall, checking himself out. “I thought I looked cute…”
Patroclus stood up, coming up behind Achilles and placing his hands on his hips. “You do look cute,” he assured him, looking at their reflection. “You look too cute. Helen wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off you if you wore this.”
His hands wandered from Achilles’ hips to his stomach, pulling him flush against his chest, and Achilles gave him a cheeky smile in the mirror. “I think it’s you who can’t keep your hands off me, Patroclus.”
“Hmm,” Patroclus tucked his face against Achilles’ neck, pressing a kiss just below his ear. “You might be right about that.”
He continued to pepper him with little kisses, working his way along the line of his jaw, where his skin was irresistibly tender. “Oh –” Achilles said breathlessly, tilting his head to give Patroclus better access, “Oh, that feels nice.” And Patroclus was overcome with affection for him, for how honest and sweet he was. He let his mouth take on a mind of its own, lost in the feeling of Achilles’ soft skin and the little sounds he was making.
Suddenly Achilles gasped, pulling away. Patroclus blinked, disoriented, as he stepped closer to the mirror and lifted his fingertips to his neck. Then he saw it: a bright red mark, clashing against the white fabric of his shirt.
Patroclus’ eyes grew wide. “Oh – oh my gods.” Shit. Fuck. Achilles was about to leave for his date with Helen, and Patroclus had just given him a huge, glaring hickey. “Fuck, Achilles, I’m so sorry,” he said miserably. “I – I wasn’t even trying to do it. Fuck, this is bad.”
Achilles turned to face him slowly, fingers still hovering over his neck. Amidst his panic, Patroclus realized there was a ridiculous smile plastered on the other man’s face. Achilles stepped towards him again, getting in his space. “You really wanted to show Helen I’m all yours, didn’t you?” he teased.
Patroclus gaped at him, lost for words. “I – Achilles, this is serious. You need to cover that thing up. Do you have make-up or something?” There were so many bottles and tubes littering Achilles' suitcases, he must have something...
Achilles shook his head, still grinning. “Why should I cover it up? Maybe I want her to know I’m a taken man too.”
“Achilles.” He tried to sound stern. “If Helen sees that she’ll think you’ve been with some other woman.”
“Oh, don’t worry so much.” Achilles brushed him off. “She probably won’t even notice.”
Patroclus wanted to beg to differ, but Achilles wouldn’t listen. He pushed him back onto the bed, declaring that he was going to try on another outfit. The next outfit turned out to be a navy-blue shirt and white shorts, which Patroclus gave his reluctant approval to, though Achilles still looked much too alluring for his liking. He was worried about the hickey, but Achilles didn’t seem bothered in the least, so he decided that maybe he was overreacting. He watched as Achilles fixed his hair in the mirror, then stepped towards the door.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me goodbye?” Achilles asked with his signature pout.
Of course, Patroclus wouldn't deny him; he was beginning to think he never could. He lifted his hand to Achilles' neck, fingers ghosting over the blushing red mark. He really hadn't meant to do it, but seeing it now stirred something in him, and he didn't exactly regret it. Perhaps some primal part of him did want to claim Achilles as his own. Patroclus dismissed those thoughts from his mind, and pressed his lips to Achilles', fingers cradling the back of his neck. Achilles was just as expressive with his kisses as he was with everything else he did, and this one was a slow, gentle, I’ll miss you kiss. It took a great deal of Patroclus' strength to pull away.
"Go on then," he said softly. "You don't want to keep Helen waiting."
After Achilles left, the room felt dismal and much too quiet. Patroclus sat down on the bed again and Pyrrhus jumped onto his lap, claws digging painfully into his thighs.
He winced. “I guess it’s just you and me today,” he said to the cat.
Pyrrhus responded by biting his hand.
Notes:
thanks again for reading hehe :)
Chapter 16
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Achilles stood on the beach with his hands shoved in his pockets as Helen approached him. She was smiling brightly, wearing a cute yellow crop top and high waisted shorts, her long hair rippling behind her as she walked. She looked really pretty, Achilles admitted bitterly.
If he was honest, the memory of Helen kissing his man was still fresh in his mind, and he wasn’t exactly happy to be spending the day with her. Still, he knew what he needed to do.
Act straight. Pretend you like her.
“Achilles!” She pulled him into a tight hug. “It’s good to see you!”
He returned the hug stiffly. “Yeah, you too!”
“I have a super fun day planned for us,” Helen told him cheerfully, taking his hand as they started to walk along the beach.
Achilles trailed after her, feeling a bit awkward. What did straight couples talk about on dates? He searched his mind, trying to remember all of the one-on-ones he’d watched on previous Bachelorette seasons.
Then it came to him: he would give her a compliment. That couldn’t go wrong, right?
He turned to her, clearing his throat. “Your hair looks really cute, Helen. Did you get highlights?”
Helen gave him a look of amazement. “I did!” she grinned. “I can’t believe you noticed!”
“How could I not?” he returned with a charming smile.
Helen squeezed his arm affectionately. “You’re too sweet. You know, sometimes I feel like men are just blind to hair and make-up completely. Like, on my date with Meni a few weeks ago I’d just gotten a trim, and did he say a word? No.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Achilles said passionately. “Last week I started trying out a new conditioner, and Patroclus didn’t even take a second look.”
Helen raised her eyebrows, and Achilles blushed, realizing his mistake. “I mean! Not that he would have a reason to! We’re just bros, or whatever.”
“Right,” Helen replied slowly.
Achilles started to panic, thinking for sure he’d given himself away, but then Helen just smiled at him as if nothing had happened. “I can totally see the difference, by the way. Your hair looks so soft,” she said, reaching up to ruffle his curls with her fingers. “What’s the brand?”
They fell into easy conversation after that, walking together along the colorful beachfront, and Achilles felt a bit relieved. Maybe the day wouldn’t be so bad, after all. Helen was nice enough, and he found that they actually had quite a few things in common as they compared their favorite cosmetic brands. They even stopped at a little sorbet stand, both of them ordering a scoop of mango.
As the day began to grow warm, Helen suggested that they dip their feet in the water to cool off. They left their shoes on the beach and stepped into the sea, wading out until the waves lapped at their ankles. The water was a clear, sparkling blue, and it felt refreshing after their stroll in the sun.
Achilles closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the breeze in his hair and the warm sun against his face. Then, suddenly, he felt a pair of hands curl around his own, and when he opened his eyes again Helen was standing right in front of him.
“Hey,” she smiled up at him coyly.
Achilles blinked, startled by the sudden proximity. “Um. Hi?”
“Do you know why I asked you on this date, Achilles?” Helen asked, rubbing her thumbs over the backs of his hands.
Achilles was beginning to feel uneasy. “Why?”
“Well, on opening night, when you stepped out of the limo, you were one of the first guys I had my eye on. I think I’ve had a little crush on you all along.” Helen glanced up, gauging his reaction.
“Oh!” Achilles felt sick. Helen was looking at him expectantly, and fuck, he needed to say something. Anything . “Um! That’s nice of you, Helen.”
Helen smiled, seemingly satisfied with his reaction. Then she stepped closer, and her gaze drifted down to his lips. Achilles’ eyes widened in horror. Oh, no. Oh gods, was she going to –
“Fuck!” he cried, springing away from her. “I think I just got, um… stung! By a jellyfish!”
“Oh! Oh my gods!” Helen’s face morphed from shocked to concerned.
“We should probably get out of the water!” Achilles said, already heading towards the beach.
Helen followed his lead, and once they were back on dry sand, she squinted at his foot. “I don’t see anything…” she said. “Does it hurt?”
“A little,” Achilles twisted his face into a grimace, feigning pain. “I think I heard that the stings aren’t visible right away. It probably won’t show up for a few hours.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Helen fretted. “I guess we should end the date early. I had planned for us to go shopping, but –”
“Shopping?” Achilles interrupted, his face brightening. “I love shopping.”
“But your foot –” Helen frowned.
Achilles waved his hand dismissively. He would not miss an opportunity to update his wardrobe. “Oh, it was just a small sting. It’s already feeling better, see?” He took a few steps on the sand.
“Well,” Helen said, “if you’re sure…”
They went into a formal wear shop first. “Come on,” Helen smiled, taking Achilles’ hand and leading him through the aisles. “We can pick out our outfits for this week’s cocktail party.”
They both chose some outfits to try on, taking turns in the fitting rooms. Helen had excellent taste, and even suggested a few suits for Achilles to try. One of these was a gray suit with a blush pink tie. It fit Achilles perfectly, the jacket resting nicely on his shoulders and the trousers snug but not too tight.
“What do you think?” he asked, pulling back the fitting room curtain and stepping out for Helen to see.
“Oh!” Helen clapped her hands together in excitement. “You look so cute!” She reached up to brush her fingers over the fabric of his tie. “This is definitely your color.”
“Thanks,” Achilles smiled, preening at the compliments.
Helen gave him a hesitant look, her hand lingering near his chest. For an instant, Achilles was afraid she would try to make a move again, but then she lowered her hand and took a step back. “He’s going to love it,” she said softly.
Achilles’ breath caught in his throat. “W – what?”
Helen gave him a small, knowing smile. “Patroclus. I bet he’ll love this suit on you.”
Achilles gaped at her. “You know?”
“Honey,” Helen said, “did you really think I was that clueless?”
“But – but you tried to kiss me!” Achilles protested.
Helen sighed. “Okay, so I didn’t know for sure until after that, but I had my suspicions. The kiss was sort of a final test, if you will. I mean, it was pretty obvious when I saw this .” She pointed at the love bite on Achilles’ neck, and he blushed deeply. “You didn’t even try to hide it.”
“Are you going to send me home?” Achilles asked quietly, feeling his heart sink. Would he even be allowed a chance to say goodbye to Patroclus?
Helen considered the question, then shook her head once, definitively. “No. Not yet. I want to see how this turns out for you two.”
Achilles looked at her in astonishment. “Really? Oh –” He hugged her, almost lifting her off the ground in his relief. “Oh, thank you!”
Helen laughed, and when they parted she reached for his hand, squeezing it once. “Everyone deserves a love story, Achilles,” she said. “I came here looking for mine, but… I hope you find yours too.”
Achilles couldn’t help the huge grin that spread onto his face. “Yeah, I hope so too.”
Helen declared that she still had one more dress to try on, one that would match perfectly with Achilles’ suit, so he waited while she went back in the fitting room. When she stepped out again she was wearing a strapless, rose-colored gown. There were sequins beaded delicately into the bodice, and the shade went beautifully with Helen’s pale blond hair. She smiled, spinning so the skirt fanned out around her.
Achilles gasped softly. “Girl, you look like a freaking goddess.”
Helen’s smile grew wider. “Honestly? I kind of feel like one." She pulled Achilles towards the mirror. "Come here, we have to get pictures."
They bought the dress and suit, then went into a few more shops. After several hours, Achilles’ arms were laden with bags and he was sure he’d made a significant dent in Thetis’ credit card balance. However, as they were about to leave the shopping center, Helen grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Wait,” she said. “I want to go in one more place.”
Achilles was horrified to find that they were stopped in front of a ladies’ lingerie shop. Helen charged forward towards a wall lined with bras, leaving Achilles standing near the entrance like a lost dog. He glanced around the shop, unsure what to do with himself. There were only a couple of other men there, and they seemed to be in a similar position, waiting around awkwardly for their girlfriends or wives to finish shopping. One of them gave Achilles a nod of solidarity.
After a few moments, Helen came back to him with an armful of frilly red fabric. “Why are you just standing there?” she asked, looking confused. “Don’t you see anything you like?”
Achilles spluttered. “I – What?”
Helen rolled her eyes. “Come on,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to a wall of undergarments. “Go on, take a look.”
Achilles stepped forward cautiously. His gaze drifted over the various colors and styles, not sure what he should be looking for – but then his eye caught on a pair of black lace panties with a little bow on the front. They were simple, not too flashy, and yet they held a sort of timeless charm. He reached forward and brushed his fingers against the fabric, feeling a flush rise in his cheeks. He’d never worn something like this before, but he had to admit he was intrigued…
The thought rose in his mind before he could help it: What would Patroclus think?
“I wonder if he would like them…” he whispered aloud.
Beside him, Helen let out a soft hum, and Achilles jumped, tearing his hand away from the rack; he had nearly forgotten she was there.
“I’m going to tell you a piece of life advice, Achilles,” she said, giving him a gentle smile. “Don’t buy cute panties to impress a guy. Buy them for you. Do you like them?”
Achilles turned to look at the panties again. He hesitated for just a moment, then nodded, lips curling into a small smile. “Yeah, I think I do.”
Helen grinned. “Come on then, you’re getting them,” she declared, grabbing them off the rack and shoving them against Achilles’ chest.
They checked out together, sharing a secret smile when the cashier assumed Achilles was buying the panties for Helen. Then they walked outside again, heading back in the direction of the resort. When they arrived back at the beach, they found a little table waiting for them. On it was a bottle of chilled champagne, a couple of glasses, and a single rose on a small golden dish. They sat down, and Helen opened the champagne, pouring each of them a glass.
Helen raised her glass in a toast. “To the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
Achilles repeated the phrase wholeheartedly, knocking his glass against hers. He would've never imagined it, but he had begun to admire her. He was starting to understand what all the guys saw in her, he supposed.
They sipped their champagne, chatting a while longer as the sun began to set, and when they parted ways, Achilles had a rose pinned to his lapel.
***
When he walked into the common room, Achilles was met with resounding cheers from the other men. They were all gathered on the sofas, and it seemed they had been waiting for his return.
“Bro, we need all the deets,” Diomedes said, throwing an arm around Achilles’ shoulders and pulling him into the group.
As Achilles glanced around the room, his gaze naturally landed on Patroclus. Their eyes met, and Achilles ducked his head shyly. It hadn’t even been a full day, but, oh, how he had missed Patroclus. He was aching to get him alone, to hear his gentle voice, and be held by him.
However, the other men were demanding his attention, begging to know how he and Helen had spent the day. He answered their questions as patiently as he could. He told them the details of their date, possibly adding a few embellishments here and there to make it more believable. At the end of his explanation, Antilochus leaned forward, and asked the question that all the guys were clearly dying to know: “Did you kiss her?”
Achilles should have been expecting this, really. He pursed his lips, trying to appear cryptic. “Perhaps.”
“Oh, he so did,” Diomedes grinned wolfishly. "Look at that smirk!"
“Achilles, you better not have,” Paris glared at him.
“Come on, Achilles, tell us how it happened,” Antilochus urged.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Patroclus get up and leave the room, and his heart sank. He excused himself, leaving the men to their speculations, and followed after Patroclus. He found him on the patio, leaning against the wall of the building and staring out at the sea. Achilles approached him slowly.
“Patroclus?” he said softly.
Patroclus hummed, not turning his head. There was a little crease between his brows, the telltale sign that he was worrying about something. Achilles stepped in front of him, so the other man would have no choice but to look at him. “Patroclus, you know I didn’t really kiss her, right? I only said that to get the guys off my back.”
“You didn’t?” Patroclus asked. His voice was calm but his brown eyes were tinged with hurt.
Achilles stared at him in disbelief. “Patroclus, you know I didn’t. I wouldn’t . I – First of all, I’m gay as hell , second of all, I have a boyfriend , and third of all, Helen knows .”
Patroclus frowned. “What do you mean, she knows?”
“She knows about us,” Achilles said simply.
Patroclus’ frown deepened into an expression Achilles had never seen on him before. He looked almost angry. “Did you tell her?”
Achilles’ mouth fell open, shocked at the accusation. “ No, she figured it out on her own. I – Why would I have told her?”
“Well, you already told Paris, didn't you?” Patroclus retorted. “Without my permission, by the way.”
Achilles couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His face flushed with anger and hurt, tears springing to his eyes. “You told Briseis, too, you know,” he said defensively. “How is that any different?”
“Briseis isn’t on this show,” Patroclus snapped. “If Paris were to say something, or now Helen – the whole world could find out, Achilles.”
Achilles turned away, stunned, wiping his tears. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he said quietly. “Should I have denied it?”
Patroclus was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I just – I wasn’t expecting anyone to find out so quickly.”
Achilles swallowed thickly, humiliated that he was crying in front of Patroclus for what felt like the hundredth time in the past week. He hated this conversation. He hated how it felt like everything was falling apart, just as it had been starting to come together. “Well, I’m sorry,” was all he could manage to say.
Patroclus’ face softened, and he sighed, pushing his hand through his hair. “Hey, no,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. It was uncalled for.” He reached for Achilles’ hand. “Let’s just forget it, okay?”
Achilles let himself be tugged closer, felt Patroclus’ fingers lace through his own. He nodded hesitantly. “Okay.” It was clear that this was far from being resolved, but he didn’t have it in him to argue anymore, and he could sense that Patroclus didn’t either.
Patroclus pressed their foreheads together, and after a moment he whispered: "I missed you today."
Achilles felt a flood of warmth seep into the place where his heart had been aching. He closed his eyes, leaning into Patroclus' touch. Their noses brushed together, then their lips, and for the moment he believed that things were going to be alright.
***
That evening, as Patroclus laid in bed, Achilles subtly took one of his shopping bags into the bathroom. He made sure the door was bolted locked, then pulled the little black garment from the bag. He held the panties in his hands for a moment, just feeling how soft and delicate they were. He felt a rush of excitement as he took off his clothes and stepped into them.
They were definitely not designed with male anatomy in mind, he soon discovered. It took quite a bit of shifting and tucking to fit all of himself into them, and then they weren’t all that comfortable, but…
He looked in the mirror, turning this way and that. The black lace contrasted sharply against his golden skin, the little bow resting just above his bulge. He turned around fully, peering over his shoulder to admire how the fabric accentuated the curve of his ass. He felt very… feminine. He felt beautiful, he realized, blushing.
Maybe Helen was right after all.
Notes:
wishing you all a lovely day/night <333
Chapter 17
Notes:
It's FINALLY here! I apologize profusely for how long this chapter took, I hope it will make up for the wait :')
I can't guarantee that the next chapter will be out any sooner as I'll be travelling in the next few weeks but uhhhh I'll do my best :"")
I hope you enjoy it!! <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
There was a warm, heavy weight settled on top of Patroclus. There was something pressing insistently against his nose and tickling his face. He winked one eye open, and was met with Achilles’ green eyes peering down at him, his hair falling onto Patroclus’ face.
“‘Morning,” Achilles smiled, rubbing his nose against Patroclus’.
Patroclus was a bit surprised to be woken up so affectionately, especially after his and Achilles’ argument the day before, but he certainly couldn't complain. “Good morning,” he said, and reached to tuck a couple of blond curls behind Achilles’ ear. Achilles’ hair had grown longer over the time they’d been on the show, starting to resemble a little lion’s mane first thing in the morning. The thought made Patroclus grin, his hand lingering along the shell of Achilles’ ear.
“Why are you laughing at me?” Achilles pouted.
Patroclus’ grin widened, a huff escaping his lips. “I’m not laughing at you, sweetheart.”
Achilles blushed at the pet name, but continued pouting. “You are!” He poked Patroclus’ cheek as if to prove his point.
Patroclus sighed, playing with the ends of Achilles’ hair. “I was just thinking how cute you look with your bedhead,” he admitted.
Achilles’ lips parted, his cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink. “Really?” he asked, bashful, as if he didn’t know just how beautiful Patroclus found him. Patroclus suspected he just wanted to be told again and again, which he was glad to do.
“Mhmm,” he assured, threading his fingers through Achilles’ hair and leaning up to kiss him.
The other man hummed happily, parting his lips to let Patroclus’ tongue slip inside his mouth. Patroclus kissed him slowly, savoring the sweet taste of him and the warm, comforting weight of his body pressed against his own. His hands travelled from Achilles’ hair to the small of his back, holding him there gently.
He could never tire of kissing Achilles. The other man’s lips were sweet and full, and moved in sync with Patroclus’ as if they were made for each other. However, not for the first time, Patroclus felt himself longing for more. He wanted to get lost in Achilles. He wanted to pull him closer, until there was no space left between them.
Tentatively, he slipped his fingertips under the hem of Achilles’ t-shirt, brushing against the smooth skin of his waist.
The other man gasped against his mouth, and Patroclus quickly pulled away, worried he’d gone too far. “Sorry –” he started to say, but Achilles cut him off with another heated kiss, arching his back and pressing himself closer. “Please, don’t stop,” he mumbled against Patroclus’ lips.
Well, how could Patroclus deny him? He slipped his hands fully underneath Achilles’ shirt, laying his palms flat against his back. He traced his index finger along the curve of Achilles’ spine, and felt the other man shiver above him.
And then he felt it: something hard pressed against his thigh. Patroclus’ breath caught in his throat as he tried to come to his senses. They had only been kissing – surely Achilles hadn’t gotten so worked up over a kiss, right? However, as he pulled back to look at Achilles’ face, he realized that, indeed, the other man was flushed feverishly, his pupils blown so wide there was hardly any green left in his eyes.
Before Patroclus could assess the situation further, he registered the sound of someone banging on the door. Panicking, he shoved Achilles hard, wincing as the other man fell to the floor beside the bed with a yelp.
The door flung open and there stood Diomedes, looking much too happy for someone who’d just ruined a vital moment in Patroclus’ relationship. “Yo fellas, it’s group date time!” he announced.
Patroclus felt his patience leave him. “Can’t you fucking knock?” he snapped.
Diomedes' brow furrowed in confusion. “I did?” he said. Then his eyes landed on Achilles. “Bro, what are you doing on the floor?”
“He dropped something under the bed,” Patroclus said dismissively.
“Oh,” Diomedes replied, and to Patroclus' irritation continued to linger in the doorway.
“Well? Are you going to stand there all day or will you leave us alone?” Patroclus demanded.
“Damn,” Diomedes chuckled as if this were all some joke. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
The glare Patroclus sent him in response must have finally made something click, as his grin faltered, and he stepped back into the corridor. “Filming starts in thirty minutes, man. You better cheer up before Helen gets here,” he said before closing the door behind him.
As soon as Diomedes had gone, Patroclus was scrambling out of bed, rushing to Achilles’ side.
“Fuck, Achilles, I’m so sorry –” Before he could reach for his hand, Pyrrhus jumped in front of him from where he had been observing the scene from the windowsill. He bared his teeth at Patroclus, stalking in front of Achilles protectively.
Patroclus backed off. He’d had enough experience with this cat to know better than to challenge him.
Meanwhile, Achilles had pushed himself off of the floor, turning away and wiping at his cheeks. Patroclus’ heart sank as realized the other man was crying.
“Achilles – are you alright? I’m so, so sorry, I never should have – I wasn’t thinking –” Patroclus stumbled over his words, cursing himself for his carelessness.
“I’m fine,” Achilles said, though the tremor in his voice said otherwise. He was clearly embarrassed, and hurt. “It’s not the first time you’ve pushed me away. I should’ve expected it, really.”
The words felt like a knife twisting in his chest. “Achilles…”
The other man shook his head. “You should get ready for the date,” he said, walking towards the door. Patroclus’ mind shouted at him to say something, do something to stop Achilles from leaving, but he could only stand there uselessly.
After the door had closed, Patroclus felt a sharp sting in his ankle, and looked down to see that Pyrrhus had sunk his teeth into him.
“Fuck!” he hissed, springing away from the cat. He clutched his ankle, glaring at the source of his pain. “Fuck, I guess I deserved that.”
***
Patroclus was in no mood to be on this group date. Achilles was staying behind at the resort, as he had had the one on one that week, and the incident from that morning was weighing heavily on Patroclus’ mind. He needed to be with Achilles, to apologize, to make sure he was alright.
But instead, he was stepping onto a yacht, gushing to a cameraman about how excited he was to see Helen. To his annoyance, the cameras seemed to be following him even more closely than usual today. The thought entered his head that perhaps somehow the whole film crew had found out about him and Achilles, and were waiting to capture the moment when he outed himself on screen.
He pushed the thought down. He was just being paranoid. He ordered himself a cocktail and took in the view as the yacht began to drift along Malta’s colorful coastline. He could hear the other men chatting around him and felt the eyes of the producers fixed on him, but he blocked them out, nursing his drink and considering what he would say to Achilles when he returned later.
It felt like no matter what he did, he kept hurting Achilles. How many times had he made Achilles cry now? How many more times would it take before Achilles wouldn’t forgive him anymore? He was holding Achilles’ heart in his hands, and it was fragile, breakable; he was doing his best to care for it, but somehow, he wasn’t doing enough.
“You look a bit lonely over here,” Helen said, interrupting his spiraling thoughts.
Patroclus turned to her. She was leaning against the railing beside him, smiling up at him through her lashes. “What’s on your mind, Patroclus?”
He glanced past Helen’s shoulder to where a camera was focused on them, and slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her near to him. “Honestly? I was just working up the courage to come talk to you,” he grinned.
Patroclus had been worried about how Helen would act around him now that she knew about him and Achilles, but she wasn’t treating him any differently than before. If anything, she was being more flirtatious, touching Patroclus and giggling at his every word. It confused him a bit, but he was relieved that things weren’t awkward between them. Was it possible that Achilles had misunderstood, and she didn’t know about them after all? It certainly seemed so as she leaned into his touch, resting her head on his shoulder as they looked out over the clear blue water.
Eventually, Helen was pulled into a conversation with the other men. She kissed Patroclus’ cheek as they parted and left him alone with his thoughts once again. However, he hardly had a moment to himself before he felt another presence at his side.
Paris pushed his sunglasses up into his hair, fixing Patroclus with a smirk. “I wonder what Achilles would think if he knew you were flirting with her like that. I bet he wouldn’t be too happy.”
Patroclus glared at him, indignant. “What happens between Achilles and I is none of your damn business,” he said in a hushed voice, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.
“Anything’s my business if I make it my business,” Paris shrugged, still smirking.
“Gods, don’t you have anything better to do?” Patroclus snapped. “Why don’t you go piss off Menelaus? I hear you’re quite good at that.”
Something in Paris’ expression shifted and he huffed, shaking his head. “Dio was right, you really are in a bad mood today.”
Patroclus scowled. “What? Why the fuck was he talking about me?”
Paris took a step closer, placing his hand on Patroclus’ shoulder. “Man, seriously, chill.”
Patroclus resisted the urge to push him over the side of the yacht. Paris narrowed his eyes and pointed his finger at Patroclus’ chest. “You know what I think?” he asked. “I think you need to get laid.”
At that, Patroclus really did push him away. “Fuck off.”
“I’m serious,” Paris went on, undeterred. “Don’t you think he wants it too?”
“Fuck. Off.”
“Just something to think about. Might help release some of that tension,” Paris winked, patting his shoulder once more before wandering off.
***
The men returned to the resort in the late afternoon. Patroclus headed straight for their bedroom. He still hadn’t worked out what he was going to say to Achilles, but he knew that he needed to see him. However, when he entered the room he was met only with Pyrrhus, who glared at him from where he was perched near the window. Achilles was nowhere to be seen. With a twinge of concern, Patroclus closed the door and began searching the resort for anywhere the other man could have gone. After checking the kitchen and common room, he made his way outside, walking along the path that led to the beach. Along the way he noticed some purple flowers that he thought Achilles would like, and gathered a small bouquet of them.
He had almost reached the water when he finally spotted him. Achilles was jogging along the shore, barefoot, in only a pair of little red running shorts and his hair pushed back by a headband. Just the sight of him, safe and well, filled Patroclus with relief. Achilles’ eyes landed on him and he slowed his pace before coming to a stop in front of him.
He was already reaching for the flowers, eyes lighting up. “Are these for me?”
A mix of emotions filled Patroclus’ chest as he handed him the bouquet. “Of course,” he said softly. “Always for you.”
Achilles looked at him, and then down at the flowers again nervously. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
“Achilles, I’m so sorry about this morning,” he blurted out.
Achilles nodded, waiting for him to go on.
Patroclus took a deep breath, choosing his words. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you, keeping our relationship a secret. It hasn’t been easy for me either. At the same time, I don’t think I’m ready for it to not be a secret. Not yet, at least.”
Achilles nodded again. “I know,” he said quietly. “I told you I would be patient with you, and I’m trying. I’m really trying, it’s just, sometimes it… it feels like you’re ashamed of me.”
Patroclus’ heart shattered seeing how vulnerable he looked, the way his lip trembled, and his voice broke on the last word. He closed the space between them, pulling Achilles against his chest and hugging him tightly. “No, sweetheart,” he whispered. Gods, how could he convey to Achilles how wrong he was?
He held him. He kissed his temple and ran his hand soothingly through his hair. For once, he didn’t care that they were out in the open, that anyone could wander down to the beach and see them there. His boyfriend needed his comfort, and he would give it to him.
“I don’t want you to ever feel that way,” he told him. “It’s not you, Achilles, it’s never you. It – it’s myself that I’m ashamed of, somehow.” He frowned to himself, wishing he were better with words. “You’re the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that?”
That earned a small, hint of a smile from Achilles. “I am?”
“You are,” he grinned.
He brought his mouth close to Achilles’ ear. “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered, and kissed Achilles’ neck until he giggled, squirming away. “Patroclus!”
They simply looked at each other for a moment, understanding and relief visible in both their expressions. Then Patroclus cleared his throat, taking Achilles’ hand in his and tracing his thumb over his knuckles. “You know,” he said, “before we were interrupted this morning, I would’ve liked to… to take things further.”
Achilles flushed deeply, his eyes widening with surprise. “Oh! I, um, I would’ve liked that too,” he mumbled shyly.
Patroclus smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “Maybe… we could go back to our room and continue where we left off?” he suggested.
Achilles nodded, blushing hard. “I would like that very much.”
Before they could put their plans into action, they were stopped once again by Diomedes, who stood in the entryway of the resort as if awaiting their return.
“Hey, I’ve been looking all over for you two!” he grinned. “All of us are about to go hang out in the hot tub. You guys in?”
Patroclus had to stop himself from groaning in despair. How had he been so foolish as to think he’d actually get a moment alone with Achilles? It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew it would look suspicious if they turned down the invitation. He glanced at Achilles, who looked equally disappointed, then nodded his head. “Yeah, we’re in.”
“We’ll only stay for a little while,” he told Achilles after they had changed into their swim trunks and were headed towards the patio. “Just until everyone is drunk enough that they won’t notice us leave.”
Achilles grumbled something in response, clearly unhappy with the decision.
Most of the other men were already sitting in the hot tub when they arrived, taking up almost all the available space. “My dudes! You made it!” Diomedes cheered when he saw them, raising his glass in the air and spilling some of his drink into the water. “Come in, come in, sorry it’s a bit full,” he laughed.
“Achilles!” Paris called out. He was leaning against the edge of the hot tub, an annoying smirk on his lips. “C’mere, you can sit on my lap,” he winked.
Patroclus shot him a look of ice. “No,” he gritted out, grabbing onto Achilles’ arm. “He’ll sit on mine.”
Paris shrugged, having gotten the reaction he wanted, obviously. “Suit yourself.”
Patroclus ignored him, pulling a blushing and flustered Achilles over to the last empty place in the hot tub between Ajax and Antilochus.
Patroclus stepped into the water first, sitting down and then nodding for Achilles to join him. Achilles hesitated, glancing around at the other men and then back at Patroclus, as if asking whether he was sure.
“Come here,” Patroclus assured him.
The men were drinking and talking all around them, too caught up in themselves to notice anything strange between the two of them. Achilles settled onto his lap, and Patroclus placed his hands on Achilles’ thighs underneath the water, where no one could see. A smile tugged at his lips as he felt Achilles’ hands rest on top of his own, their fingers lacing together.
They chatted with Ajax and some of the others, though after a while he could sense that Achilles was getting restless. He wouldn’t sit still, shifting and squirming around in Patroclus’ lap. And, well, all that moving about, along with the warm, bubbly water, was having an effect on Patroclus, to say the least. He cursed under his breath as Achilles rolled his hips, ass bouncing against his crotch.
He gripped tightly onto the front of Achilles’ thighs and leaned forward, bringing his mouth close to the other man’s ear. “If you don’t stop that, we’re going to have a problem,” he whispered.
He felt Achilles shiver under his touch. He turned his head just enough so Patroclus could see the feigned innocence on his face. “What, this?” he asked, moving his hips again.
“Fuck,” Patroclus bit his lip to keep from moaning, then pinched Achilles’ thigh. “You naughty little thing,” he muttered into his ear.
“Hey, Pat?” It was only then that he realized Antilochus was staring at him with concern. “Are you alright, man? You look kinda red.”
Patroclus felt his face heat up even more with mortification. “I’m good!” he managed to say. “I just, uh, need the bathroom!”
He felt Achilles shaking with silent laughter, and he leaned in again to whisper to him. “I need you back in our room, now.”
They both climbed out of the water, Achilles mentioning that he needed to use the bathroom too, actually. Patroclus adjusted his swim trunks in an attempt to hide the tent in them, and they rushed back inside as quickly as they could.
Achilles had his hand over his mouth, giggling with delight as Patroclus practically dragged him by the wrist back to their room. The second the door was closed behind them, Patroclus was pushing him against it, kissing him senselessly. His hands fell to Achilles’ hips, squeezing him over the slick wet fabric of his swim trunks.
“You love to tease me, don’t you?” he murmured, trailing kisses along the curve of Achilles’ jaw.
Achilles gasped, tilting his head to give Patroclus better access.
When Patroclus pulled back to look at him, he was met with a vision: Achilles’ cheeks and lips were flushed, his blond curls damp and clinging to his forehead, a sheen of sweat covering his fair skin. “Baby,” he said, smoothing his thumb over Achilles’ cheek. “I… I was sort of thinking you would take the lead here.”
Achilles’ eyes widened. “O – oh!”
“I mean, you don’t have to!” Patroclus hurried. “It’s just… I’ve never done this with a guy before, you know that.”
Achilles nodded. “Right, um, yeah, I know.”
“And you… you have, right?” Patroclus asked slowly.
Achilles seemed so comfortable with his sexuality, Patroclus figured he must have had experiences with other men. He’d never thought about it too closely, as the thought of anyone else with Achilles left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, but he’d always assumed it to be true.
But now Achilles was hesitant, his face flushed with embarrassment. “Well, um.”
Patroclus brought his hand to Achilles’ chin and gently lifted it, so the other man would meet his eye. “Achilles… have you had sex before?”
He hadn’t thought it possible, but Achilles blushed even harder, and finally shook his head.
Patroclus’ eyes widened. “Oh.” He felt somehow both relieved and overwhelmed by this information. Of course, he hadn’t liked the thought of Achilles having been with another man, but the rational part of his brain was telling him that this meant neither of them had a clue what they were doing.
However, his attention was swiftly brought back to the man before him, whose brow was knitted with worry, as if awaiting Patroclus’ judgement. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s alright.” Patroclus pulled him into an embrace, kissing his flushed cheek. “We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”
Achilles nodded shyly, relief visible in his eyes, and Patroclus swore he would do anything and everything to take care of him, to make him feel beautiful and desired.
“Shall we take this to the bed?” he asked.
Achilles laid down on his back, his golden hair splayed out on the pillow, Patroclus hovering over him. They kissed deeply, slowly, at first. Patroclus brought his hand to Achilles’ chest and rubbed his thumb over his nipple, causing the other man to gasp into his mouth and arch his back off the mattress.
“Tell me what feels good, alright?” Patroclus murmured, moving his thumb in small, gentle circles.
“Ah – that – that feels good,” Achilles gasped, gripping the bedsheets between his fists and gazing up at Patroclus through glassy eyes.
Patroclus felt a fond smile tug at his lips. If Achilles was so sensitive, getting all worked up over such a small touch, he could hardly imagine what it would be like to actually make love to him. His head spun with the possibilities.
He continued to give attention to Achilles’ chest until he had the other man squirming and whining beneath him, and then he went back to kissing him. Achilles spread his legs, and Patroclus settled between them. Slowly, he started to move his hips, and was met with waves of pleasure as his length brushed against Achilles’, both of them moaning against the other’s lips. They soon found a rhythm, Achilles lifting his hips in time to match Patroclus’ thrusts. However, Patroclus was aching for more, the friction against his wet swim trunks beginning to grow uncomfortable.
He paused his movements and placed his hand on the waistband of Achilles’ swim trunks. “Can I take these off?” he asked, surprised at how breathless he sounded.
Achilles nodded, his eyes squeezed shut and a deep flush spreading across his chest.
Patroclus’ brows furrowed in concern. He brought his other hand to Achilles’ face, cupping his cheek. “Hey, talk to me, baby. Are you doing alright?”
Achilles opened his eyes slowly, then nodded again. “Yes, please, Patroclus,” he whimpered.
“Alright,” Patroclus kissed him tenderly, then began peeling off his swim trunks, the wet fabric clinging to his thighs. Achilles lifted his hips off the bed to help him, and when they were fully off, Patroclus had to stop for a moment and stare.
“Gods, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed out. If Patroclus had been holding onto any doubt that he was attracted to men, it was blown out the window at the sight of Achilles laid out beneath him, hard and leaking. Achilles was simply perfect, from his blushing chest, to the soft curves of his thighs, to the swollen length resting against his belly. He must have been crafted by the gods.
Patroclus took no time in removing his own swim trunks. He tossed them aside, then settled on top of Achilles once again. He nuzzled his nose against Achilles’ neck, breathing in the sweet scent of him. “May I touch you?’ he asked.
“ Please, ” Achilles repeated, tangling his hands in Patroclus’ hair and hooking one leg over his waist.
“Please what, baby?” Patroclus grinned against his neck.
Achilles let out a frustrated huff, pushing his hips up towards him desperately. “Please, I – I need you to touch me, Patroclus,” he whined.
“Alright, then,” Patroclus reached between them and took both their lengths in his hand. It took only a few strokes before Achilles was gasping, tears in his eyes. Patroclus couldn’t deny that he was getting close to his climax as well, the feeling of Achilles’ cock against his unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.
“Patroclus, I – I –”
“What is it, baby?” Patroclus asked softly. The other man looked almost delirious, his expression twisted with pleasure.
“I love you,” he said, and spilled into Patroclus’ hand.
Notes:
**pyrrhus watching awkwardly from the corner of the room**
Chapter 18
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Achilles woke up feeling cold. The warmth of Patroclus’ arms around him was gone, and as he blinked his eyes open, he confirmed that the space beside him in bed was empty. His heart sank. He sat up, pulling the blankets around his shoulders, goosebumps trailing up his bare arms and legs.
It came back to him like a stab to his heart. What he had done. How he had ruined everything.
If there was one moment that would be forever burned into Achilles’ mind, it would be last night, when he’d told Patroclus he loved him and the other man hadn’t said it back.
He was sure it would haunt him forever: the way Patroclus had stared at him, lips parted in surprise, while Achilles came into his hand. And then, how Patroclus’ expression had become closed, distant. How he’d carried on as if nothing had happened. He’d gotten out of bed, fetching a washcloth from the bathroom and cleaning the mess from Achilles’ belly. He’d asked if he was alright, offered to bring a glass of water. He’d been the perfect gentleman, like he always was, while pointedly ignoring the fact that Achilles had just laid open his heart for him and confessed the words that had been blooming inside him for weeks.
And now, Patroclus was gone. The bed was empty, Achilles was alone, and he’d given away the most intimate part of himself to a man who didn’t love him back.
He took a shuddering breath, tears blurring his vision as he thought of how Patroclus had touched him, how no one had made him feel like that before. He wrapped his arms around himself, tightness twisting in his chest. It was all too much.
And then the door opened, and he blinked rapidly, his eyes darting up to see Patroclus in the doorway.
Patroclus. He was there. He didn’t leave. He was wearing a sweater and pyjama pants, his dark hair disheveled. In his arms he carried a plate of pastries and two mugs of coffee. His eyes widened when they landed on Achilles, and he hurried towards him, setting the dishes down on the nightstand and sitting beside him on the bed.
“Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong? I’m here.” Patroclus gathered him in his arms, rubbing circles onto his back.
Achilles couldn’t help the soft sob that escaped him. He was still Patroclus’ sweetheart. He didn’t leave him. He clung to Patroclus like a child, gathering the front of his sweater in his fists.
“I – I woke up and you were – weren’t here,” Achilles managed to say through his tears. “I – I thought you had left.”
Patroclus’ brow furrowed. He cupped Achilles’ cheek, wiping tears with his thumb. “Achilles,” he said softly. “Honey, why would I leave? I just went to get us some breakfast. Everything’s okay.”
Achilles sniffled, feeling suddenly ridiculous for getting so upset. Why would Patroclus leave? Because you don’t love me, he thought. But he couldn’t say that. He wouldn’t ever bring up that subject with Patroclus again. It was too humiliating.
“I’m sorry,” he said instead. “I just got scared for a minute. I don’t know why I’m so emotional today.”
Patroclus studied him with concern, but eventually nodded. He pulled Achilles against his chest and kissed his temple. “It’s okay,” he repeated. “I’m here.”
Achilles could only melt into the touch, Patroclus’ presence bringing him such immense comfort. With an ache, he was reminded how true the words he had spoken last night were. Yes, he had said them while in the throes of passion, but they were as real and alive in his heart as ever. He loved Patroclus. He needed him. He loved his gentleness, his kindness, how he knew how to hold Achilles, and what words to tell him when he felt most broken. No one had ever made him feel like Patroclus did, and he was certain no one ever could.
Wordlessly, Patroclus handed him one of the mugs of coffee, prepared with oatmilk and sugar just how Achilles liked it, and took the black one for himself. He settled back against the headboard, keeping his arm wrapped around Achilles’ shoulders.
They drank their coffee and nibbled at the pastries in comfortable silence, until Patroclus turned to him and asked, “How are you feeling about last night?”
Achilles startled, nearly choking on his coffee. How was he supposed to answer that? Rejected? Heartbroken?
“I mean, it was your first time having sex,” Patroclus clarified. “It’s normal to feel a bit… overwhelmed.”
Oh. He wasn’t even talking about Achilles’ confession. Of course.
“It… it was perfect,” Achilles said. Until I ruined it . “I really enjoyed it. I hope you did too,” he added, taking a sip of coffee to hide his blush.
Patroclus gave him his soft smile, the one that always sent butterflies to his tummy. “Of course I did,” he assured. He brought his mouth close to Achilles’ ear, making him shiver. “I think we should do it more often, in fact,” he murmured, kissing Achilles’ cheek.
Achilles’ face felt warm, his heart flipping in his chest. “I – I think that’s a wonderful idea,” he said.
They spent the remainder of the morning occupied with cuddles and lazy kisses, and Achilles’ worries about the night before began to fade under the warmth of Patroclus' lips. After a while, Patroclus yawned, stretching his arms above his head. Achilles definitely didn’t stare at the strip of skin that was revealed as his sweater rode up. “I think I’ll take a shower,” Patroclus said casually. “We have the cocktail party in a few hours.”
“Oh,” Achilles replied. He’d almost forgotten about that. “Yeah, I guess I should take one too.”
“Do you want to go first?” Patroclus asked.
“No, it’s okay, you can go first,” Achilles said
Patroclus looked hesitant. They were clearly both thinking the same thing but too shy to say it. Patroclus’ cheeks darkened just a bit. He cleared his throat. “We – we could shower together, if you’d like. I mean – no pressure though. If you don’t want to that’s also fine –”
Achilles pressed his lips against Patroclus’, fingers tangling in his hair. “I want to,” he smiled.
They climbed out of bed, Achilles blushing as he lifted the blankets from himself, still naked from last night. He felt Patroclus’ gaze on his body, making him hot and flustered.
He watched in awe as Patroclus took his sweater off in one sweeping motion, and then stepped out of his pyjama pants, revealing nothing underneath. Patroclus’ skin was a beautiful dark bronze, with dark hair covering his chest and trailing down to his crotch. He was strong, and broad, the muscles in his back shifting as he turned around to walk towards the bathroom. Achilles trailed after him, willing himself not to start drooling like a dog.
Patroclus turned on the water, holding his hand under the stream until he deemed it a suitable temperature, then motioned for Achilles to step inside. The water was pleasantly warm against his skin, steam beginning to fill the room. Patroclus stepped in after him; the shower stall wasn’t large, and Patroclus’ closeness sent tingles down Achilles’ spine.
Patroclus placed his hands on Achilles’ waist, steadying him, and leaned in close so that their noses touched. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and Achilles thought his knees would give out beneath him. If it weren’t for Patroclus’ hands holding him up, he would have been a puddle on the floor.
“Kiss me, please,” he said breathlessly.
Patroclus leaned in, slow and gentle. Patroclus’ kisses always made Achilles feel so special, like he was something to be cherished. He threw his arms around Patroclus’ shoulders, pressing their chests flush together.
Patroclus’ hands slid from his waist to his ass, and Achilles moaned, arching his back.
“You are so fucking hot,” Patroclus murmured, voice low and rough in his ear, as he began to knead his ass cheeks in his hands. Achilles could only cling to him, breaths coming in small gasps as Patroclus touched him. He pressed himself closer, grinding against Patroclus, aching for more.
Then one of Patroclus’ hands came between them and took both of their lengths like he’d done last night. A whimper escaped Achilles’ lips as Patroclus’ hand began to work expertly, gliding over them both. This time, Achilles placed his own hand over Patroclus’ and joined him. Patroclus gasped softly. “Oh, fuck, baby, that feels good.”
Just like the first time, it didn’t take long before Achilles was spilling into both their hands. He let out a muffled cry against Patroclus’ shoulder, his legs trembling. He was so overwhelmed with pleasure, he couldn’t even feel embarrassed about coming undone so quickly. Especially not when Patroclus was gazing at him devotedly, telling him again and again how gorgeous he was.
However, he wanted to make Patroclus feel good too. So, he wrapped his hand around Patroclus’ length again. He touched him like he would himself, perhaps a bit too fast and eager compared to Patroclus’ steady pace, but the other man seemed to enjoy it well enough. He gripped hard onto Achilles’ ass and threw his head back, his mouth open in pleasure. Patroclus looked divine like this, his eyes dark with arousal, his broad chest heaving, his lips red and swollen from kissing. Achilles wished to be devoured by him. And when he came into Achilles’ hand he was so beautiful that Achilles felt his knees go weak once more.
Afterwards, Patroclus pulled him into a deep kiss, then murmured against his lips, “Let me wash you.”
Patroclus’ hands moved over his body with such care that he felt himself become emotional again. Patroclus started with his chest, running a warm, soapy washcloth over Achilles’ sensitive nipples, his belly, his hips, smoothing across his back. He knelt down to wash Achilles’ most intimate parts, gazing up at him so softly Achilles thought his heart would burst. He held Achilles’ hand as he lifted one foot, tenderly washing over his sole and between each toe.
“Everything okay?” Patroclus asked softly, a small crease between his brows, standing up and taking Achilles’ face in his hands.
Achilles nodded, blinking back the tears from his eyes for the second time that day. “Mhm. It’s just – no one’s ever taken care of me like that.”
Patroclus’ face softened. He pulled Achilles into his arms. “You deserve to be taken care of, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Can I wash your hair?”
Achilles nodded, and Patroclus turned him around. He moaned softly as Patroclus worked the shampoo into his hair, gently massaging.
Patroclus allowed Achilles to wash him as well, staring at him tenderly all the while. Achilles savored the moment, treasuring every inch of Patroclus’ skin under his hands, and the thick, dark, curls atop his head.
***
As the filming of the cocktail party began, Achilles was feeling clingy, and a bit anxious. His recent intimacy with Patroclus had left its mark on him. He was aching for Patroclus to touch him, to be near him. He allowed his fingers to brush against Patroclus’ one last time as they stepped into the hall together. “I wish I could hold your hand,” he whispered.
There was something like sorrow, or pity, in Patroclus’ eyes. “It’ll only be a few hours,” was all he said.
Patroclus walked into the party, and Achilles followed after him, not wanting to be far from his side. However, the other man turned around, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Achilles looked up at him, confused. “You have to give me a little space, sweetheart,” Patroclus whispered. “Why don’t you go talk to Paris for a while?”
Achilles’ heart stung with betrayal. “Oh, sure,” he whispered back angrily. “I thought you hated Paris, but now you want me to go talk to him? You just want to get rid of me, don’t you?”
Patroclus sighed, pinching his brow. “Achilles, you know how it’ll look if we’re together the entire night.” He removed his hand from Achilles’ shoulder, stepping back. “We’ll talk later, alright?” he said, before turning and walking away.
Achilles stared in disbelief as Patroclus joined the other men, smiling and mingling as if nothing had happened. Hurt and angry, he stalked over to the bar and got himself a glass of champagne, then took it to one of the sofas and sat down, pouting.
He sipped his champagne, feeling sorry for himself as he watched the party play out before him. Admittedly, it was an important evening. Tonight’s rose ceremony would determine the final eight men who would travel back to Greece. After that, there were only two weeks remaining: the hometowns and the finale. Achilles needn’t worry about the rose ceremony, since he already had his rose from his one on one with Helen earlier that week. Similarly, Diomedes had earned the group date rose. But for the rest of the men, it was up in the air, so they were putting in their best effort to woo Helen tonight.
Of course, it would seem suspicious if Patroclus didn’t do the same. Achilles watched as he leaned over her, his hand on her upper arm, smiling. His hand trailed upwards, over her shoulder, then traced over the delicate necklace she wore, dangerously close to her cleavage.
Achilles seethed, gripping his glass so tightly it was a surprise it didn’t shatter.
“Well, well, well,” Paris grinned, flopping down beside him and pinching Achilles’ cheek. “What’s got you all grumpy, hm? Come on, talk to your best buddy.”
Achilles swatted his hand away, not bothering to turn his head.
Paris followed his gaze and sighed. “Ah, I see.”
Achilles' jaw clenched, somehow unable to tear his eyes away from the sight. There was the man he loved, practically groping another woman.
Eventually, he turned to Paris. “He’s my boyfriend now,” he said bitterly.
Paris gave an encouraging smile. “Made it official, did’ya?”
Achilles nodded, tightness building in his chest. “Yeah. We did. And now he’s – he’s flirting with her right in front of me.” His voice cracked, and he took a deep breath. He couldn’t start crying on camera. “And Helen – she knows about us,” he continued. “Why would they do that?”
“Oh, man,” Paris sighed. “You’re breaking my heart, buddy, come here.” He pulled Achilles into a hug, and Achilles let him, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to control his breathing. He tried to distract himself, focusing on the scent of Paris’ too-strong cologne, and the way his soft hair tickled his face.
When they pulled away, Paris looked at him apprehensively. “There’s something you should know, I think,” he said.
Achilles frowned. “What?”
“Well, it’s just a rumor, I mean, don’t take it to heart, you know?”
Achilles’ heart sped up. “What is it?” he demanded.
Paris sighed, but Achilles could tell he was enjoying himself. He knew the other man lived for spreading gossip. “Well, I’ve heard that Aphrodite wants to make Patroclus the next Bachelor,” he finally said.
Achilles’ heart dropped, a sick feeling pooling in his stomach. His brain couldn’t comprehend the words. “What?”
“Like I said, just a rumor. But I mean, that would explain why he and Helen are putting on such a show,” Paris said, nodding to them. “And why the cameras can’t get enough of him this week.”
“But… but why Patroclus?” Achilles said brokenly.
“See if I know. Apparently, the producers think he’ll be an audience favorite, you know, with his whole doctor puppy dog eyes vibe. Aphrodite probably wants to keep him on until the finale, to really build up his image and his chemistry with Helen before she sends him home. You’ve seen this show, you know how it works.” Paris shrugged. “I mean, I can’t blame him for agreeing to it. The money, the women. Not to mention he’d be the most famous man in Greece.”
Achilles really did feel sick. This must have been a mistake. Patroclus wouldn’t have – He couldn’t have agreed to this –
“Where did you hear this rumor?” he choked out.
Paris’ expression shifted. “I have sources,” he said cryptically.
Achilles glared at him. “Paris, this is about my boyfriend. Tell me where you heard it.”
Paris sighed. “Gods, fine, from Menelaus, okay? He overheard some of the producers talking.”
Achilles narrowed his eyes. “Since when are you and Menelaus telling each other secrets?”
Paris rolled his eyes. “We’re not telling each other secrets. It was a simple exchange of information.”
Achilles shook his head. “No, really, you’ve been acting strange lately. You haven’t complained about him in a while. You haven’t even started any unnecessary fights with him.” A thought suddenly crossed Achilles’ mind… it seemed absurd, surely, but he had to ask. “Are you two, like, you know…?”
“Are we what?” Paris asked, looking genuinely confused.
“Are you fucking?” Achilles whispered.
Paris nearly choked on his drink, his face twisting into a grimace. “Oh my gods!” he exclaimed. “Gods, no! What the fuck!”
“Well, it was just a question!” Achilles said defensively.
“Gods, never, ever. Please. That’s fucking disgusting.”
Achilles started to protest, but Paris cut him off with a dismissive wave of the hand. “No, I don’t mean disgusting because we’re both guys, I mean because it’s him. I’m not insulting your culture, calm down.”
Achilles huffed. “Well, fine, then what’s really going on between you two?”
Paris was silent for a long moment. Achilles studied him, noticing with surprise that he looked a bit older, somehow. More tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, covered up with make-up for the show.
When Paris finally turned to him, his expression was more serious than Achilles had ever seen it. “This stays between us, alright?”
Achilles nodded. “Yeah, alright.”
“No, I’m serious,” Paris said, “You can’t tell anyone, not even your boy toy, understand? You have to swear it on your life.”
Achilles frowned. “Alright, sure, I swear I won’t tell anyone. What is it?”
Paris took a deep breath, searching his eyes, then said: “The reason I’ve been spending so much time with Menelaus is, he might be the father of Helen’s baby.”
Notes:
the drama continues :D
Chapter 19
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Let me get this straight,” said Patroclus, glancing around the room in bewilderment.
His eyes landed on Helen. “She’s pregnant?”
He gestured to Menelaus and Paris, who sat on either side of her. “And either one of them could be the father?”
He pointed to himself. “And you want me to be the next Bachelor?”
Aphrodite gave him a dazzling smile, leaning forward and clasping her hands atop the conference table. “That’s right, Patroclus. I’m so glad we’re all on the same page now.”
She turned to Helen, still smiling. “Well, darling, what do you think of your final three? I’d say we’ve outdone ourselves this season.”
“Now, hold on a minute,” Patroclus interrupted. “I’m sorry, but, well – no. I won’t do it.”
Aphrodite's smile remained plastered on her face, but her eyes took on a menacing glint. “Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear. This is the plan, whether you like it or not.”
Patroclus bristled. “There’s nothing in my contract that says I have to agree to this,” he argued. He’d signed a lot of paperwork before coming on this show, but surely, he hadn’t signed away all of his rights.
“Your contract doesn’t matter now, dear,” Aphrodite returned. “If you don’t do as I say, I will expose you for how you’ve really spent your time on this show.”
Patroclus’ face fell, which only seemed to encourage her, her smile widening.
“Don’t look so surprised,” she said. “You thought I didn’t know? Didn’t you realize your hotel rooms have been wired with cameras and microphones this whole time? It is a show about love, after all. Some of our best scenes are captured in the bedroom,” she grinned.
Patroclus felt short of breath, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest.
Everything he’d done with Achilles – the moments he’d thought had been between the two of them only – it had all been filmed?
“Oh, but not to worry, my dear,” Aphrodite said soothingly, surely seeing the panic dawn on his face.
“I’m giving you the chance to put all of that behind you. Follow my lead, and no one outside of this production team ever will ever have to know. Think about it, Patroclus. Wouldn’t you like to be known as the sexiest, most charming man in Greece, who has his choice of thirty beautiful women?” She paused, letting the words sink in.
“Or would you rather the world finds out the truth? That you really don’t like women at all. That you came on this show with false intentions, and that you fooled poor, sweet Helen and slept around with some blond himbo instead.”
“Don’t talk about Achilles like that,” Patroclus snapped, surprised at the strength of his own voice.
“I’m only putting things into perspective for you,” Aphrodite smiled, leaning back in her chair. “I know he’s pretty, darling. That’s why our casting team chose him. But is he really worth your reputation?”
Until now, the other three hadn’t said a word, but had bore silent witness to Patroclus’ humiliation. But now Helen cleared her throat. “Patroclus,” she said softly. “I know you don’t want to do this, but if you don’t, well – it could ruin you. You and Achilles both. At least take some time to think it over.”
Patroclus met Helen’s eyes, understanding passing between them. It was clear that she had as little say in this decision as he did. At her side, Menelaus offered him a look of sympathy, while Paris lounged with one leg crossed over the other, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world.
There was silence, and then Aphrodite clapped her hands together, smiling. “It looks like we’ve all come to an agreement, then. Wonderful. Let’s review the plan, shall we?”
She nodded to one of her assistants to begin taking notes.
“At the end of the coming week the remaining men apart from Patroclus, Menelaus, and Paris will be sent home. The week after that will be hometowns, along with the pregnancy reveal and announcing the three possible fathers –”
“Three?” Paris interjected, raising an eyebrow.
Aphrodite nodded. “Three. It’s just more fun with three, isn’t it? Of course, we know only the two of you are true possibilities, but it’ll make the whole thing much more exciting if the audience thinks Patroclus is a possible father as well.”
Patroclus clenched his fists underneath the table, helpless and angry.
“Patroclus will be sent home after hometowns, and Menelaus and Paris will go on to the finale. We’ll reveal the paternity test – we may have to delay filming a few weeks for that, I suppose. How far along are you again, darling?”
“Six weeks,” Helen said quietly.
Aphrodite nodded. “Hm. Right. We’ll reveal the paternity test as soon as we can get one, and whoever the true father is will be Helen’s winner.”
Everyone nodded solemnly in response. It was only then that Patroclus fully realized, none of them had a choice in any of this. Even the decision of who Helen would get engaged to would fall into Aphrodite’s hands.
He looked at Helen again, her face lowered and her hands resting on her still flat stomach, and he felt more hopeless than ever.
***
When Patroclus returned to his bedroom, he found Achilles asleep on the bed with Pyrrhus curled at his feet. He immediately felt some of the tension leave his shoulders, his features softening at the sight of his sweet boyfriend. Achilles’ shoes were strewn on the floor next to the bed, and he was still wearing his suit from the cocktail party. He must have been waiting up for Patroclus to return.
Quietly, Patroclus took off his own shoes and suit jacket and set them aside before sitting down beside Achilles. Up close, he noticed the other man’s cheeks were splotched with red, and the skin around his eyes a bit swollen. Had he been crying? Patroclus’ mouth turned down in concern. He traced his thumb gently along the line of Achilles’ cheekbone, then over the bridge of his nose.
“Please, don’t hate me for all this,” he whispered.
Beneath him, Achilles began to stir, parting his lips, leaning his face into Patroclus’ touch. “Mm,” he mumbled, nuzzling his soft cheek against Patroclus’ palm.
His eyes blinked open, unfocused at first, then widened as they landed on Patroclus. He sat up quickly, clambering into Patroclus’ lap and throwing his arms around his neck.
“Patroclus.”
Patroclus’ heart swelled almost painfully. He held Achilles close, the weight of him warm and heavy in his lap. “Hi, honey,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Achilles pressed their noses together the way he always liked to. His green eyes were bright and intense, no trace of sleepiness left in them. “Where were you?” he insisted.
“I –” Patroclus paused, faltering. “They needed to refilm one of my scenes from the cocktail party.”
Achilles’ brows knitted together, and Patroclus reached to smooth away the crease with his thumb. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
He didn’t want to lie to Achilles, but he couldn’t tell him the truth, either. He could see how the show’s demands had been weighing on Achilles lately. He was anxious; he needed constant reassurance, and he didn’t like to be left alone. Patroclus was sure that if he found out about Aphrodite’s plans it would only upset him further.
Eventually, Achilles nodded, his face relaxing.
Patroclus hugged him again, then pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “Come on, sleepyhead, let’s get ready for bed.”
They changed into their pyjamas. Patroclus brushed his teeth and shaved, then leaned against the bathroom counter while Achilles went through his nighttime routine. As he stood there, watching Achilles lather moisturizing cream onto his face and listening to him chatter about a trick he had taught Pyrrhus earlier that day, Patroclus knew that this was all he ever wanted. He wanted every evening, every morning, every day with Achilles, for as long as he would have him.
He just needed to figure out how to get them both out of there without causing a televised scandal.
***
By the following afternoon they were back in Greece, once again in the comfort and glamour of the Bachelorette Mansion.
“This may be the most important group date in your Bachelorette journey thus far,” Aphrodite addressed the men, who were gathered round a small amphitheatre overlooking the beach.
“At the end of this week, Helen will choose the final three contestants who will accompany her to visit her hometown, be introduced to her family, and possibly move forward to the finale. Therefore, your task today is to prove to Helen why you should be invited to the final stages of this competition. Each of you will prepare a speech to be performed in front of Helen and your fellow contestants, letting her know your true feelings and what you can offer her in a marriage. This may be your final chance to win her heart, so make it count!”
Diomedes let out a whoop of enthusiasm, and the other men followed along. They were a small group now, only eight of them remaining since Podalirius, Machaeon, Teucer and Little Ajax had been sent home at the last rose ceremony.
Patroclus felt Achilles’ hand curl anxiously around his own. Achilles was leaning against his side, their thighs pressed together, blonde curls tickling his neck. Patroclus knew that they shouldn’t be touching like this during filming, but he simply didn’t have the heart to keep pushing his boyfriend away when he clearly needed comfort.
He squeezed Achilles’ hand in return and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “You’ll do fine. You’ve always been good with words.”
It was the truth. While Achilles could be shy when it was just the two of them, in public he was charming and eloquent. If either of them should have been nervous about public speaking, it was Patroclus. Nevertheless, Achilles appeared as if something were bothering him, worrying his bottom lip and digging his nails into Patroclus’ hand.
Meanwhile, Paris was pushing himself onto the stage before them, having volunteered to go first. He approached Helen, who sat center stage wearing a long yellow sundress.
“Helen,” Paris began, reaching to hold one of her hands as he spoke. “My angel, my love, my life. Anyone can see that we were made for each other…”
Patroclus rolled his eyes, and nudged Achilles with his elbow. “See? Anyone could do better than this nonsense.”
Achilles huffed a laugh and glanced up at him with a small smile that made Patroclus’ heart swell. “He is pretty cringe, isn’t he?” he whispered.
Patroclus hummed in agreement.
Paris’ speech was as dramatic and long-winded as Patroclus would have expected from him, and ended with an uncomfortably long make out session there on the stage for all to see.
Menelaus went next, blushing and fumbling over his words as he addressed Helen, who gazed at him with a soft expression. He became emotional towards the end, tears glistening in his eyes as he told Helen how he looked forward to raising a family with her someday.
Next came Diomedes, who lightened the mood by foregoing words altogether and essentially giving Helen a lap dance.
Achilles leaned close to him, whispering, “Maybe I can give you a show like that later tonight,” and Patroclus felt his face grow very warm.
“Patroclus,” Aphrodite called out, startling him so that he jumped away from Achilles. “You’re next,” she announced, leveling him with a meaningful look.
Patroclus took in a sharp breath, sparing Achilles an apologetic glance before making his way towards the stage.
Before he could step in front of the camera, Aphrodite caught his arm, pulling him aside.
“I want this to be a dramatic moment for you,” she said, her hand a vice grip around his bicep. “This date is what’s going to set you out as one of Helen’s final three.”
Patroclus frowned. “What do you want me to do?” he asked, wondering whether she expected him to make a fool of himself like Paris had.
“Something very simple.” Aphrodite smiled, holding out a small device in the palm of her hand. “I want you to wear this earpiece. I’ll tell you exactly what to say, and all you have to do is repeat after me. Oh, and put some emotion into it, of course.”
Warily, Patroclus took the device from her, fitting it into his ear. It was small and inconspicuous, hardly noticeable.
“Very good,” Aphrodite said. “Just be sure that you face Helen the entire time, so it won’t be visible to the cameras.”
Helen smiled warmly at him as he stepped onto the stage, bringing him a bit of reassurance.
“Move closer to her. Take her hands,” came Aphrodite's voice, calm and clear in his ear, and Patroclus obeyed. He focused his attention on Helen, looking into her eyes and feeling her small, soft hands close around his.
“Helen,” Aphrodite spoke, and Patroclus repeated it. “Looking at you right now, I see the woman who I’ve dreamt of my whole life. Someone beautiful inside and out. Someone who is strong and confident, and who makes me want to be a better man. I am so grateful for the time that we’ve shared here together, and I know that our connection will only continue to grow stronger. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, to be your fiancé, your husband, and someday, to be the father of your children. I promise I will treat you like the queen that you are. Helen – we may not know exactly what the future holds, but I know that every day I fall more and more in love with you. You’ll make me the happiest man in the world, if you choose to continue this journey with me.”
From the corner of his eye, Patroclus saw Aphrodite nod in approval, and he let out a breath of relief. He was finished.
Helen stood up, cupping his cheek with her hand and leaning forward so the faces were close together. To the audience, Patroclus realized, it would look like they were kissing. “Well done,” she whispered, and Patroclus smiled.
However, he was distracted by a noise off stage, and, turning his head, he saw a flash of blonde hair storming away from the set.
“Fuck.” Patroclus dropped Helen’s hands, hurrying off the stage. Aphrodite said something to him in sharp tones, but he didn’t care. He pushed past the film crew, off of the set, and ran down the beach after Achilles, who was retreating at a concerningly swift pace.
“Achilles,” Patroclus called, but the other man didn’t turn around. Rather, he moved even faster, putting distance between them. “Achilles, please wait.”
Out of breath, Patroclus finally caught up to him, reaching for his hand.
Achilles yanked his hand away, but turned around to face him. Patroclus’ heart shattered at the sight of the tears streaming down his cheeks. “Leave me alone,” Achilles said brokenly.
“Sweetheart,” Patroclus ventured softly. “Will you tell me why you’re upset?”
Achilles glared at him with a mixture of hurt and contempt, his eyes both fiery and wet with incoming tears. “You know why.”
Patroclus sighed. “If this is about the speech, honey, I was acting . You know I didn’t mean it.”
Achilles shook his head, wiping his cheeks with his hand. “You told her you love her, Patroclus. How could you say that when – when you couldn’t say it to me?”
Patroclus frowned, taken off guard. “What?”
Achilles huffed in frustration, his cheeks flushing red. “The night when we – when you first touched me,” he said quietly. “I told you and… and you didn’t say it back.”
A memory flashed in Patroclus’ mind. The first time he and Achilles had been intimate. It was true – Achilles had said “I love you” that night. Patroclus had been surprised when he’d heard those words, but he’d ultimately thought nothing of it. It was Achilles’ first time, after all, and he’d been overwhelmed and insensible, muttering all sorts of sweet nothings. Patroclus hadn’t brought it up later, either, because he didn’t want to embarrass Achilles or pressure him into repeating something he hadn’t meant to say in the first place.
Now, with the realization dawning on him, Patroclus shook his head in confusion. “I didn’t think you meant it,” he admitted.
If possible, Achilles’ expression crumbled even more, hurt etched deeply into his eyes. “Right. I see.” His voice trembled, and he turned his face away, fresh tears springing to his eyes.
Patroclus cursed to himself. How was he fucking this up so badly? “Achilles, wait, no – I didn’t mean – I –”
“Just forget it,” Achilles cut him off. “I know I’m going home at the end of this week, anyway. I know all about Aphrodite’s plan for you. I knew it and still – I thought, I hoped, that maybe you would choose me at the end of this. That I would be enough for you. But I can see now that you’ve made your choice, and – and it isn’t me.”
Patroclus’ heart sank. “Achilles, that’s not true,” he pleaded. “It’s – it’s more complicated than you realize.”
“What’s so complicated?” Achilles demanded. “Either you love me, or you don’t.”
Patroclus opened his mouth, then closed it, a lump forming in his throat.
I’m trying to protect you, he wanted to say. But he knew, deep down, that even this wasn’t true.
What were Aphrodite’s threats to Achilles? Achilles was proud of who he was. He didn’t care what anyone thought of him. He wouldn’t be afraid of the world finding out about their relationship.
At the end of the day, Patroclus was only trying to protect himself.
Achilles’ jaw was set, a look of utter defeat in his eyes that Patroclus had never seen there before. “Well. That’s it, then. We’re done.”
And he walked away, leaving Patroclus to fall to his knees in the sand, a sob tearing its way from his chest.
Notes:
this is the last sad chapter, I swear <3
Chapter 20
Notes:
This is the chapter that inspired this fic! I'm very excited for you to read it :D
Chapter Text
Achilles was sure he would never know happiness again.
His head hurt. His chest hurt. His heart hurt.
Everything hurt.
He laid on his side, wrapped in a blanket and surrounded by used tissues. Pyrrhus sat next to him, occasionally licking the tears that streamed continuously down his face.
Lounging in a nearby chair, Paris watched them both with a look of mild disgust.
There was a knock at the door, and Paris heaved a sigh, pushing himself out of his seat. “Gee, I wonder who that could be.”
Achilles pulled the blanket tighter around himself, lying very still and listening as Paris walked to the door. He heard a soft, gentle murmuring, a voice he would recognize anywhere, and felt as if his heart was being torn open all over again. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips together, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
Then he heard Paris’ practiced reply, the one Achilles had told him to give, and which he’d already given several times that evening: “Yes, he’s fine. No, he doesn’t want to see you. Fuck off.”
Only when he heard the click of the door and Paris’ returning footsteps did Achilles open his eyes again.
“Was – was it him?” he asked weakly.
Paris stood before the bed with his hands on his hips, glaring down at Achilles with an expression of pure contempt. “What do you think? Yes it was fucking him.”
Achilles flinched at the harshness of his words, and Paris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Look, I know you’re heartbroken and everything, but I’m going to literally go insane if I have to answer that door again. I’ve listened to your crying for hours. I’ve given you my bed, which you’ve covered with your snotty tissues. I’ve even let that… that animal into my room! I mean, this is getting to be too much. Can’t you just get it over with and talk to him so he’ll leave me the fuck alone?”
Achilles lifted his chin stubbornly. “No. He made his choice. He doesn’t love me.” His lip trembled as he uttered the words, fresh tears gathering in his eyes.
“Not this again,” Paris groaned, wiping a hand over his face. “The man has knocked on my door twelve times in the past hour asking if you’re okay. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”
Achilles only sniffled in response, tucking his knees closer to his chest and ignoring the pointed look Paris was giving him.
“Fine,” Paris sighed. “Keep being miserable, then. I’m going to take a shower.”
Paris gathered some things from his wardrobe and went into the en suite bathroom, leaving Achilles to burrow deeper into the blankets, emotionally and physically exhausted.
However, just as he began to drift off, there was another knock at the door, and he sat up abruptly.
Patroclus.
The thought of him, standing there just on the other side of the door, made Achilles’ heart race. And now that Paris wasn’t there to answer, what would he do? Would he keep knocking? Or would he finally give up and go away? That thought – that Patroclus would give up on him – hurt most of all.
The knocking came once more, and then, to Achilles’ horror, the door handle began to turn. His eyes widened in panic. He scrubbed his hand over his tear-stained face and through his tangled hair in a futile attempt to make himself presentable.
But as the door cracked open, it wasn’t Patroclus who peered in at him.
“Paris? It’s me.”
Helen hovered in the doorway, her eyebrows lifting in surprise when she noticed Achilles. “Oh! Achilles. Oh, dear.”
She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her and hurrying towards the bed, her eyes filled with sympathy and concern. She sat down beside Achilles, seemingly unbothered by the tissues or the cat who sniffed her suspiciously.
“You look awful, honey. Tell me what’s happened,” she said, wrapping her arm around his shoulders.
For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Achilles’ tears welled up again. Helen’s arm around him was comforting, and she smelled of flowers. He couldn’t help but fall apart again, resting his head against her shoulder and crying as she carded her fingers through his hair.
“Why doesn’t he love me?” he sobbed, clinging to Helen like a child.
“Patroclus?” Helen’s brows furrowed. “Of course he loves you. What are you talking about?”
Achilles huffed. “That’s what everyone’s been telling me, except for him.”
“Everyone can see the way he looks at you,” Helen said. “Maybe he’s just too shy to tell you.”
Achilles shook his head, unconvinced. “Why would he agree to be the Bachelor, then? Why would he choose that over me?”
Helen looked thoughtful for a moment. Then, cautiously, she asked, “What if it doesn’t have to be a choice?”
Seeing the bewildered look on Achilles’ face, she continued. “I mean, yes, maybe he’ll decide to be the next Bachelor, but why should that change things between the two of you? You’ve kept your relationship a secret during the Bachelorette. Couldn’t you do the same while he’s on the Bachelor?”
Achilles considered it for a moment, but the idea left a sick feeling in his stomach.
“I don’t think I could take it,” he admitted. “Seeing him date all those women, even if I knew it wasn’t real… it would be too painful.”
“Besides,” he added, “I’m tired of being his secret. I’m tired of feeling like shit every time he drops my hand before we walk into a room or pushes me away because he’s afraid of getting caught.”
Helen nodded in understanding, giving his hand a squeeze.
At that moment, the door to the en suite opened and Paris emerged, wearing only his boxers.
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” he grinned, noticing Helen. He dropped his towel into the laundry basket and then walked to the edge of the bed, standing between her legs. “Like what you see, babe?”
Achilles wanted to gag.
“Oh, stop,” Helen shoved him away, laughing. “We’re having a serious talk here.”
Paris rolled his eyes. “I’ve had about as much serious talking with loverboy as I can take for one night.”
Helen scowled at him. “Don’t be so insensitive.”
She turned back to Achilles, giving him a tender look. “I’m here whenever you need to talk, sweetie. After the show, too. You just call me, okay?”
He nodded. “Thank you, Helen.”
She pressed his hand in hers once more, then stood up, facing Paris.
“Anyway, I just came by to say goodnight.”
Paris pulled her into a kiss, holding her close, then mumbled, “Goodnight, angel.”
Then, he knelt down, placing one hand gently on Helen’s stomach. “And, goodnight, little one.”
***
Achilles had managed to avoid Patroclus for most of the week, hiding away in Paris’ room or going for long walks by himself along the beach. However, tonight was the cocktail party, and he knew he would have to face him once again. The thought of it made him sick with nerves. Would Patroclus try to talk to him? Or had he already moved on, ready to meet the thirty gorgeous women he was soon to start dating?
“Keep it together,” Achilles told himself, squaring his shoulders in front of the mirror even as more tears welled in his eyes.
Tonight was his last night. His last cocktail party, last rose ceremony, the last time he would ever see the man he loved. At the end of the night, he would be packing his bags and leaving there alone, with a broken heart.
How could he survive, knowing he would never again see Patroclus’ easy smile, or look into his warm brown eyes, or hear the gentle timber of his voice? Perhaps he would torture himself by watching the Bachelor on television, just to get one more glimpse of him, Achilles thought bitterly.
It hurt too much to think about, so he put his attention towards choosing his outfit instead. If he had to leave, he would at least leave looking his best and show Patroclus what he would be missing.
He decided on a navy-blue suit, one of his favorites. It hugged his body in all the right places, and the color made his blonde waves – which were now just reaching his shoulders – stand out dramatically. Then, he searched through his suitcase until he found the little pink shopping bag he had kept tucked away and pulled out the black panties he had bought with Helen.
He knew now that Patroclus would never get a chance to see him in them, but he wanted to wear them tonight anyway. They made him feel sexy and confident, and he could use as much of that feeling as he could get tonight. He slipped the lacy fabric over his thighs, then stepped into his suit.
Standing in front of the mirror, he undid the first few buttons of his shirt and gave his hair one last tousle. Even if his heart was shattered and he’d spent the past twenty-four hours crying his eyes out, he was hot as hell, and he knew it. He stepped into the corridor, prepared to face whatever this evening would bring.
***
He was most certainly not prepared for this.
Patroclus was walking straight towards him, and Achilles’ heart beat frantically in his chest as he fought the urge to hide behind Paris like a child behind his mother’s skirts.
“Achilles.” Patroclus’ voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. There were deep bags under his eyes, and his shoulders slumped forward as if weighed down by a heavy load.
Seeing him look so defeated made Achilles’ heart ache, and he longed to reach out to him, but he kept his hands clenched in stubborn fists at his sides.
Patroclus’ brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth, then closed it a couple times before he finally said, “You look beautiful tonight.”
It wasn’t what Achilles had been expecting him to say. His lips parted for a moment in surprise, but then he schooled his expression, hoping not to give away how the words made his heart flutter, and how he was still so desperate for any bit of attention Patroclus was willing to give him.
“I know,” he replied coolly.
Patroclus looked as if he wanted to say something more, his face twisted as if he were struggling to find the words.
However, he didn’t speak, and after he had stood there for a long moment, Paris stepped forward, throwing his arm around Achilles’ shoulders protectively.
“Do you need something else?” Paris asked curtly.
“I… no, sorry,” Patroclus muttered, and disappointment rose painfully in Achilles’ chest.
What had he thought would happen? That Patroclus would take back what he’d said before and beg for his forgiveness? It was foolish of Achilles to have gotten his hopes up, even for a brief moment.
“Good,” Paris replied. “Come on, Achilles, I want more champagne.”
The evening passed agonizingly slowly. Achilles sat beside Paris, nursing a glass of champagne and hardly saying a word. He both wished that the night would come to an end and that it never would, because as painful as it was being in the same room as Patroclus, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
It seemed that each time he glanced up from his drink he would find Patroclus’ eyes already resting on him from across the room. Every time, Achilles would feel the heat rise to his cheeks and he would turn away quickly, but it wouldn’t stop him from looking up again and again.
“Hey,” Paris waved a hand in front of his face, “Earth to Achilles?”
Achilles started, nearly spilling champagne onto his lap. “What?”
Paris huffed dramatically. “I said, I’m going to miss you.”
“Oh.” Achilles’ eyes widened, faced with another conversation he wasn’t expecting to have today.
Paris shifted in his seat, looking uncharacteristically bashful. “You’ve been, like, my best friend here, you know? It really sucks that it didn’t work out between you and Pat, but just so you know you’re welcome to come chill with me and Helen and Paris junior any time after the show ends.”
“Paris junior?” Achilles snorted, a smile breaking onto his face for what felt like the first time in forever. “Paris, you don’t even know if it’s your kid.”
Paris shrugged. “It sounds a lot better than Menelaus junior, if you ask me.”
Achilles shook his head, still smiling. “You’re dumb,” he said. “But I’m going to miss you too.”
As the men lined up for the rose ceremony, Achilles was once again struggling to hold himself together, the emotions that he’d kept bottled up all evening threatening to spill over the surface.
Patroclus stood in the row in front of him, and Achilles stared miserably at the back of his head, at the one unruly curl which he loved so much, and at the broad, strong shoulders that made Achilles feel so safe when Patroclus held him.
He wanted to rush forward and wrap himself around Patroclus like a koala. He wanted to beg at his feet, to do anything so that he wouldn’t have to leave.
But it wouldn’t have been of any use. Patroclus didn’t want him anymore.
Tears stung his eyes as he watched Helen take her place at the front of the room, adjusting her dress and tracing her fingertips over the small golden dish which held her three red roses.
Helen looked up, and her eyes met Achilles’ for a moment. She offered him a sad smile, which he returned, and then she picked up the first rose.
“Helen. Gentleman.” Aphrodite spoke from where she stood at Helen’s side. “For some of you, tonight will mark the end of your Bachelorette journey. You will say goodbye to Helen, pack your bags, and go home. Only three of you will remain and move on to the hometown dates and the finale. As we come to the end of this Bachelorette season, tonight will be one of the most difficult decisions Helen has had to make yet.”
Aphrodite took a step back, gesturing for Helen to take the floor. “Please, let us begin.”
Helen stared down at the rose in her hand for a long moment before lifting her face and speaking in a clear, sure voice. “Menelaus.”
Menelaus stepped forward, and Helen looked up at him, holding out the rose. “Menelaus, do you accept this rose?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation, “Of course.” He allowed her to pin the rose to his lapel before kissing her deeply, then returned to his place.
Helen lifted the second rose from the dish, and after another dramatic stretch of silence she called out, “Paris.”
“Paris, do you accept this rose?”
“Hell yes,” Paris said, and kissed her.
Helen lifted the final rose, and the silence that followed was unbearable. Dread filled Achilles’ chest, and he bit his lip to keep his tears from spilling over. He, Patroclus, Diomedes, Nestor, Ajax, and Antilochus all remained, but they all knew whose name Helen was about to say.
“Patroclus.”
He stepped forward. Helen gazed up at him, searching his face, and then asked, “Patroclus, do you accept this rose?”
Silence.
The only sound Achilles could hear was the pounding of his own heartbeat.
And then, “No.”
Ripples of shock coursed through the room. Helen’s mouth fell open, and a couple of the men let out a gasp. Aphrodite's eyes burned with outrage.
Patroclus cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Helen,” he said, “but I can’t accept this rose. It’s time that I be completely honest with you, and with everyone here.”
He turned around so he was facing the men, and Achilles’ heart caught in his throat as their eyes met.
He’d never seen Patroclus cry, but now his eyes were glassy, his usual composure beginning to crumble.
Achilles could see that he was afraid. He was about to risk everything.
“I came on the Bachelorette to find love,” Patroclus said, his voice trembling just slightly. “And I found it. I found it with a sweet, beautiful, lovely man, who makes me so, so happy.”
He paused, wiping a few tears from his cheek.
“Achilles, my sweetheart, I love you. I’m sorry for all the times I made you feel like I didn’t. I love you. I know that I’ve hurt you, and you’ve already been more patient with me than I deserve, but I’m asking you to give me one more chance. Achilles, will you… will you leave here with me?”
Achilles’ feet were moving before his mind could even comprehend everything he’d heard. One moment he was standing with the other men, and the next he was crushed in Patroclus’ arms, clutching him so tightly there wasn’t an inch of space between them.
“Yes.” His voice was muffled against Patroclus’ neck, his tears coming hot and fast. “Yes.”
Patroclus cupped his face with his hands, their noses pressed together.
“I love you,” he whispered again, this time so only Achilles could hear.
Achilles closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of Patroclus’ hands on his cheeks and his breath against his lips. “I love you too.”
They kissed, slow and deep, and the salty taste of both their tears mingled on Achilles’ tongue. It didn’t matter that everyone was watching them, or that the cameras were still rolling. At that moment it felt like they were the only two people in the world.
Achilles experienced the events that followed almost as if he were in a dream. The guys and Helen all gathered around them, congratulating them and saying their goodbyes.
Aphrodite stood off to the side, stony faced. She clearly wasn’t happy about this turn of events, but she hadn’t done anything to intervene, either. And as for Achilles? He didn’t give a single fuck what she thought. She could twist their story any way she wanted to fit her agenda. As long as he had his Patroclus, it didn’t matter anymore.
Within an hour, they were seated in the back of a black SUV, their suitcases packed and Pyrrhus in his cat carrier on the seat next to them.
“I can’t believe you did that.”
Patroclus gave him a small smile, smoothing his hand over Achilles' thigh. “I can’t believe I did either.”
Achilles pressed himself closer, wrapping his arms around Patroclus’ neck and nuzzling his face against his chest. “You’re so brave,” he murmured.
Patroclus’ arms tightened around his waist, and he pressed a kiss to the top of Achilles’ head. “I should’ve done it a long time ago,” he said. “I’m sorry for making you wait so long.”
Achilles lifted his face to look into Patroclus’ eyes, which were still red-rimmed and glassy. “I would wait for you forever,” he said. He meant it. He was never, ever going to let Patroclus go.
Patroclus’ mouth covered his, and Achilles moaned shamelessly, draping one leg over his lap and deepening the kiss.
It felt like their first time all over again. Achilles couldn’t get enough of Patroclus' warm mouth against his skin, of his stubble scratching against his cheek and his hands tugging at his hair.
“I can’t wait to get you out of this suit,” Patroclus whispered roughly into his ear, one hand in Achilles’ hair while the other kneaded his ass. “Do you know what it was like, seeing you look this good all night and not being able to touch you?”
Achilles’ cheeks burned at the complement. He arched his back to press himself closer, gasping as Patroclus pressed kisses against his jaw. “You can touch me as much as you want,” he said breathlessly. “I’m yours.”
Only when Achilles felt the car begin to move did he think to ask, “Patroclus, where are we going?”
Patroclus grinned, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “Home.”
Chapter 21: Epilogue Part One – After The Final Rose
Notes:
I'M SORRY I know this took forever, my thesis unfortunately needed my attention
Anyway I hope you enjoy!! Part two coming soon <3
Chapter Text
“I have a surprise for you.”
They were lying face to face on Patroclus’ childhood bed, legs tangled together, wrapped up in each other's arms. Patroclus could hardly believe that Achilles was really here, so bright and beautiful among his old dusty things, beneath the glow in the dark stars he’d pasted on his ceiling as a boy.
“What is it?” he whispered.
The room was quiet, much quieter than anywhere they’d been in the last few weeks, and he could hear the faint inhale of Achilles’ breath before he spoke.
“You’ll have to finish undressing me to find out.”
Patroclus pushed him onto his back, rolling on top of him, grinning. “That can be arranged.”
Achilles giggled as he tossed his head back, golden curls tumbling onto the pillow as Patroclus kissed his neck. Truthfully, Patroclus had wanted to undress Achilles all evening. The taxi ride had been excruciatingly long, and Achilles’ sitting in his lap and teasing him the whole way hadn’t helped at all. Now that he had Achilles alone and all to himself, he was determined to make the most of it.
Achilles' shirt was already mostly unbuttoned. Patroclus now finished the job, slipping it from his shoulders and tossing it to the side. He then returned to pressing kisses along Achilles’ neck, then trailing down to the tender dip above his collarbone.
He wanted Achilles to feel loved. He wanted to show him that he didn’t, and never would, regret the decision they’d made that night. Aphrodite could do what she wanted with the footage – he didn’t care. He had everything he needed right here.
Achilles, however, was notoriously impatient. He took Patroclus by the wrist, guiding his hand down to his belt buckle. “Patroclus, please.”
Patroclus laughed. “Oh, alright.” He kissed Achilles’ pouting lips once more before undoing his belt, and then the button of his trousers.
As Achilles wriggled out of his trousers, Patroclus’ eyes widened at the sight before him.
“Is… this my surprise?”
“Yep.” Achilles kicked his trousers to the end of the bed, looking quite pleased with himself.
What he was wearing could only be described as scandalous – a wisp of fabric that just barely covered him. Black lace that hugged his hips and contrasted temptingly against the soft, milky skin of his thighs.
Patroclus ran his tongue over his lips, taking a moment to compose himself.
“Do you like them?”
Achilles’ smiled flirtatiously, but his voice betrayed a trace of hesitation. As if there was any world in which Patroclus could have been displeased with what he saw.
“Like them? Baby, you are so fucking gorgeous I’m going to lose my mind.”
Achilles’ smile widened, his cheeks flushing appreciatively.
Patroclus leaned down to kiss him, dipping his tongue into the warm sweetness of his mouth. He reached one hand between them, palming Achilles through his panties.
Achilles gasped against his mouth, lifting his hips up eagerly to meet his touch. He was already hard, straining against delicate lace and swelling even more under Patroclus’ palm.
Patroclus slipped his hand under Achilles’ waistband and began to stroke him slowly, twisting his hand in the way he knew his boyfriend liked. He would never tire of seeing Achilles get worked up like this. The color that rose to his cheeks. How his eyelids grew heavy. The moans that spilled from his lips, loud and unashamed.
With his free hand, Patroclus cupped Achilles’ cheek gently to draw his attention. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. I want to make you feel good.”
Achilles took a moment to respond.
“Would you – ah – would you make love to me?”
Patroclus’ hand stilled, his eyes widening in surprise.
“What?”
They hadn’t gone all the way before. They hadn’t really even talked about it. The suggestion of it now threw Patroclus off guard.
“Would you make love to me?” Achilles repeated. “I, um, I’ve been preparing myself.”
“Preparing for… what, exactly?” Patroclus asked carefully.
Achilles covered his face with his hands and groaned. “Patroclus. I know you thought you were straight, but please tell me you at least know how this works.”
Patroclus felt his face begin to grow warm. “I am… familiar with the concept.”
Achilles sat up on his elbows, looking at him intently. “So? Do you want to?”
It wasn’t as if Patroclus hadn’t thought about it before. What it would be like to have sex with Achilles, to be inside him.
He had to admit that the idea excited him.
“I… yeah, I want to,” he finally said.
Achilles’ face broke into a smile. He sat up and threw his arms around Patroclus’ neck. “Okay,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Wait here.”
Achilles climbed out of bed and walked over to his suitcase which was sitting near the door. He bent over, rummaging through one of the pockets.
Patroclus couldn’t help his eyes drifting to his boyfriend’s backside – those panties were really something. Achilles snuck a glance over his shoulder and smirked, giving his bum a wiggle, as if to make sure that Patroclus was ogling him.
Patroclus shook his head, laughing. He loved him so damned much.
“Aha!” Achilles announced after a moment of searching.
He stood up, and returned to the bed holding a bottle of lube.
Patroclus felt his heart quicken just a bit. They were really doing this.
“I’ll show you what to do, okay?” Achilles said, leaning back onto the mattress.
He slipped out of his panties, bending his knees and spreading his legs so that Patroclus had a full view. Patroclus had seen him naked before, of course, but this angle was new and much appreciated.
Achilles uncapped the bottle, rubbing some of the lube onto his fingers, and then slipped his hand down between his thighs.
Patroclus was torn between watching Achilles’ face and his fingers. There was a small, concentrated crease between his brows, his lips parted, a few blond curls clinging to his forehead. He slipped one finger inside himself and began moving it slowly in and out.
Patroclus shifted closer, resting his hand gently on Achilles’ knee, mesmerized.
Achilles gazed up at him, his eyes soft and trusting. “Do you want to try?”
Patroclus took a deep breath. Nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
Achilles handed him the lube, and he rubbed it onto his fingers, then positioned himself between Achilles’ legs, and lowered his hand. He brushed his finger over Achilles’ pink, puckered entrance and heard the other man take in a sharp breath. He paused, uncertain, glancing up at Achilles’ face.
“It’s okay,” Achilles said, giving him a small nod. “You won’t hurt me.”
Patroclus pushed the tip of his finger inside, just enough to feel Achilles’ warmth close in around it. Even if Achilles said he’d prepared, he felt so incredibly tight . Patroclus was a bit terrified that he would tear him apart.
He glanced up again. “Okay?”
“Mhmm. Keep going.”
He pushed his finger all the way in, then experimented moving it in and out like Achilles had before.
Achilles let out a soft gasp as he did so. “Fuck. Gods. That feels so much better when you do it.”
“Should I keep going?”
“Please. Add another one.”
Patroclus paused, frowning. “Are you sure?”
Achilles heaved something between a frustrated sigh and a whine, which Patroclus took as a yes.
He slipped his second finger in slowly, stretching Achilles, then began to move in and out again. This time, his fingers brushed against something, and Achilles cried out loudly.
Patroclus' heart dropped. With his free hand he cupped Achilles’ cheek, panicking. “Fuck. Baby, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”
Achilles threw his head back, laughing. “No.” He pressed a kiss to Patroclus’ palm. “Gods, no, love. Do that again, please.”
Understanding came over Patroclus, and heartbeat slowed, knowing that he hadn’t caused Achilles pain. He started thrusting his fingers in again, aiming for that same spot, and each time Achilles seemed to fall apart a bit further, his cries growing louder, a deep flush rising to his cheeks.
At Achilles’ command he added a third finger, and soon enough Achilles was tugging on his wrist, telling him, “Enough, Patroclus, I’m ready.”
Patroclus was nervous. Nearly as nervous as he’d been confessing his love to Achilles on television. Achilles had a big mouth, but Patroclus knew that underneath it he was fragile. And with three fingers, he’d already felt so stretched.
He leaned down, pressing his nose to Achilles’ and searching his eyes. “It’s alright if we don’t do it today, sweetheart. There’s no rush.”
Achilles’ face fell. “You don’t want to?”
“Of course I want to! I just don’t want to hurt you. Are you one hundred percent sure you’re ready?”
Achilles pressed his palm to Patroclus’ chest, over his heart. “One thousand billion percent. I swear it.”
Patroclus exhaled, placing his own hand over Achilles’. “Alright. How do we do this, then?”
Achilles shoved him away gently, then rolled onto his stomach, sticking his ass in the air. “Have at it.”
Patroclus looked at him in exasperation. He grabbed one of the pillows from the top of his bed and tapped Achilles on the bum. “Here, at least put this under you. It’ll be more comfortable.”
Achilles complied, situating the pillow under his hips. Meanwhile, Patroclus finished undressing, tossing his underwear carelessly aside. He took a generous amount of the lube in his hand and gave himself a few strokes, though he was already half hard just from kissing and taking care of Achilles.
He gave Achilles’ bum a squeeze. “Ready, sweetheart?”
“Been ready.”
Always so impatient. Patroclus smiled to himself.
He lined himself up, then, painstakingly slowly, started to push inside.
Achilles made a small noise of discomfort, and Patroclus immediately stopped. “Baby?”
“I’m okay,” Achilles said, voice a bit strained. “It’s just a lot… keep going.”
He kept going. Achilles was so fucking tight, the warm pressure of him pulsing around him with each inch, Patroclus was afraid he would come before he was even fully inside.
When he eventually did bottom out, he leaned down, smoothing back Achilles’ hair and pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. “How are you feeling?”
Achilles let out a shaky breath. “Never better.” He turned his head, looking up at Patroclus with a small smile. His sweet, lovely boy. Patroclus thought his heart would burst.
Patroclus kissed him, deep and unhurried. He interlaced their fingers and placed his other hand on the bed to steady himself. Then, he began to move his hips, in and out, slowly at first, until Achilles begged him to pick up the pace.
Achilles’ moans each time he hit the right spot echoed around the room, mingled with the sound of skin slapping against skin. And then Achilles let out a strangled cry, his muscles clenching around Patroclus. It was enough to send Patroclus over the edge as well. Seconds later he was spilling into Achilles, riding it out with a few final thrusts.
When he made to pull out Achilles gripped his hand. “Stay. Please. Just for a minute.” His voice was ragged, his body trembling under Patroclus.
Patroclus pressed his chest to Achilles’ back, kissing his shoulder, his neck, anywhere he could reach. “My sweet, perfect boy, I love you so much.”
He would have liked to have captured that moment forever, buried inside Achilles, so full of love for him. When he eventually did pull out, he gathered his boyfriend in his arms, taking his face between his hands, ensuring he was whole and alright.
Achilles allowed himself to be cleaned up, then rested his head over Patroclus’ heart, mumbling against his chest, “Love you,” and fell asleep soon after.
***
Patroclus was alone when he woke up. The sheets were tangled at his feet, sunlight pouring through the open window. He’d slept deeply, and his body still felt warm and heavy with it as he sat up.
“Achilles,” he called out. “Baby?”
No response.
Frowning, Patroclus got out of bed. He threw on a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt and stepped into the hallway, wondering where his boyfriend could have wandered off to.
And then he froze. There were voices coming from the kitchen.
He knew that Achilles would sing or mutter things to himself sometimes, but this sounded like a full conversation. Alarmed, Patroclus took hurried steps down the hallway, coming to a halt when he reached the entrance to the kitchen.
“Chiron?” he said, stunned. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until next week.”
Chiron was standing, cooking something on the stove, while Achilles sat at the dining table with a steaming mug in his hands. Pyrrhus was strutting across the countertop like he owned the place.
All three of them turned to stare at Patroclus.
Chiron set down the spatula he’d been holding and walked up to him. Placing a firm hand on Patroclus’ shoulder he said, “It’s good to see you again, son.”
Patroclus hugged him. For a moment, he allowed himself to Chiron like a little boy, breathing in his earthy scent.
He’d missed Chiron. He’d missed being home.
“The weather was looking unfavorable, so I decided to return early,” Chiron explained. He was supposed to have been on a camping trip further up in the mountains.
“Come,” he told Patroclus now. “Sit. Breakfast is almost ready.”
Patroclus went to the table and took his seat beside Achilles, who was watching him with a small smile.
“Morning,” Achilles said, nudging his foot against Patroclus’ under the table.
Chiron was back at the stove, humming to himself. Patroclus took the opportunity to place his hand on Achilles’ thigh, leaning in and speaking low enough so he wouldn’t be overheard. “How are you feeling?”
Achilles took a sip of his tea, then shrugged. “A bit sore.”
At Patroclus’ horrified expression, Achilles stifled a laugh. “I’m fine, don’t worry. You’re just big.”
Patroclus’ face burned.
“Achilles was telling me of your travels,” Chiron said, carrying over a platter of pancakes and sliced fruit. “It sounds like you’ve seen quite a bit of the world.”
They filled their plates, and they told Chiron about the past few months in between mouthfuls of warm pancakes and sweet figs and pomegranate.
Achilles took to Chiron with glowing admiration. He hung on the older man’s words, leaning forward whenever he spoke as if he wanted to win his approval. But Patroclus could see from the soft twinkle in Chiron’s eye that he already had.
Once they’d finished eating, Patroclus offered to help with the dishes while Achilles excused himself to take a shower.
“He’s a sweet young man.”
The words startled Patroclus, so that he almost dropped the plate he was drying off.
A small part of him had been worried about this. About how Chiron would react when he brought home a man instead of a woman.
He finished drying the plate, then stacked it away carefully in the cupboard.
“Yeah,” he replied quietly. “He is.”
He felt Chiron’s gaze on him, calm and steady. “Does he make you happy?”
Patroclus felt his eyes start to sting; he wasn’t sure why. He took a breath, hands gripping the dishtowel.
“He really, really does.”
When he finally looked up, Chiron was giving him a knowing smile. “That’s all that matters, my boy.”
***
Over the next couple of days Patroclus was happier, more at peace than he could remember. In the mornings he would take Achilles on long walks through the forest, showing him all the hidden places he used to explore there. Achilles would pluck flowers from the ground and arrange them in both of their hair. And, when Patroclus was lucky, he would push him against tree trunks and kiss him until he was breathless. The two of them would sit on the banks of the river, dipping their feet in the water and just being with each other.
They helped Chiron around the house – chopping wood, gathering wild herbs, cooking meals.
And in the evenings, they would return to Patroclus’ bedroom and make love. Afterwards, Patroclus would hold Achilles fast to his chest, feeling his heartbeat against his own amidst the quiet night air. He could have stayed like that forever.
However, their bliss was eventually interrupted.
It happened while Achilles was out back, helping Chiron chop firewood. Patroclus was in the kitchen cutting up vegetables for a stew, when he heard a knock at the door.
That in itself was unusual. Chiron hadn’t mentioned he was expecting company, and the house was situated high enough in the mountains that they hardly ever got any chance visitors.
Patroclus rinsed off his hands and went to the door.
He opened it, and there was a woman – tall, with long, glossy black hair and sharp cheekbones. Terrifyingly beautiful. And she looked furious.
“Where is my son?” the woman demanded, forgoing a greeting.
Patroclus took a step back, rightfully intimidated.
“You’re son…? I’m sorry, ma’am, but are you sure you have the right house?”
“Do not lie to me,” the woman snarled. “I know he’s here. Where are you keeping him?”
She stepped over the threshold, shouldering her way past Patroclus. She looked like she was prepared to scour the house herself.
Just as Patroclus was racking his brain in bewilderment with what to do, he heard Achilles and Chiron come in through the back door.
“Mom?!”
Patroclus swung around to gape at Achilles, somehow more confused than he’d been before.
“What are you doing here?” Achilles wore an expression of pure horror. “How did you even know where I was?”
“Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” Thetis promptly demanded, ignoring her son’s questions.
Achilles’ hands clenched into fists at his sides, heat rising to his cheeks. “I’ve been busy!”
“I’ve been in contact with Aphrodite. She informed me that you left her set. Naturally, I tracked your location through your cellphone, and I found you here, in the middle of the wilderness with two strange men. You will explain yourself this instant, Achilles.”
Achilles glared at his mother. He stepped up beside Patroclus and took hold of his hand. “Mom, this is Patroclus, my boyfriend. We met on the show, and we left together. That’s why I’m here.”
“Boyfriend?” Thetis spat the word as if it were poison. “I sent you away to find a wife, not a boyfriend .”
She looked at Patroclus, and her expression shifted to one of utmost contempt. “How dare you seduce my son.”
Patroclus’ eyes widened in horror. He opened his mouth to respond, with what he didn’t know, but Achilles beat him to it.
“Don’t speak to him like that! And if anything, it was me who seduced him!”
“Don’t be senseless, Achilles. This man is not worthy of you.”
Chiron, who had been observing the scene with quiet disapproval, stepped forward.
“Ma’am, I will not allow you to come into my home and insult my son. I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave, now.”
Thetis lifted her chin in disdain. “Fine. Come, Achilles, we’re going.”
Achilles lifted his own chin just as stubbornly. “No.”
Thetis stepped towards him, her voice a warning. “Now, Achilles.”
Achilles had tears in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Patroclus’ torso, clinging to him as if his mother might try to rip them apart with her bare hands. “You can’t make me! I love Patroclus and I won’t leave him!”
Thetis sighed impatiently. “Now you’re acting hysterical. If you don’t come with me this instant, you can say goodbye to your allowance for good. No credit cards, nothing. I mean it, Achilles.”
“I don’t care!” Achilles said hotly. “Patroclus is a doctor! He’s rich and he’ll buy me anything I want!”
Patroclus made a mental note to set some boundaries with Achilles on that point later, but figured now wasn’t the time to say anything.
Thetis stared at him in disbelief. “I see. You’ve made your choice, then.”
“I have.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Thetis turned around without another word, her heels clacking against the wooden floor as she stormed out.
When she’d gone, Achilles fell apart in Patroclus’ arms, his defiance giving way to tears. Patroclus held him through it. He mumbled sweet nothings in Achilles’ ear, though there was only so much he could say to comfort him when he’d essentially been rejected by his own mother.
Chiron brewed a pot of spiced lemon tea, and the three of them sat out on the back porch. Achilles curled himself against Patroclus’ side. Eventually, Pyrrhus came round and crawled into his lap, which seemed to cheer him up just a bit.
Patroclus stroked Achilles’ hair gently, heart aching for him. He knew one thing from that day on: Achilles had chosen him, and he would do everything in his power to make that choice worth it.
Chapter 22: Epilogue Part Two - The Men Tell All
Notes:
Aaaaaaaaaaaand finally we've reached the end!! I cannot thank you all enough for your comments/kudos/support on this fic <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 Seriously it means the world to me! What a journey this has been :')
Chapter Text
Nine Months Later
It was happening again.
Achilles was the first to notice them, and he sent a look of warning to Patroclus.
It was two girls this time, college age if Achilles had to guess. They were seated across the cafe, taking not-so-subtle pictures with their cellphones, then bursting into fits of blushing and giggling when Achilles glanced in their direction.
Eventually, one of them – the bolder of the two, it seemed – stood up, dragging her friend with her towards Achilles’ and Patroclus’ table.
The girls were blushing furiously now, whispering to each other. One of them pushed the other forward, and Achilles raised his eyebrows expectantly.
“Oh my gods, hi, so sorry to bother you, but like, we were just wondering, are you those gay guys from the Bachelorette?” the girl said all in one breath.
Achilles sighed inwardly. “Yep, that’s us.”
The girls squealed in excitement, clasping each others’ hands.
“I totally knew you were gay for each other all along. It was so obvious,” the girl said.
Her friend nodded enthusiastically. “Totally.”
“Your kiss at the rose ceremony was the most iconic thing I’ve ever seen. I literally screamed,” girl one gushed.
“Oh my gods, same,” girl two echoed.
Patroclus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Achilles decided it was time to get to the point.
“Is there something we can do for you girls?” he asked with all the politeness he could muster.
They took a picture together, and Achilles was just managing to shoo them away when they flung one final question at him.
“Do you have Paris’ number? Paris is, like, so hot.”
“Oh my gods, I would die for Paris.”
***
Later that day, Patroclus stood before the stove, stirring together a vegetable curry. Achilles stood close behind him, arms around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder.
“Smells nice,” Achilles murmured, nuzzling his face in Patroclus’ neck.
Patroclus hummed in response.
Achilles pressed a kiss underneath Patroclus’ ear. Then another one, nipping a bit.
“Not while I’m cooking, honey,” Patroclus said, attempting to shrug him off. “You’ll make me burn something.”
Achilles pulled away, pouting. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You don’t love me anymore, do you?”
Patroclus rolled his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. I love you with all my heart.”
“You never take me out anymore,” Achilles accused.
“I took you out this morning.”
“That doesn’t count. Going for coffee isn’t a real date. I’m talking about dinner, dancing, romance.”
Patroclus huffed, amused. “I’ll take you out for an evening of romance this weekend. How does that sound?”
“We can’t,” Achilles sighed wistfully. “We’re babysitting the baby this weekend.”
“Is that this weekend already?”
“Unfortunately. We should have never agreed to it.”
“What about next weekend?”
“You have that work conference thing.”
Achilles had taken it on as one of his duties as stay at home boyfriend to memorize their social calendar. This is how he knew that, sadly, Patroclus was often too busy with work and other boring things to give him the time and attention he deserved.
Patroclus set down the wooden spoon he’d been using and turned a knob on the stove. He stepped towards Achilles, placing his hands on his hips and pulling him close.
“We’ll find time, sweetheart. I promise.”
Their lips met with practiced ease, and Achilles hummed contentedly, melting against his boyfriend.
Then, annoyingly, the doorbell rang.
Patroclus frowned, glancing at the clock. “That’s strange. Briseis didn’t say she was getting here until six.”
“It’s probably Paris.”
“Paris?” Patroclus’ eyes widened in alarm. “What is he doing here? Did you invite him?”
Achilles shrugged. “He asked if he could stop by. I couldn’t say no. You know how he’s been lately.”
Patroclus groaned rather dramatically.
“What’s the big deal?” Achilles asked.
“You know Briseis can’t stand him,” Patroclus said. “Don’t you remember what happened last time? She’ll think we’re setting her up.”
“It’ll be fine. I’ll tell him to leave her alone.”
The doorbell rang again, and Achilles moved to answer it, leaving Patroclus grumbling behind him.
“Hey, man,” Paris greeted him, pulling Achilles into a bone-crushing hug.
“Hey,” Achilles wheezed, suffocated by the embrace. He patted Paris on the back. “How have you been?”
Paris sighed heavily, making no move to release him. “Getting by, you know?” he mumbled. “One day at a time.”
“Happy to hear it.” Achilles eased Paris gently away, then tried very hard not to grimace at the sight of him.
In the time since Helen dumped him, Paris had grown the most egregious mustache and started dressing like somebody’s grandfather. Today it was checked trousers and a heavy knitted sweater with elbow patches.
Achilles guided him into the kitchen. “Patroclus was just saying how he was looking forward to seeing you again, weren’t you, honey?”
Patroclus glared.
“Pat, my old buddy,” Paris said with emotion, pulling Patroclus into an embrace.
Patroclus returned the hug awkwardly, continuing to scowl at Achilles over his shoulder.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Achilles offered. “We have sparkling water, iced tea –”
“I’ll take red wine, thanks,” Paris said, releasing Patroclus and heading into the living room to make himself comfortable. “Oh, and keep the animal away from me, would you?” he added, referring to Pyrrhus, who was lounging atop the dining table.
“How is it that every time I see him, he’s become more unbearable than I remembered?” Patroclus whispered once Paris had departed.
Achilles sighed, uncorking a bottle of wine. “Take it easy on him. He’s going through a hard time.”
“He got dumped, he didn’t survive a war,” Patroclus quipped. “Not only that. He got dumped months ago. How long does he expect us to keep feeling sorry for him?”
“He loved Helen.” Achilles took the freshly poured glass in hand, stepping over to Patroclus and bumping their noses together. “You wouldn’t get over me so easily, would you?”
Patroclus sighed. “No, I suppose I wouldn’t.”
Achilles kissed the corner of his mouth. “Be nice to him.”
He carried the glass of wine into the living room, where Paris was busy gazing at the pictures on their mantlepiece with a forlorn expression.
Paris accepted the glass wordlessly, downing a large gulp.
“You sure are happy together, aren’t you?” he said tearfully, nodding to a picture of Achilles, Patroclus, and Pyrrhus smiling on the beach. “It must be nice.”
“Well, yes…” Achilles replied cautiously. At the miserable look on Paris’ face, he thought it best to change the subject. “Hey, I just remembered, Briseis should be here soon!”
Paris perked up considerably. “Briseis is coming over?”
“Yep. She’ll be here any minute.”
“Oh gods, how do I look?” Paris began to fuss with the collar of his shirt.
Briseis and Paris had met by accident. Paris was, so to speak, at his lowest point and basically living with Achilles and Patroclus at the time. Briseis had dropped by unexpectedly one day, and Paris had developed an instant crush – one which Briseis adamantly did not return.
“You look fine,” Achilles assured him. “Just, um…”
“What? Is my hair okay?” Paris lifted a hand to his head anxiously.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re good. It’s just… maybe try not to come on so strong with Briseis, you know?”
Paris chuckled. “Oh, Achilles. See, you don’t know about women, my friend. The subtle approach might work well with the fellas, but with a lady like Briseis? You have to show confidence. You have to be bold.”
“Well, sure,” Achilles said, “But not too bold –”
Paris shook his head decisively. “Trust me, bro. I’m taking my chance tonight. You’ll see.”
The doorbell sounded before Achilles could attempt any further persuasion, and Patroclus emerged from the kitchen to answer it. He welcomed Briseis inside with a hug, whispering something to her.
“Briseis!” Paris sprang forward, shoving his empty glass into Achilles’ hands. “Let me help you with your coat!”
“No need,” Briseis replied coolly. She removed her coat herself, handing it to Patroclus to hang in the closet.
“That outfit looks incredible on you,” Paris said, undeterred, staring quite blatantly down the front of her shirt.
Briseis’ expression was one of ice. “I wasn’t aware you had other company tonight,” she said to Achilles.
Achilles shifted guiltily.
“Come on,” Patroclus took her by the arm. “You can help me finish up dinner.”
Shortly, the four of them sat down to what was one of the most uncomfortable meals Achilles had experienced. Patroclus’ cooking was superb as always; however, it was offset by Paris’ unrelenting attempts to draw Briseis into conversation, and her unwavering determination to ignore him.
Therefore, when the doorbell rang again it seemed at first to be a welcome interruption. Only when Achilles opened the door did his heart plummet into his stomach.
There stood Helen, holding a wailing baby and looking close to tears herself.
“Achilles,” she said, “I’m sorry to barge in like this –” Her lip wavered, and the tears began to stream down her face.
Achilles, hopelessly confused, attempted a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Hey, think nothing of it…”
Thankfully, Patroclus came up behind him. “Helen? What’s the matter?” he asked, brow creased in concern.
“I need someone to watch Hermione for a few hours,” Helen said tearfully. “Menelaus is sick. It might be pneumonia. I have to take him to the hospital, and –”
Helen’s face went pale, her eyes widening as if she saw a ghost. Achilles didn’t need to glance over his shoulder to know the reason why.
“Paris,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t – I didn’t know…” she trailed off, looking suddenly embarrassed.
Paris stood a few paces behind Achilles. His mouth hung open as if struggling to form words. After a long moment he said, “Can I hold her?”
Helen’s eyes widened in surprise. “Paris –” she repeated.
Paris took a step closer, looking down at the crying baby, then up again at Helen. “Please?”
Hesitantly, Helen stepped forward, holding out the baby. Paris accepted the small bundle carefully, cradling it close to his chest and gazing down with an unreadable expression.
Achilles, watching the interaction with curiosity, could only guess what it meant to him. He knew how badly Paris had wanted that baby to be his.
“We’ll take care of her,” Paris murmured. “Go, be with your husband.”
***
A few weeks later, Achilles and Patroclus stood backstage in the Bachelorette studio along with the other contestants.
“All my bros back together again,” Diomedes was whispering emotionally, coming around to shake everyone’s hand.
Meanwhile, Paris and Odysseus had broken into a heated argument and Ajax was attempting to teach Antilochus breathing exercises to control his stage fright.
Achilles turned to Patroclus and found that the other man was already staring at him, warmth emanating from his brown eyes. Patroclus laced their fingers together, giving Achilles a small nod, and they stepped into the bright lights of the stage.
The studio audience roared as the men filed onstage and took their places.
Then the cameras pointed to Aphrodite, standing center stage. “Bachelorette Nation,” she announced, “Welcome to the live television special – The Men Tell All.”
Helen was poised on a sofa beside Aphrodite, who continued speaking. “Tonight, Helen and all of your favorite contestants have returned to discuss what has been by far the most dramatic season in Bachelorette history. Helen, gentleman, are you ready?”
For the next several hours, Aphrodite led them back in time to the season’s most noteworthy moments, from Agamemnon’s outrageous departure to the Odysseus and Penelope scandal.
“Now,” Aphrodite said eventually, “I want to turn the discussion to something truly unprecedented in Bachelorette history, an event that shocked fans across the globe.”
On the large screen behind them, Achilles watched as his own image appeared. It was replaying a scene from the very first episode, during the first cocktail party. He was talking to Patroclus, the two of them standing apart from the rest of the men, eyes fixed on each other. Achilles’ face was beet red as he spoke to Patroclus, fidgeting nervously with cuffs of his sleeves and smiling shyly.
Watching it now, Achilles wished to hide his face in his hands. Had he really been so obvious?
Scenes flashed on the screen – Achilles and Patroclus sitting in the hot tub together, sitting beside each other at cocktail parties, Patroclus’ hand lingering a bit too long on Achilles’ shoulder or waist, secret smiles and longing looks that had been caught on camera. It all led up to the final scene, the rose ceremony, with the two of them falling into each others’ arms, kissing.
“Achilles,” Aphrodite’s voice cut through his memories. “Tell us honestly, how long had you and Patroclus been seeing each other in secret before that fateful rose ceremony?”
Achilles took in a breath. “It had been a few weeks. It was in Scotland, the first time we – well, our first kiss. But honestly, I… I liked Patroclus from the very beginning.”
The audience awed.
Aphrodite turned her piercing eyes to Patroclus. “Patroclus, did you feel the same, right from the start? Did you come on the show with an ulterior motive, knowing you weren’t actually interested in Helen?”
“No,” Patroclus began, a small crease between his brow. “I was interested in Helen, in the beginning. I never expected that I would come on this show and fall in love with a man, but I met Achilles and… it happened. It happened gradually. It wasn’t easy for me to accept. Luckily for me, Achilles was patient enough to wait until I learned to accept it. To accept that I love him.”
Achilles grinned. Without another thought, he leaned over, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek, and the audience erupted.
Aphrodite moved on to other topics, including Helen’s break up with Paris (a frightful scene) and her engagement to Menelaus (a heartwarming one). Paris announced that he had a new girlfriend (a claim Achilles knew to be false), while Menelaus appeared to be once again in good health, and beamed as he described the joys of fatherhood.
Finally, to everyone’s shock and fascination, Aphrodite declared that the next Bachelor would be none other than Antilochus, who appeared plagued with embarrassment at the news.
Afterwards, Achilles rolled down the passenger side window as Patroclus drove them away from the studio. He loosened his tie, sighing in contentment as the cool evening wind hit his face.
He let his eyes fall closed for a while, and when he opened them again was curious to see that Patroclus was in fact not taking the usual way back to their flat.
“Where are we going?” he asked, turning to his boyfriend with a raised eyebrow.
A small smile crept onto Patroclus’ lip, his eyes not leaving the road. “You’ll see.”
They pulled up to a quiet beach, a place Achilles didn’t recognize.
“Where are we?”
“Come on,” Patroclus said, opening his door and getting out without explanation.
He walked over to the passenger side and took Achilles’ hand. He began walking towards the shore, and Achilles followed along in confusion.
Patroclus wore a quiet, contemplative expression as they walked along the beach, the sun nearly set on the horizon. “Here,” he said eventually, coming to a halt.
There, standing out against the white sand were red rose petals, arranged in the shape of a heart.
A grin broke onto Achilles’ face at the cheesy, romantic gesture. It was just the sort of thing his Patroclus would do.
“Patroclus,” he turned to face him, then gasped.
Patroclus was kneeling, a small black box in his hands, in which laid a golden ring with a shimmering, rose-quartz stone.
“Achilles Pelides," Patroclus said softly, gazing up at him, "will you marry me?”
Of course, he said yes.