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Eighteen flights of stairs. Eighteen. Technically, there was nothing actually stopping Patroclus from taking the elevator up to his and Achilles’ apartment. But it was Christmas Eve, and apparently everyone and their dog had decided to get last minute presents because people were cramming into the elevators with boxes and bags almost falling from every single limb. And, sure, maybe Patroclus wasn’t that much better, but at least his last-second gift was small enough for him to put in his coat pocket. Although, maybe it would have been better to get something bigger, at least then he could justify waiting to shove his way into one of the elevators, right along with all the other crinkling gift bags and the worrying sounds of the elevator that seemed like it was somehow older than the building surrounding it.
Instead he was here. Rounding the corner for the last flight of stairs as he began to search through the pockets of his coat for his key. It wasn’t actually his coat, but he stole it from Achilles often enough that at this point he figured it was safe to say they shared custody. Finally, he found his key, fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the keychain Brisies had bought him for Christmas last year.
Reaching towards the door, Patroclus brushed a stray piece of hair out of his face, and almost jumped when the door right in front of him swung open, revealing his boyfriend’s smiling face.
“Welcome home babe,” Achilles’ infectious smile was already making its presence shown on Patroclus’ face.
Trying to fight the grin spreading across his face, Patroclus looked up at Achilles’ face, eyes resting on the little divots his smile formed. Traced the blonde hair gently waving, outlining the side of his face, “Mhm… and is there any particular reason you’re blocking the entryway to our apartment?”
“What if I just wanted to greet my gorgeous boyfriend at the door?”
Patroclus kept his voice low as he stood on his tiptoes, pressing a gentle kiss to Achilles’ cheek, “Then I would say you succeeded. May your boyfriend please come inside now?”
“That depends.”
“On what, exactly.”
“Well on two things,” Achilles smile somehow seemed to grow wider as he locked eyes with Patroclus, the green catching the horrible overhead lights of the hallway, “One, is said boyfriend willing to give me another kiss?”
“Always,” Patroclus grabbed onto Achilles’ shirt, pulling himself upwards for another kiss, only to be interrupted by the smiles constantly pulling at their faces. Honestly he didn’t really know how they ever got a decent kiss in between the smiles and the laughter.
“You passed the first one with flying colors.”
“Hmmm,” Patroclus mused, still not entirely trusting the glint in Achilles’ eyes, “And what is the second thing it depends on?”
Achilles' smile changed to something entirely different. It was a subtle shift, sure, and to anyone else it may have seemed like the only thing that moved was the hair cascading over his shoulders. Patroclus knew better. Patroclus knew those smile lines and dimples, knew the way those eyebrows would knit together whenever Achilles tried to figure out a particularly difficult question on his homework. And he knew that smile. He knew the bashful smile of ‘I may have done something incredibly stupid.’ And, nine times out of ten, his boyfriend had indeed done something so incredibly stupid that anyone else might peg him for an idiot. Okay maybe he was an idiot. But maybe, just maybe, that was part of why Patroclus loved him so much.
Maybe he loved that feeling in his stomach, the drop as Achilles told him ‘i may have done something…’ Maybe it just felt like falling in love all over again. A terrifying drop that somehow lead to laughter and warmth. So horrifying in the moment, and yet afterwards Patroclus would always wish he had made the jump sooner. Maybe it was like falling in love, or maybe Patroclus just was falling in love. Again and again and again, falling in love with gentle blonde waves and green eyes, falling in love with whispered jokes and barely-held in laughter, falling in love with secret kisses and even quieter ‘I love you’s.
“Remember when I said I was going to make us cookies?” Achilles’ soft voice pulled Patroclus out of his thoughts, placing him right back in the hallway. Although suddenly he could smell the vanilla and sugar emanating from the space behind Achilles.
“Oh god,” Patroclus raised an eyebrow, “I would ask if you burnt them but that’s more my thing.”
“Oh yes you’re a terrible baker… Turns out I’m not the worst, I’m just really really bad at math.”
“What else is new?”
Achilles’ smile softened, “Well the twelve batches of cookies on our table is definitely new…”
“The-“ Patroclus felt his eyebrows raise as he stared at Achilles, “I’m sorry the HOW MANY batches of cookies?!”
Laughter poured from Achilles’ lips as Patroclus pushed past him into the kitchen, “In my defense I didn’t think one would be enough… so I tried to double the recipe but I think I did more than that, then I didn’t have enough frosting so I had to make more frosting, and then I didn’t have enough cookies so I had to make more cookies and-“
“I leave for one day,” Patroclus turned on a heel, his playful anger given away by the smile still stretching the freckles on his face, “One day Achilles. And you’ve managed to turn our apartment into a Pillsbury doughboy nursery!”
“I wanted to surprise you!”
Patroclus laughed, throwing his arms around Achilles’ shoulders, letting the kitchen behind them fade to a blurry collage of spilled flour and misread directions, “I love you so much.”
Achilles pressed a gentle kiss to Patroclus’ lips, making his heart flutter again as he whispered, “I love you more.”
Patroclus felt his stomach drop. And there it was again, that drop, that rush of emotion as Achilles told him he loved him. He’d heard it so many times, and sometimes it did little more than make his heart flutter. But sometimes, times like these, god, he could feel it everywhere. He could feel the fire burning somewhere deep within, feel how it lept as Achilles held him close. It was always the quieter moments. So silent and so alone, that caused such a commotion in his heart. That sent his stomach hurtling when Achilles pulled him in for another kiss, the taste of whispered feelings still laying on his lips.
Sometimes Patroclus wondered how long they would last, if Achilles ever got the same feeling. He was always so fearless, so eager to try anything. Patroclus could only hope that he occasionally gave his boyfriend the same butterflies he had grown so accustomed to over the years.
“Patroclus,” God he could melt into that sound, melt into the way Achilles said his name, like a song leaving his soft lips, “Patroclus!”
“Hm?”
“What are we going to do with all these cookies?”
Patroclus felt his soft, melty smile turn into a grin, and then a chuckle, and then a laugh, carrying him into sheer joy as he watched Achilles try to fight the smile pulling at his own lips,
“Babe this is serious, I have enough cookies to feed every pidgeon in the United States and you are laughing.”
“My most sincere apologies love,” Patroclus tried his best to get a handle on his laughter, but continued to fail at keeping the smile off his face, “Well how about we share a plate of them while watching a movie, and we can figure out what to do with the rest in the morning.”
Achilles smiled, pressing a kiss to Patroclus’ forehead, “That’s the best idea you’ve had yet, I love procrastinating on making decisions!”
“Oh believe me I know.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Remember last year? You decided that we should go order pizza for the christmas party, which was great and all until there was suddenly only 45 minutes until everyone was supposed to be here and you hadn’t even looked at the menu.”
Achilles smiled sheepishly, loading cookies onto a blue plastic plate and carrying it towards the couch, “Okay you make a good point.”
“I always do,” Patroclus grabbed Achilles hand, lacing their fingers together as Achilles turned on the TV, switching over to Netflix and quickly putting on some stupid Christmas special. Usually they would spend almost an hour just trying to decide, but it wasn’t about the movie.
No, this was about them. About the plate of cookies in front of them, covered in messy white frosting and haphazard sprinkles of every color. Patroclus leaned his head on Achilles shoulder, welcoming the weight of his boyfriend’s arm around his own shoulders as the movie faded to background noise. All he could hear was Achilles’ heart, the pace almost matching his own as snow began to fall outside their window. Achilles had made far too many cookies, but maybe that would just be an excuse for more nights like this. More nights wrapped in one blanket and two arms. More nights listening to Achilles heart, feeling his breath on the back of his neck, forming the syllables to say I love you. More nights of falling in love over and over again. More nights of thinking about that present, thinking about when to form a few much more important syllables. More nights here. With Achilles. And a table full of christmas cookies.