Summary: Achilles obviously needs one of those big body pillows, because Patroclus is less than thrilled about being used as a substitute. Another young Patroclus fluffy oneshot with lots of cousinly cuddling. Still not intended as slash. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Despite all the work I've done with them, I still don't own the boys or anything else related.
Author's Note: Special thanks to my new reader soso22 for feeding me some plot bunnies that helped spur this fic into reality, along with any others who have lately encouraged me to write more Troy stories. And so I offer up this little tidbit for your perusal, trusting that it will keep all your fluffiness cravings sated for at least a while. Enjoy!
Zeus must have been angry that night. Lightning flashed, and thunder cracked with hardly a space between, while the sea itself roiled in protest against a brutal, buffering wind. And yet it was none of these things which kept Patroclus awake.
The ten-year-old Greek lay on his side under the blankets, curled up into a pitiful little ball with tears in his big blue eyes. He'd been dreaming again – about his parents, naturally – and now sleep seemed as far away from him as the dawn itself. He could still see their faces behind his eyelids with every blink, and for the thousandth time he wondered what those faces looked like now.
They'd told him it was a shipwreck which claimed those two people most dear to him, yet no information was ever offered regarding the details of how exactly they had died. Most likely no one knew. All the same, Patroclus found himself dwelling on it far more often than was beneficial. And despite his innate love of the sea, it had been some weeks before the youth was finally coaxed back into the waves for a swim with Achilles.
Achilles – his shamelessly idolized elder cousin and now guardian, a man strong enough and fearless enough to conquer anything. Or at least, that was how Patroclus' young and tender mind perceived him. Surely even a child's nightmares could not hope to contend with the peerless Lion of the Myrmidons!
And so it was with that thought that Patroclus slipped out from under his own covers and tiptoed down the empty hallway to his cousin's bedroom. Already it was not uncommon for him to spend his nights here with Achilles, but the boy also knew that it was always prudent to exercise caution when approaching a sleeping lion.
"Achilles?" he whispered, still standing several steps back from the edge of the bed and giving way to a tremor that ran through his small body with the next peal of thunder. "Cousin?"
That finally sparked a stirring from the older man, who rolled over onto his side and cracked one eye open to focus on the fearful figure fidgeting by his bedside. Sighing heavily, he scooted over a tad and lifted the blankets with one hand to indicate that Patroclus should join him there.
The boy complied eagerly, scampering up onto the bed and snuggling close against his guardian's broad chest. Even Achilles' familiar scent was soothing.
"What has frightened you this time, cousin?" the Myrmidon Lord murmured sleepily into his charge's soft hair. "Nightmares or the storm?"
"Both," Patroclus admitted glumly, though he was already relishing the closeness and the warmth.
"Well, you needn't worry about the storm; you know I would protect you from even Zeus himself."
Something bright and warm seemed to blossom inside the boy's stomach at those words, and no storm could possibly have chased away the little smile that crept on to his face. "I know, cousin."
Achilles then wrapped one massive arm around Patroclus' slender waist and tugged him even closer. The older Greek said nothing more, but it was not needed. Already Patroclus' eyelids were starting to droop as the steady rise and fall of his protector's chest lulled him back to sleep.
When morning came some hours later and brought a fresh bout of sunshine with it, Patroclus woke with the distinct feeling that he had slept peacefully; he didn't even remember moving or turning over once since he'd fallen asleep in Achilles' bed. And speaking of Achilles, it was obvious that the man had not been so still during his night's repose.
It took a moment for Patroclus to realize the extent of the situation as he blinked away the effects of his slumber, yet there could be no denying the very simple fact that he was trapped. Achilles' much larger body now covered his nearly completely, with an arm still locked around him like a vise and one leg slung haphazardly over both of Patroclus' so that his weight nearly crushed the youth down onto the mattress.
The boy wriggled under his cousin's unmoving bulk, struggling to move out and find freedom, but all to no avail. Surprisingly, Achilles slept on. Patroclus blew out a quick huff of breath, frustrated, yet his impatience was short-lived. After all, if Achilles was kind enough to share his bed, the least Patroclus could do was allow the man to sleep in peace.
Besides, he told himself, one day he would be big enough and strong enough to push Achilles off whenever he wanted. One day he might even be brave enough not to require comfort after a nightmare.
But not today.