up all night (1/1)
patroclus/achilles → 600+ words → pg-13 → Patroclus should have anticipated that trying to have a “study session” at Achilles house could only go wrong. → high school/modern!au → for siani, and for lubna for tweeting about this when i should’ve been doing homeowork…
Patroclus should have anticipated that trying to have a “study session” at Achilles house could only go wrong.
“Define photosynthesis,” Patroclus reads off their review packet, voice monotone as he taps the eraser of his pencil rhythmically against the apple of his cheek. He waits patiently for his boyfriend to speak, but the silence drones on for one, two, three seconds before he sighs. “Achilles?”
Achilles hums in acknowledgement beside him, pressing his face unreasonably close to Patroclus’ jaw. Patroclus can feel the curve of his lips into a wide smile against his skin, and the fleeting touch of Achilles’ nimble fingers as they skim the strip of skin where his shirt rides up. He tries not to shiver.
“You smell good,” Achilles mumbles offhandedly, like Patroclus’ words have gone in one ear and out the other (which he’s sure they have). He’s smiling-- Patroclus can always tell when he’s smiling, just from how he speaks. “Like, really good.”
Patroclus shoves down the urge to smile himself, nail scraping against the thick paper. “Well, I do bathe regularly,” he jokes, ignoring the way Achilles’ breath tickles his skin when he laughs. It’s harder than it sounds, but Patroclus is good at suppressing. “But seriously, photosynthesis. Define it,” he tries again, making a valiant effort to stay focused on the task at hand.
He isn’t surprised when Achilles whines, slumping forward until his cheeks are pressed snugly into Patroclus’ shoulder. He huffs his cheeks out like a petulant kid for a moment. “Isn’t that the thing with sunlight and plant food?” He asks, voice muffled into his shirt.
Patroclus grins proudly, reaching a hand up to ruffle his boyfriend’s blond curls. “Very eloquently put,” he teases, tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear affectionately. He can tell Achilles is smiling again. “Okay, what is chlorophyll?”
Another stretch of silence, but Patroclus is more patient this time. “Not that I care or anything,” Achilles mumbles, finally. “But isn’t it that stuff that makes plants turn green?” He’s started sitting up again, pressing his face back into the crook of Patroclus’ neck and shoulder, like he’s rewarding himself for knowing basic 7th grade science. “And… it’s found in those chloroplast thingies.”
Patroclus almost laughs when he hears the word thingy fall from his boyfriend’s lips. “See? It’s not so hard,” he mocks, ignoring Achilles when he attempts to bury himself deeper into his shoulder. “Now, lets identify the parts of a flower,” he carries on, and Achilles pouts, mouth brushing his skin. He taps the end of the pencil against the pixelated diagram. “What’s this called?”
Achilles doesn’t even look up. “That’s a petal,”he says idly. Patroclus drags his pencil a little lower, moving in sync with Achilles’ lips along his skin. “Neck…”
“Actually, its called a stem.”
“Patroclus,” Achilles sighs his name, nosing along his jugular with a soft hum. “I actually don’t care,” he whispers, voice laced with amusement as he presses a soft line of kisses down his neck. “Shut up about plants already.”
Giving into Achilles is almost too easy, and Patroclus feels like he has to fight it, just for the sake of pride. “But we have finals,” he says, just as Achilles mouths along his pulse. He scrapes his teeth down his skin, gently. A shiver wracks its way down his spine in response “Achilles,” Patroclus says insistently, but his words taper off into a whine, leaning forward for more.
“Just kiss me, damn,” Achilles laughs, pushing Patroclus’ binder onto the floor and slipping his hand up to curl against his neck. “You talk too much,” he whispers, and slots their mouths together, neatly, perfectly.
We should’ve stayed at the library, Patroclus thinks distantly, but he’s smiling into the kiss.
+if ur patrochilles trash and u know it clap ur hands
++ thank you carly for doing a quick once over ily
+++ you can always leave me prompts here if you want a fic and i might eventually do it
Patroclus should have anticipated that trying to have a “study session” at Achilles house could only go wrong.
“Define photosynthesis,” Patroclus reads off their review packet, voice monotone as he taps the eraser of his pencil rhythmically against the apple of his cheek. He waits patiently for his boyfriend to speak, but the silence drones on for one, two, three seconds before he sighs. “Achilles?”
Achilles hums in acknowledgement beside him, pressing his face unreasonably close to Patroclus’ jaw. Patroclus can feel the curve of his lips into a wide smile against his skin, and the fleeting touch of Achilles’ nimble fingers as they skim the strip of skin where his shirt rides up. He tries not to shiver.
“You smell good,” Achilles mumbles offhandedly, like Patroclus’ words have gone in one ear and out the other (which he’s sure they have). He’s smiling-- Patroclus can always tell when he’s smiling, just from how he speaks. “Like, really good.”
Patroclus shoves down the urge to smile himself, nail scraping against the thick paper. “Well, I do bathe regularly,” he jokes, ignoring the way Achilles’ breath tickles his skin when he laughs. It’s harder than it sounds, but Patroclus is good at suppressing. “But seriously, photosynthesis. Define it,” he tries again, making a valiant effort to stay focused on the task at hand.
He isn’t surprised when Achilles whines, slumping forward until his cheeks are pressed snugly into Patroclus’ shoulder. He huffs his cheeks out like a petulant kid for a moment. “Isn’t that the thing with sunlight and plant food?” He asks, voice muffled into his shirt.
Patroclus grins proudly, reaching a hand up to ruffle his boyfriend’s blond curls. “Very eloquently put,” he teases, tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear affectionately. He can tell Achilles is smiling again. “Okay, what is chlorophyll?”
Another stretch of silence, but Patroclus is more patient this time. “Not that I care or anything,” Achilles mumbles, finally. “But isn’t it that stuff that makes plants turn green?” He’s started sitting up again, pressing his face back into the crook of Patroclus’ neck and shoulder, like he’s rewarding himself for knowing basic 7th grade science. “And… it’s found in those chloroplast thingies.”
Patroclus almost laughs when he hears the word thingy fall from his boyfriend’s lips. “See? It’s not so hard,” he mocks, ignoring Achilles when he attempts to bury himself deeper into his shoulder. “Now, lets identify the parts of a flower,” he carries on, and Achilles pouts, mouth brushing his skin. He taps the end of the pencil against the pixelated diagram. “What’s this called?”
Achilles doesn’t even look up. “That’s a petal,”he says idly. Patroclus drags his pencil a little lower, moving in sync with Achilles’ lips along his skin. “Neck…”
“Actually, its called a stem.”
“Patroclus,” Achilles sighs his name, nosing along his jugular with a soft hum. “I actually don’t care,” he whispers, voice laced with amusement as he presses a soft line of kisses down his neck. “Shut up about plants already.”
Giving into Achilles is almost too easy, and Patroclus feels like he has to fight it, just for the sake of pride. “But we have finals,” he says, just as Achilles mouths along his pulse. He scrapes his teeth down his skin, gently. A shiver wracks its way down his spine in response “Achilles,” Patroclus says insistently, but his words taper off into a whine, leaning forward for more.
“Just kiss me, damn,” Achilles laughs, pushing Patroclus’ binder onto the floor and slipping his hand up to curl against his neck. “You talk too much,” he whispers, and slots their mouths together, neatly, perfectly.
We should’ve stayed at the library, Patroclus thinks distantly, but he’s smiling into the kiss.
+if ur patrochilles trash and u know it clap ur hands
++ thank you carly for doing a quick once over ily
+++ you can always leave me prompts here if you want a fic and i might eventually do it