#drinking contest

Kinda. I actually forgot where I was going with this (I think it turned into The Fixer eventually) so this might be all anyone sees of it. I enjoy the scene tho and want to share it.

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“Achilles,” Patroclus whispered out of the side of his mouth.

“Yes, dear Patroclus?” Achilles said. Patroclus could hear the winsome smile, not seen for a long time in the halls in Phthia.

“I’m not sure I can do this.”

“You did it all the time with Ajax!”

“And I lost all the time with Ajax!”

Achilles kicked him, a small movement only Patroclus noticed. The others were scrambling around them, taking sides.

“Ajax is the size of a boat. Putting drink in him has as much effect as pouring it in the sea. <em>Eudorus</em> is merely a man.”

“The sea is bigger than a boat, Achilles.”

We were at Pelion together. I also have some godblood. Do they resent me? Does everyone already know we are now lovers?

Patroclus turned to Achilles, ready for a mischievous turn to his smile, but his perfect bow of a mouth was impassive. The prince got up and walked to the head of the table and raised both arms, golden hair as luminous as the sunset’s reflection on the sea.

“Eudorus thinks he can drink Patroclus here under the table. Patroclus disagrees. Automedon, to my left, will take your bets.”

Automedon, who was also good with horses and was training to be Achilles’s charioteer, blushed at being singled out by Achilles.

Patroclus was shocked Achilles was staying out of taking sides.

Maybe I am getting through to him.

Automedon laughed as he was swarmed, the fosters and local men offering up everything from clothing to wine rations to easier chores as currency or collateral. Patroclus watched Automedon wet a clay tablet and scraped off the prior scratching and hurriedly make his own. He recognized the first character of his own name-Pa-off to the side. Apparently Achilles knew he could write.

He has been paying attention. What witchcraft is this?

Patroclus sighed and looked around the hall, at men and some scattered women loosening up as feasting gave way to drinking. At the high table across the hall King Peleus had that look. Patroclus first saw it when words of complaint from a tavern keeper about Patroclus’s excursions with his daughter reached him years earlier. It was less disappointment or boys will be boys than this already? Tonight it was directed at his son, as drunk as he had ever seen him and using his princely ways to get everyone drunker. It reminded Patroclus of the kind of story Peleus would tell about his time aboard The Argo in his youth. Now it was their turn to be rowdy.

Patroclus was literally shaken out of his musings as his supporters gathered behind him, reaching to touch him as they usually reached to touch Achilles. A hand produced a goat skin container, fat with wine, in front of him as Eudorus set himself up across the table in their corner of the hall.

Achilles looked forward between them but saw all. He raised his hand—he had always been poised and regal, and now after years with Chiron his movements looked like they could belong to a god—and then he brought his hand down.

The game was on.

The unmixed wine burned in his throat; Patroclus was no expert but he was convinced it had gone off, somehow. The splitting in his ears from the screams around him was almost as painful.

Eudorus was struggling as much as he was and Patroclus closed his eyes, bringing a hand to his lips and balancing the goat skin on his arm.

Seconds passed. The voices grew quiet and loud in waves, until finally Patroclus heard some sputtering across the table. Eudorus was out, but Patroclus still had to finish.

He knew that all eyes were on him, and was going to make it count. He tried not to choke.

Back straight. Be gracious. Finish this up. Show them you earned it.

But Patroclus seemingly had a new adversary, one from an unexpected corner. First, his new nemosis knocked his hat off by the brim, his curls fanning out then falling after it. Then, his himation was yanked off his shoulders. Whistles sounded around him. Finally, a finger, strong as bronze and quick and nimble like a flame leaping from dry branch to dry branch in the heat of summer, found its way under his armpit. For a terrifying second it was still, but then it twitched, hitting his most sensitive spots. He snort-laughed so hard wine shot out of his nostrils and bounced between the goatskin and his eyelids.

Yet he kept drinking. And he remembered that he had a free hand.

He did not need to open his eyes to know where his unseen adversary stood. He spread his fingers and rushed his palm to a hairsbreadth from the other man’s face, so close he could feel his breathing.

The faskeloma, as offensive a hand gesture as he could make, meant to repel spirits with evil intentions. And he knew this spirit better than any other. Cheers erupted from everywhere, including Eudorus’s corner.

Good, they still like me.

He was almost done. Patroclus tossed his head back further, to get the very last drops. The men—weren’t they all just boys, not too long ago?—raised their voices with the goatskin, urging Patroclus on.

Patroclus wiggled his fingers one last time as he took his final gulp, and he would have swooned entirely when he was done if one of the men behind him had not caught him. He rode the swell of cheers for a moment before opening his eyes again.

It was his first good look at Achilles that evening. The unmarked skin, the long sleek hair, the way he was lovelier than any woman despite his manly strength, that his beauty had an element of terror, it was all familiar but it took his breath away every time.

Achilles’s eyes were aflame, likely faintly alarming at any angle but the one where Patroclus sat, as so many things with Achilles were. For of course Achilles had not been Patroclus’s adversary when he had knocked away his clothing, but his accomplice, raising Patroclus’s glory higher and showing, once again, that this exile was worthy of his lofty place in Phthian court. And Patroclus was going to have to thank him for it later. He was already aroused at the thought.

They must have stared at each other for too long. Men around them started to whistle. Patroclus blinked and looked away, only partially breaking the spell. Achilles stood and said some words or another, and some boy crowned Patroclus with leaves that looked like they had hurriedly plucked from a bush outside, but the crowd moved around him like seafoam and he only heard Achilles speak as if he were underwater.

Drunk. He was quite drunk, probably even before the goatskin, another of which was being passed around right then. He looked on fearfully until a serving girl, whom he remembered as being not at all dumb, grabbed it and directed it away from him. He tried to give her a nod but didn’t know if she saw it. He was still breathless after his moment with Achilles.

He found Achilles had roamed to the high table, talking with his father and a guest. It was the polite thing to do, but Achilles couldn’t just leave him, not after he looked at Patroclus like that. Achilles caught his eye while glancing over a broad shoulder, and Patroclus again saw the smirk.

He fucking knows.

Well, two could play at that game.

He was not graceful, and he had to glance at his lap to make sure he was decent to stand, but Patroclus managed to find his feet, and looked around the hall.

INKTOBER 2022 REQUEST #8

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Yeahh a drinking contest between a goddess and the king would would be quite chaotic and the bills are definitely through the roof for the loser.

Olympia(Olympus!Muffet), Amor (Mercy!Mettaton), and DT (Determined!Undyne) are by @sagaverse / @revolvius Darwin is by @somextraart

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Fire Emblem Siblings Week 2023 - Day One: "Challenge"