Chapter Text
The storm formed fast and became a major problem even quicker.
Hurricanes on Ithaca weren’t unusual. It was an island surrounded by sea, after all, so some tumultuous weather was to be expected. But in all his years camping out in Ithaca, Antinous had never before seen something like this.
Granted, it’d been cloudy and gray for months on end. Perhaps they should’ve seen it coming. The stillness of the sea and sky had been suspicious, certainly, but the kingdom as a whole had chosen to turn a blind eye to it. They’d had bigger fish to fry at the time, said fish being the battle for the throne and siege of suitors spilling into the palace and refusing to be banished.
Antinous could acknowledge the role he’d played in taking the kingdom’s eyes off of the real disaster brewing. But it’d been twenty years, and Ithaca needed a real ruler. One who wouldn’t be so easily sidetracked. Someone bigger, stronger, and wiser than the feeble Penelope of Sparta.
And sure, he wasn’t so delusional as to pretend his interest in the throne was purely selfless. In fact, it’d be a lot more accurate to say it was almost entirely selfish. He wanted the power, the influence, the prestige that came with being king.
It was just that the royal family seemed intent on making such a goal difficult for him.
Not that any of it mattered. The storm which had been brewing for the nearly half a year had landed at last. And when it came down, it made sure everyone knew it.
The outer walls of the castle, despite their thick and sturdy foundation, rocked uncontrollably beneath the strong winds. Antinous ducked his head, squinting through the harsh air and sting of rain against his cheeks. The courtyard, once so boisterous and bright, had been reduced to practically nothing.
A small tree ripped from the ground and flew, narrowly missing a fellow suitor. Antinous ignored his yell. He wasn’t feeling particularly inclined to help anyone, especially not when said someone only served as an obstacle to his endeavors.
Using all of his strength, he pushed through the powerful gales. Despite the pushback, he finally managed to get to the castle doors and throw himself inside.
The suitor hardly got a chance to breathe as he swiftly realized that inside wasn’t much better than the outdoors. The entire building rocked uncontrollably, sending paintings, tapestries, and pottery spiralling to the floor. He cursed as a shard of clay tore into his leg, falling back onto a nearby table.
Antinous glanced around. He had to think fast; he was an Ithacan native, for the gods’ sake. He was not about to die in a hurricane, no matter how destructive it may be. There’d be no living (dying?) that down.
He knew, firstly, he had to get to higher ground. With the amount of rainfall pouring down by the second, there would no doubt be flooding. Antinous raced up a nearby staircase, and then another, and then a third. Once he was on the highest possible level, his eyes darted about, searching for a suitable room.
Something with a door. That could keep the brunt of the water out for a while, at least until things died down. No windows, near the centermost part of the castle…
Ah. How hadn’t he thought of it before?
Antinous continued down the hallway, hurrying over to the entrance to the treasury. It was typically locked up and well defended by the queen’s few loyal guards, but with the imminent chaos, said guards were likely busy getting the queen to safely. Sure enough, no one was there, and when he tried the door, it was unlocked.
That should’ve been his first clue things were about to go to shit. It shouldn’t have been unlocked, natural disaster or otherwise. He’d even been prepared to pick the lock or break the knob, that was how unusual it was.
Still, he was a bit preoccupied with trying to save his own ass to pay attention to the finer details. He slammed open the door, ducking inside the tiny space and swinging the door shut.
His dark eyes took several seconds to adjust to the dim lighting. When he could finally see well enough to make out shapes beyond boxes and lines, he—
“What the fuck?” Antinous yelped as he came face to face with the little wolf.
The prince looked similarly dismayed, sinking backwards and as far away from the suitor as possible.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he spluttered, arms folding defensively across his chest. “Get out of here!”
Antinous’ bad mood further soured. He couldn’t believe it. Out of all the rooms in the entire damn palace, he’d managed to find the one housing the most irritating person known to man.
Prince Telemachus of Ithaca; resident mama’s boy and supreme pain in the ass. From the day they’d first met, which was over five years ago, now, Telemachus had expressed his distaste. And he expressed it loudly, with gusto. The impertinent little shit never passed up an opportunity to make his disgust with the suitor known, and the feeling was mutual.
If the little wolf had good qualities, he did an excellent job at keeping them safely undercover. Naive, rude, whiny, and helpless. That was just to name a few of the traits the prince did show on a daily basis.
Antinous returned the his biting look with matching intensity. “Oh, and go get fucked over by the storm? I don’t think so.”
“I was here first!” Telemachus ground his teeth down, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. “Besides, you’re a decent swimmer, right? You’ll live.”
Oh, he really knew how to get under Antinous’ skin. In fact, he was an expert at it. Nothing and no one could piss the suitor off quicker than the royal brat could. It was one of the few things he seemed to have a talent for. And normally he might entertain the little wolf’s antics, but he really wasn’t in the mood. Besides, this was life or death. And if Telemachus got washed away in the storm…
Well. That’d be one more nuisance out the way.
He grabbed Telemachus roughly by the arm. The prince tried in vain to wrench away his fingers, but Antinous was far bigger and far stronger. That was one of the things that amused him most about the little wolf. He acted so big and bad, but really, he was easy pickings for any one of the suitors.
He was short, and while he certainly wasn’t out of shape, he was built lean and light. He resembled his mother in many ways, all dark hair and blue eyes and smatters of beauty marks. Overall, his appearance (and personality, in the suitor’s humble opinion) leaned further toward feminine than masculine. Perhaps that was just a side effect of being raised fatherless.
And so it wasn’t a stretch to say that Antinous could fling him around with ease. It also wasn’t a stretch to say that he took advantage of this fact on the daily.
“Let go of me, you fucking brute!” The little wolf clawed at his arm, actions fueled by fierce indignance.
Antinous did not, of course, let go. Rather, he opted to yank Telemachus hard over himself and throw him against the door. The impact, by all means, should’ve opened the door. It should’ve sent him tumbling out into the storm so Antinous could have some peace and quiet.
It did not.
Both men stared at each other, united in a brief moment of confusion. Telemachus’ chest heaved slightly as he rubbed his shoulder, breaking the illusion. “Asshole.”
Antinous didn’t dignify that with a response. He reached around the little wolf, jiggling the door knob. It didn’t budge. Cold dread washed over him.
“No.” He jangled it again. Same result. “No. No! You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Telemachus huffed, shoving his hand away. “Relax, dumbass. I have the key.”
Antinous sneered at him. “Do I look like I have all day? Take it out.”
“You’re so fucking bossy, you know that?” The prince rolled his eyes before groping somewhere behind him. Then to the side. Then somewhere down the front of his chiton. And then he ran his hand across the floor with a growing sense of urgency. And when that failed, he went completely still.
“So, uh… new development.” A nervous giggle escaped his lips alongside a sheepish smile. “Wanna take a guess?”
The suitor buried his face in his hands. He felt as though he was going through all five stages of grief in the grand span of five consecutive seconds. “Don’t even say it.”
“I lost it.”
“I said don’t say it!” He slammed his fist down on the ground beside him. “How fucking stupid do you have to be to lose a key like that? You had literally one job!”
“Well, it’s not like I did it on purpose.” Telemachus glared at him. “Maybe if someone hadn’t flung me around completely unprovoked, I’d still have it.”
“Unprovoked? Your face is provoking me.”
“My face? Have you looked in the mirror recently? You have the most punchable face I’ve ever seen!”
Antinous nearly lunged at him right then and there—he’d show him what a truly punchable face looked like—but stopped himself at the last moment. He had to think smart. If they didn’t find this key, he’d be stuck waiting out the storm with the most detestable person in all of Ithaca. That was, if they both got out alive.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Okay. Just shut up for a minute, will you? Help me find this thing.”
“Why? So you can force me out into the hurricane?” The little wolf barked out a laugh. “Yeah, alright. Good luck with that.”
Antinous slowly turned toward him. He could barely disguise the way his eye ticked in aggravation. “No. You’re going to help me find it so I don’t tear out your teeth and force feed them to you one by one.”
Telemachus settled back against the door, arms flexing slightly as he crossed them harder. A single eyebrow raised. “I’d like to see you try.”
Sometimes, Antinous had to question just where he found the nerve. He had to give it to the stubborn mutt; he had grit. Maybe more than was in his best interests, but it was there. And unfortunately, he also had an uncanny knack for calling people’s bluff.
Yes, the suitor was self proclaimed to be a shitty person. No, he wasn’t entirely opposed to violence. And no, he did not actually intend on pulling Telemachus’ teeth out. That sounded disgusting, and also like more trouble than it was worth. Though, of course, he wasn’t going to admit that so easily.
Antinous counted down backwards from ten. He would not kill the prince. He would not kill the prince. He would not kill the prince.
“Right, that’s what I thought.”
And suddenly the teeth pulling threat seemed like a better idea than ever. He decked the little wolf in the face, who promptly smacked him back, and then they were wrestling each other blindly.
It was a tight space, so with the flailing of their limbs, things quickly began toppling down. With a growl, Telemachus shoved Antinous back into a shelf and, a momet later, something heavy hit Antinous on the head. He cursed, his vision briefly blacking out for who knows how long. When he blinked his eyes open once again, he was on his back with the little wolf on top of him.
Said wolf was not so lightly smacking the side of his face. A flicker of relief appeared then dissipated as Antinous squinted up at him.
“Y’know,” Telemachus said, “I thought I’d actually killed you for a minute there. Best minute of my life.”
“I would never die to a piece of pottery.” Antinous rubbed at his head. His vision flickered unsteadily as his headache increased tenfold. So this was a little embarassing. “Alright, fine, we can call it a truce. For now.”
The prince simpered smugly. “Are you really calling the shots here? Don’t forget who just got knocked out.”
“Yeah, by a vase, not by you, asshole.” He attempted to sit up, but light as he may be, Telemachus’ body resting on his midsection stopped him. He gave him a dirty look. “And would you get off of me now?”
“What’s the magic word?”
Antinous glowered. “You do know I could still beat your ass, right?”
Telemachus laughed. He felt oddly hypnotized by the sound; it wasn’t very often he heard it. “Not from this angle you can’t.”
He cracked his knuckes. “Care to test that theory?”
He giggled again. Why was he so damn giggly all the sudden? One partial victory and the little wolf was already acting this high and mighty? It irritated him.
Or, that was what he told himself. He was definitely annoyed, but there was something else there as well. In all honesty, it was difficult to place the way that sound and that teasing expression made him feel.
“I’m good, thanks.” Telemachus slid off of him, settling in the narrow space beside Antinous’ body.
Sidenote, was the room getting smaller by the minute? He could’ve sworn their thighs weren’t pressed together before. He decided to blame it on the blooming headache taking over the side of his face.
“So.” The prince didn’t allow him even a moment to recoup himself, drumming his fingers excitedly against the wall. “What’s the plan?”
Antinous sighed. “Try not to die? It’s a storm, little wolf, there’s not much we can do besides wait it out.”
Telemachus side eyed him as though he were the dumb one. “Well, I know that, smart guy. I’m speaking in regards to the water leaking under the door at this very moment. You know, the telltale sign of flooding right next to your foot?”
The suitor sat up in record time, staring down at the entrance to the treasury. Sure enough, there was water flowing in. He blinked several times as though to make sure his sight wasn’t betraying him.
It was not.
“Oh my gods,” he said. “We’re going to die.”
“Maybe it’s just a bit of rainwater?” Telemachus tried, as though to cheer him up. Why he would do such a thing? The gods only knew.
But fuck it, what did it matter? He needed to focus. The little wolf had a point, after all. It could’ve just been a bit of rain from outside that’d gotten in, but if that was the case, there definitely shouldn’t be enough to make an entire puddle.
And then there was the more obvious hole in his logic. The area of the castle they were in didn’t have any nearby windows. That meant if there was rain in the hallway, it could only be the result of flooding. He kneaded at the steady pulsing at the side of his head.
“Nice sentiment, but no. It’s definitely just plain flooded.”
“Up to the third floor?” Telemachus shifted, clearly antsy. “And in such little time?”
Antinous sighed again. He was doing that more and more these days. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“We could try breaking down the door.”
“Have you already forgotten what I just said?” The suitor shot him a detrimental look. “There aren’t any windows on our floor. We’d have to go downstairs to escape, and unless you plan on swimming through the entire castle until you can reach an exit, that’s not going to work.”
This time, it was the prince who dropped his face into his hands.
“I can’t believe we’re going to die here,” he mourned, then grimaced, adding, “together.”
“Believe me, little wolf.” Antinous said, dipping his head back onto the shelf behind him. “No one is more upset about this occurence than I.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, arms and thighs pressed close together, listening to the faint howl of wind and pitter-patter of rain. Finally, Telemachus spoke.
“No, I think I’m more upset.”
He grunted in disbelief. “Are we really doing this right now?”
“I mean, arguing with you is a pretty nice distraction from my imminent doom, so yes.” The prince smiled prettily again. “I’m one-hundred percent the superior company here. You’re lucky to have me.”
Wait. Backtrack, who cared about the other blasphemy—prettily? Where had that come from? He hated this man. He hated his annoying face, and his annoying attitude, and most importantly, he was in Antinous’ way!
The suitor’s one and only goal was to, you know, be a suitor. To the little brat’s mother. He was trying to become king, damn it! And he did not, would not, could not, and refused to think anything about Telemachus was pretty or endearing.
No. Way. In. Hell.
“Hello? Earth to the loathsome person on my left?” Telemachus waved his hand in front of his face. “Don’t tell me you’re ignoring me again. I thought we had a truce!”
“Yeah, a truce not to kill each other, not to be all buddy-buddy.”
Good. Distance was good. He just had to act like he’d acted before, like enemies—and it wouldn’t be acting, because they were definitely still enemies. Coexisting alongside your enemy because you’re locked in a tiny room together about to drown to death is an unavoidable situation! It doesn’t mean you’re friends, just that you’re tolerating each other for the time being.
He repeated this in his head like a mantra.
“We’re literally going to die in, like, a few hours, tops.” Telemachus rolled his eyes. “Would it kill you any faster to exercise a little goodwill in your last moments?”
“It’s possible,” he retorted, tone dry.
The little wolf snorted, even though he’d only been about half joking. “Right. You know, you’re not as detestable as I thought you were.”
“Why? Because I haven’t made a move to pull out your teeth yet? If that’s the case, just know it’s still on the table.”
“No, stupid.” The prince elbowed him in the side with more force than was strictly necessary. “I mean, you’re definitely grouchy and unlikeable, and you are still trying to hook up with my mom, and all your friends are cowardly jerks.”
“I’m failing to see where the not detestable part comes in.”
“That’s because you keep interrupting me. I liked you a lot better when you were unconscious.”
He groaned. “Can you get to the point already?”
“Sure. As I was saying, other than all that, you’re not so bad. It’s kind of entertaining when you try so hard to be mean, you know?”
Antinous gave him a deadpan look. “No. I most certainly do not. And I’m not trying to be mean, I am being mean. There’s a difference.”
“If you have to convince someone of how awful you are, maybe you’re just not as frightening as you think.” Telemachus shrugged. “I know it’ll hurt your feelings, but I’m just not that scared of you. Maybe you’re just not mean enough.” He paused, shrugging once again. “That’s what I think, anyway. And that was a compliment, by the way, so you could at least thank me for it.”
The suitor scowled. Was he really too nice? No, he knew that wasn’t true—after all, no one besides the little wolf had ever expressed such an opinion of him. And for good reason, too. He was admittedly manipulative, brazenly self centered, and was literally in the middle of trying to steal the prince’s rightful place on the throne. That just made it all the more ridiculous that Telemachus would dare imply he was ‘not so bad’.
And to imply he wasn’t frightening? He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t bothered by the fact that the shrimpiest man in the house was unphased by him. That was just insulting. Even some of the other suitors were wary to get on his bad side! How could it be he’d failed at intimidating the one person he actually needed to!?
It didn’t make any sense. Was not committing murder the second they’d been locked in together all it took for Antinous to be considered ‘not bad’? Sure, he hadn’t killed the little wolf, but that was only because he didn’t have a good reason to. He wasn’t just going to go around terrorizing people aimlessly; who really had time for such behavior? He only got seriously violent when it was strictly necessary for his plans. And right then, it wasn’t necessary.
That was the only reason. He did not need to be thinking about it this hard, either, as the brief existential crisis was making his headache come back full force.
Antinous shook his head, snapping himself out of his ruminations. Conversation. Focus.
“Was it really? Because it sounded more like an insult to me.”
“Maybe you just insist on taking everything everyone says in the worst way possible.” The little wolf reclined, sliding down the shelf and laying comfortably on the floor. As per usual, he was completely relaxed even after completely throwing the other man for a loop. “You’re something of a pessimist in nature.”
“Or maybe you’re just too optimistic.” Antinous followed suit, sliding down beside him. He didn’t know why he did it. It just felt right. “You’re like a dumb little puppy. You just run around thinking the world is sunshine and rainbows when it’s anything but.”
“I definitely wouldn’t go that far.” Telemachus shook his head derisively. “I know the world sucks; I mean, we’re literally about to meet our demise. I just don’t wallow in my own self pity like you do.”
“Rude.”
“What would you call it, then?”
“I don’t know.” Antinous huffed a laugh. “Facing reality?”
“And that,” Telemachus declared, tapping him lightly on the chest, “is why you’re so miserable all the time. There’s nothing but cobwebs and darkness in your brain, and you make a conscious effort to keep it that way. I rest my case.”
“If that’s what you’d like to believe.”
Antinous really wished he would cut it out with the psychoanalyzing. Partly because he was hitting a little too close to the mark with each word, and partly because he really didn’t appreciate how much this was starting to feel like an interrogation.
And even if they were throwing jabs at each other every five seconds, there was no venom or genuine distaste behind it. It felt more like petty bickering between two friends, and that wasn’t right at all. He was Antinous, and this was Telemachus, son of the queen whose power he looked to steal, which made them enemies who loved to hate each other.
Maybe if he kept on repeating himself, it’d make it more true.
“Look at us,” the little wolf yawned as though having read his mind, “getting along and shit.”
Absolutely not, he wanted to say. Then again, they were, objectively, getting along. He settled for silence instead.
The yawn was what caused it to finally occur to the suitor that some time must’ve passed. The room was cooler, beginning to border on just plain cold. That, combined with the steady rainfall and dreary atmosphere, made sleep quite enticing. He suddenly felt very tired as well.
He glanced at the water seeping under the door. There was more of it, now, and it was stretching into the back of the storage room where they were sitting. One thing was for sure: if they planned on surviving this, only one person could rest their eyes at a time.
Antinous unhooked his cloak from around his shoulders and used his foot to shove it up against the gap, soaking up the moisture.
“Go to sleep if you’re so exhausted,” he said. “That would at least give me some peace and quiet.”
Telemachus glanced up at him, eyes half lidded. “I’m really not that tired.”
“You definitely are.”
“Am not.”
This was childish. He should not engage. He partook in it anyway.
“Are so.”
“Am not!”
“Are so!”
“Am not!”
“You know what else you’re not? An honest person who’s pleasant to be around.” Antinous folded his arms behind his head and closed his eye. If he was going to go out, he’d much rather die in his sleep. “But fine, suit yourself. How long has it been, anyway?”
“Do I look like a chronograph to you?”
“Do I look like I have the patience to go back and forth with you? And you say I’m the one picking fights.” The suitor exhaled forcefully, turning onto his side and trying as hard as possible to ignore warmth pressed against his back. “You’re on flood watch, by the way.”
Telemachus’ leg was bouncing behind him. That was another thing about the little wolf, he never seemed capable of staying still. It was deeply irritating, especially when he was trying to sleep. Or it should’ve been, but Antinous didn’t find himself feeling too bothered by the excessive movement. It was almost soothing.
Which was definitely just because he was in a dangerous situation, so of course it was natural to feel soothed by someone else’s presence. It had nothing to do with the specific person. It was human nature to seek company. It had nothing to do with either of them personally.
“What am I even supposed to be watching for?” the prince asked.
“Flooding, duh. You’re not the brightest, are you?”
“Alright, allow me to rephrase.” Telemachus’ leg shook harder. “What exactly am I supposed to do when I observe the flooding?”
Good question. Honestly, Antinous couldn’t be bothered to give much of a fuck whether they lived or died; It was kind of out of their hands at that point. And this entire situation was really taking the piss out of him to the point where maybe a swift death would be merciful. But, Telemachus seemed pretty concerned about it, so he decided to humor him.
“I don’t know, little wolf. Start praying to Poseidon, maybe. And if that doesn’t work, wake me up and we can pray together instead.”
“Real funny,” he griped.
“Wasn’t joking.” the suitor closed his eye once again.
“Okay. Fine.” The vibration halted for a second before swiftly starting up again. “I’ve never prayed to Poseidon. You know what he likes?”
Antinous stifled the urge to groan. It looked as though sleep wouldn’t be coming as easily for him as he’d hoped. “No, I don’t know what he likes. Water, presumably?”
“Offering water to the god of the sea seems a bit redundant.”
This time he let his irritation be known. “You’ll figure it out. You’re the one refusing to go to sleep, so that seems like your problem.”
He could practically feel the face Telemachus was no doubt making at him. He ignored it. Eventually, the prince heaved a sigh and shifted away from him, no doubt rummaging through the stray artifacts to find something suitable.
The little wolf was an idiot, but he wasn’t so dumb as to somehow mess up an offering. Really, what could feasibly go wrong? He could allow his eyes to close, just for a few minutes…
He didn’t know just how much time passed between when he’d first drifted off to sleep and when he awoke. He did know, however, that he was laying in enough water to have completely seeped through the back of his clothes and leave his hair soaked. Slowly, he sat up. He took in the treasury, flooded now with several inches of water.
Even slower, he turned to face Telemachus.
And then he promptly regretted looking. Somehow, he was in a worse state than Antinous, despite being firmly on his feet. It looked as though he’d had a bucket of water dumped on top of him, which didn’t make any sense either, but that wasn’t the main issue.
The issue was the way his wet clothes were clinging to his skin amorously. Antinous could quite literally see a mole high on his hip through the lightly transparent through fabric. And that was a problem, because suddenly the image of that stupid mole was seared onto the inside of his eyelid, and he knew in advance he wouldn’t he able to stop thinking about it.
Look, Antinous wasn’t stupid, and he knew who he was. He’d slept with both men and women, and he’d long ago come to the conclusion that if someone was alluring enough, it didn’t matter the exact anatomy of what he was sucking.
That being said, there was a difference between fucking around with his fellow suitors and fucking around with the SON of the QUEEN with whom he was supposed to be courting. That was one line he shouldn’t, couldn’t, and would not ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER cross.
He wasn’t interested in Telemachus, sexually or otherwise. He wasn’t! He did not think the annoying airhead who made his life in the castle ten times more difficult was attractive in any way, shape, or form.
Okay, so he definitely was. And he certainly did. Blame it on proximity, or on the fact that the prince did, unfortunately, have some redeeming qualities, which were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. And also on the mole.
This day just kept getting worse.
“I think I may have upset Poseidon somehow.” The little wolf chuckled in shock, reaching up to wring out a lock of hair. Antinous hated how unaware he seemed to be of his own appeal. It made his skin crawl. He decided to convince himself it was with disgust. “I’m pretty sure he just tried to drown me personally.”
“Well, isn’t your luck just terrific,” Antinous mumbled absently. He was more focused on envisioning on the most unsexy things he could think of to reroute his blood circulation. “On the bright side, at the rate the water is rising, we won’t be stuck getting on each other’s nerves much longer.”
Telemachus sighed. “Don’t start. My mom is out there, somewhere, and she’ll be pissed if I wind up dead.” He wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. “And also my dog. Dogs can swim pretty well, right?”
Antinous grabbed his own cloak from the foot of the door, wringing out the soggy mess. “Not well enough to escape weather like this.”
The prince sighed even harder, plopping back down onto the floor. “Great. I can’t believe we’re really going to die here.”
The suitor watched the water rise steadily, gaining a centimeter or so every few seconds. It was confirmed; at this rate, they were definitely dead within the next hour.
Antinous was really trying to feel more concerned about that prospect, but with the raging ache in his temples and the promise of sweet release? It could be worse, he supposed. Granted, he was a little bitter about having wasted his late teens and early twenties chasing an old lady for prestige he’d never get, but his point stood. And anyways, there were worse ways to die; worse people to be stuck with.
There! He could admit it. Telemachus wasn’t that bad. Try as he might to get under the suitor’s skin, he wasn’t awful company. He was sort of funny, too, if unintentionally. And there was no denying his sharpness or cunning, even though Antinous could tell he tried to keep his intelligence under wraps.
They were really more similar than one would think. Opposing interests, but similar methods. Maybe that was why they’d despised each other from the very first glance.
They’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Antinous took every chance he could get to antagonize Telemachus with goading insults or stupid nicknames. That was how ‘little wolf’ had come to be. Telemachus wasn’t much better, fighting fire with fire and never missing an opportunity to make a dig at him.
He didn’t really know why they’d chosen each other. Perhaps it was because they were closest in age, the suitor being only a few years older. Or maybe the prince just needed someone to direct his aggravation at, and Antinous just so happened to be the suitor least likely to snap him in half at the slightest bother.
They squabbled on the daily, and of course people took notice. Antinous remembered other suitors questioning their heightened animosity toward each other. They’d asked if Telemachus was being too much of a thorn in his side, if he should be taken care of, so to speak.
Antinous had told them no.
At some point, they’d stopped even questioning it.
That was for the best, probably, because if they’d prompted him further, he wouldn’t have an answer. They weren’t friends, and they didn’t get along, but Antinous couldn’t deny he enjoyed their interactions. Life in the castle was boring, anyways, surrounded by men in their forties who couldn’t want less to do with him. And so even if their relationship was built off mutual loathing, it had its merits.
Antinous ran his fingers through the mess of coins and riches around them. It was a shame they’d never make it out of here, or he would’ve pocketed some.
“If you’d like, I can just knock you out so you don’t have to worry about it anymore,” he said, only half kidding.
Telemachus glanced up at him, lips twitching upwards. “I’ll consider it.”
The water rose further as they sat in silence. Antinous’ legs, which were stretched out in front of him, were completely underwater. He was submerged to his waist, and Telemachus to his chest. He could see the prince growing visibly more concerned with each passing moment.
He finally stood. “I’m bored.”
Antinous stood as well, prying his wet clothes off his skin. He was certain Telemachus had to be getting an eyeful with the way his darker skin stood strikingly out from beneath the gradually more transparent fabric. He could only bring himself to feel slightly self conscious.
“I’d say that’s to be expected.”
The little wolf huffed. “Well, obviously. That’s why we should do something.”
Antinous did not like the sound of that, especially when he could still see that mole in the edges of his vision. That, combined with Telemachus’ chest peeking through his clothes, was all a little too much for him.
“Something like what?” he focused on keeping his voice steady. He was not about to embarass himself in his final moments.
“Like a game.”
Antinous raised an eyebrow. “You want to spend your last hour playing a game with someone you hate? Interesting.”
“Firstly, I don’t hate you, I dislike you.” Telemachus waggled his finger. “There’s a difference. Besides, there are worse suitors to be drown alongside. Like Eurymachus.” He made a face. “Now that’s someone I hate. But yeah, why not?”
The suitor stared down the little wolf. The way his hands were clenching and unclenching nervously wasn’t at all subtle. It was clear as day this was just a feeble attempt at making a distraction for himself.
And because Antinous was becoming weaker willed by the minute, he felt a little bad. Okay, a lot bad. If neither of them were making it out of this room alive, what harm would being a bit nicer do? Besides, Telemachus starting to panic—or worse, despair—wouldn’t make things any easier for him.
Fine. It couldn’t hurt.
“Alright,” he exhaled tiredly. “What do you have in mind?”
Telemachus’ face blanked. He chuckled nervously. “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.”
He dropped his face back into his hands, disappointed but unsurprised. “You’re hopeless. Why bother asking, then?”
“Well, I didn’t think you’d agree!” The prince shot him a dirty look. “Since you’re so smart, you think of something.”
“There’s literally no game in all of Ithaca which could be played in a room the size of a closet with two people in the middle of a flood.”
“Fine.” Telemachus shifted again, their forearms brushing against each other. “How about two truths and a lie, then?”
The water rose higher. It was up to Antinous’ calves, now, and the other man’s thigh. Telemachus shivered markedly at the cold, his fingers drumming nervously against each other.
“Hey,” Antinous said. “Calm down. Freaking out doesn’t solve anything.”
“How am I not supposed to freak out when I’m literally about to drown?” The little wolf’s voice raised and then dipped back to a lower tone as he caught himself. “Sorry.”
“Look, let’s just play your game, alright? Your head’s still way above the water. It’s fine.”
“For now.” Telemachus hugged himself around the torso. “Being short is about to be the death of me.”
“I can give you a piggyback ride if it makes you feel better.”
He laughed despite himself, thin shoulders shaking. “Damn. That vase must’ve hit you pretty hard in the head for you to be trying to save my life rather than end it.”
“Ha-ha, real creative.” Antinous rolled his eye, struggling to hold back a smile. “You’ve got me all wrong, little wolf. What’s the point in trying to kill you when Poseidon’s going to do it for me?”
“You think you’re so funny.” Telemachus shook his head, still grinning slightly. “I seriously don’t know what I did to offend him.”
“Didn’t I say something about you having a face that provokes people?”
“Oh shut up. My face is perfectly fine.”
“Clearly no one else thinks so.”
“Are you saying I’m ugly?”
Absolutely not. He was the exact opposite of ugly, Antinous’ brain unhelpfully supplied. Even more unhelpfully, he realized that throughout their dispute, they’d gotten closer and closer together to the point where the tips of their noses were almost touching. Telemachus’ face, which was definitely not ugly, was so close to his own. And if he really wanted to, he could…
No. That wasn’t even a line of thought worth pursuing because he did NOT want to do anything. The suitor pulled back, finally breaking the electric eye contact between them.
“Are you going to start?” He asked, doing everything he could not to make eye contact. If he allowed himself to succumb to delusion, he might even say that Telemachus looked almost disappointed.
The other man cleared his throat, leaning back as well. Not that there was much of anywhere to go, so he only succeeded in barely widening the gap between their bodies.
Telemachus blinked several times. And this time, Antinous knew he wasn’t imagining the flash of longing on his face. Not when he bit his lip like that.
He could kiss him. He certainly wanted to, and he wasn’t so blind not to see how the tension went both ways. But it would only needlessly complicate things. If Antinous pinned him against the wall and took his mouth like he desired to, it’d shatter the delicate balance between friends and enemies they’d accidentally struck. Not to mention the aftermath. Who knew how the little wolf would react? Would he push him back, say he’d just been imagining things? Or would he use his tongue and pull him closer?
Antinous licked his suddenly dry lips. No telling, really. He wasn’t interested in finding out which outcome would win, and even less interested in the inevitable awkward silence that’d follow.
Then again, if he didn’t take the opportunity as it arrived, he might just drive himself crazy with want. And he’d die never having tasted Telemachus’ smart mouth. Discreetly, he wondered whether kissing was the only way to shut him up.
It was a losing game, really. This came as no surprise to Antinous—nothing ever ended well once you dragged royalty into it—but it dismayed him all the same.
At least Telemachus’ mind seemed to be taken off his anxiety. His foot tapped rapidly against the floor, causing his thigh to jiggle slightly in a way that made Antinous have to squeeze his eye shut.
“Right. Okay.” The prince murmured. Even with his eye closed, the suitor could sense he was looking anywhere but at him. “Sure, I’ll go first. Um…”
He paused for a long time. Longer than was necessary.
Antinous elbowed him. “It takes you that long to think of two facts about yourself?”
“Shut up.” Telemachus’ face reddened slightly. “I’m trying to think of something obscure. Something you couldn’t guess.”
“It can’t be that hard. I hardly know anything about you as is.”
The prince shot him a deprecating look. “Well, hardly knowing anything is more than most of the people in this castle can say. Also, my life just isn’t that interesting.”
Antinous understand that, to a degree. Ithaca was, with all due respect, a pretty plain island. And the palace didn’t exactly have much going on, besides the rare appearance of Penelope. And when he said rare, he meant it. The last time he’d seen her in person was months ago.
There just wasn’t much to do. Wake up, try to woo the queen, fail, spar, go to sleep, and repeat the cycle. At this point, the suitor almost wished Odysseus would return. If only so he could have a good reason to finally go home and return to minding his business.
Sure, being king had sounded good in theory. It still did. But it was clear to anyone with thinking capabilities beyond that of a toddler’s that Penelope had no intention of choosing a suitor. She’d been weaving the same burial shrowd for over a year, for fuck’s sake. At this point, everyone’d be better off cutting their losses and leaving her alone.
Of course, as he was under his father’s orders, Antinous couldn’t simply do that. Not unless he wanted to be thrown onto the streets and scorned by his hometown the second he returned.
He’d promised them the next time they saw his face, he’d be royalty. He’d said, verbatim, that he’d either return as king or not at all.
In hindsight, he probably should’ve thought that through a little more.
“Okay.” The little wolf nodded. “I’ve got it.”
“Go on.”
“One.” He held up a finger, “I don’t know how to weave. Two, my favorite color is red. Three, I’m friends with a goddess.”
Antinous blinked slowly at him. “I feel like this is a trap.”
Telemacus smiled in a manner likely meant to seem innocent, but in the present circumstances, came across as conniving. “Maybe, maybe not. No hints! What do you think?”
Then again, he also seemed like the kind of person to somehow have personal relations to a godly entity. He sighed. Maybe his lack of intimidation in regards to the prince was a blessing in disguise. The last thing he needed was to establish a serious conflict with the friend of a diety.
Though, he may have already done that.
Water under the bridge at this point. Or, in the context of their predicament, the water was sort of just everywhere. That being said, getting struck down was probably a better fate than the one soon to come.
“First one’s the lie,” he stated. “Am I right, or am I right?”
“You are.” The little wolf smiled again. It seemed genuine. “Wasn’t that fun?”
“Not really, now that I know I’ve been getting on the wrong side of some god’s favorite mortal all this time.” He chuckled in disbelief. “And you say your life isn’t interesting.”
“It isn’t, beyond that.” Telemachus’ eyes flitted down to watch the steadily rising water once again. It’d now made it up to the prince’s abdomen. His face faltered slightly, the smile drooping. “And, now that I’m about to die, there’s not much of an opportunity for things to get better.”
Antinous couldn’t help but feel similarly. Dying at twenty-five was bad enough, but to do so in a flood, where their bodies might never be found? Now they were never getting across the River Styx.
There wasn’t much use dwelling on it. The water was rising faster now, to an unnatural degree. It was swirling up with enthusiasm, human in a way water wasn’t supposed to be, climbing nearly to Telemachus’ shoulders. He looked up at him, and it was then that Antinous realized he was crying.
“I don’t want to die,” he choked out.
Something in Antinous’ chest clenched uneasily. He hated it when people cried in front of him. He never knew what to say or where to look, and he’d never really tried to extend much sympathy.
It was a little different now, though. The odd feeling wasn’t because due to his own discomfort at the tears, but rather discomfort at Telemachus’ distress. He didn’t like him. They were enemies. Still, no one deserved to go out in such a desolate state.
Alright, some people definitely did. He was one such person. But the little wolf’s greatest crime was being sort of a pain in his neck, and that certainly wasn’t deserving of an ending like this.
“Okay,” he breathed. “I’d love to say that we’ll be fine, but we probably won’t, so I won’t waste our time. Just—you’re going to drive yourself crazy like this. You’re driving me crazy like this.”
Telemachus wiped at his tears, looking at him hazily through the blur. “Right. So sorry my crisis is bothering you.”
“That’s not what I—“ he caught himself as his voice pushed higher. He wasn’t trying to get in a screaming match in his final moments. “Alright, fuck the talking, then. We both suck at talking. Every conversation with you makes me want to shoot myself in the face with a bow ten times over.”
The little wolf could definitely see exactly what Antinous was trying to do: distract him. He must have appreciated it in some way, because his mouth quirked up a little bit in response. “Likewise.”
But Antinous could say with certainty that the prince couldn’t see what was coming next. Inwardly, he psyched himself up. It wasn’t weird. It was just him exercising some good will before the end of his life, choosing to be a little nicer and to offer some comfort. It wasn’t weird. It didn’t mean anything.
It shouldn’t be this awkward; hell, he’d had a less mortifying time coming on to people in all senses of the phrase. He told himself to get it together.
“So what I’m saying is…”
Against his own will, he hesitated. Was he really about to do this? Alright, no, fuck it, he was doing this. They were dying soon after anyways. Dead bodies couldn’t feel embarassment.
He cleared his throat. “Do you want a hug?”
Telemachus looked at him as though he’d grown a second head. On the bright side, it did immediately halt his tears. “What?”
“You heard me.” Antinous folded his arms across his chest. He’d already done it, now, so there was no use in acting shy about it.
“No—I just—why?” The prince flourished his arms wildly, unintentionally sending water flying in his confusion. “I know I said you weren’t that bad, but this is insanely out of character, even for you.”
“I’m only offering because you’re flipping out and we’re going to die, if you haven’t forgotten. Don’t get used to it.”
Telemachus looked at him strangely. He looked for so long that Antinous began to feel vaguely uncomfortable.
Finally, he began to giggle hysterically. It started out unexpectedly, a barely-there quake in his shoulders, until blooming into an all out cackle. The suitor would usually feel slighted for being laughed at so openly, but in this situation, he decided to give it a pass.
Between gasps of breath, the little wolf eventually rediscovered his ability to speak. “Alright, sure.” He grinned. “Why not?”
And then they were hugging. It was predictably weird, but their combined body heat provided a much needed reprieve from the constant coldness of the water they were submerged in. Telemachus’ arms dipped low around his waist, and his face was pretty much shoved into his chest.
It was nice. Weird—it would never not be weird—but pleasant all the same. They didn’t let go at the socially acceptable three second mark, because at this point, they were long past what was socially acceptable. Or what made sense.
Antinous couldn’t remember the last time he’d held someone or been held, which was a little sad, but he digressed. The prince’s head served as a decent chin rest. And his hair was soft, and his skin was warm despite the icy chill surrounding them, and it was nice. They probably could’ve stayed there forever, if not for the fact that the water was up to Telemachus’ neck. They didn’t exactly have forever.
He pulled away only slightly, just enough to look the little wolf in the eye.
“Just so we’re clear,” he said dryly, “I don’t like you.”
“Mhm,” Telemachus responded, still not letting go of him. His eyelashes flitted as he glanced down at the water just beneath his chin. “Any more inspiring last words?”
“No,” he said. His eyes were trained on the other man’s lips. One last distraction. “Actually, yes.”
They held the eye contact. They were about to die and they were making homoerotic eye contact. This was ridiculous.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Go on,” Telemachus prompted.
“I don’t like you, but I understand why someone would. You’re not an awful person to be around, and if I had to drown to death with one person in this entire castle once again…”
“Then it’d be me.” He sounded amused.
“Yes.” Antinous smirked, suddenly unable to hold in the how hysterical he was finding the whole situation. He didn’t know whether to laugh or start crying at their misfortune. “One last thing, litte wolf. Since we are about to die.”
He sounded self assured, as though he knew exactly what was coming. Maybe he did. It seemed they were on the same page more and more often these days. “And that would be?”
This time, he didn’t hesitate. Antinous pressed their mouths together before Telemachus could even finish his thought. His lips were slightly chapped, but still soft and sweet.
All things considered, it was a fairly shitty kiss. They were standing in over five feet of water, soaking wet and freezing cold, about to suffocate to death. Not only that, but it was shared between two people who could only stand each other when literally forced to. A suitor and the royalty he sought to replace, making out in a sorry excuse of a treasury on the brink of death.
There was irony in there, somewhere. Antinous didn’t care to find it.
Despite all this, Telemachus didn’t shove him away. Instead he leaned into it, kissing back with even more fervor than the suitor had led with. Antinous tilted his face upwards, away from the rising tides and into whatever the fuck was happening between them. His fingers grazed under the water, Telemachus choking as it rose, at last, up to his mouth and just a little too far—
And suddenly, the water pulled back. Not organically, not as though a different tide had stirred or some other natural phenomena was at play, but like a dog being yanked back with its leash. It curled—yes curled—away from Telemachus’ body.
The sudden jerking motion of the water created a small bubble of dry air around them. Telemachus broke away from the kiss, stumbling back and looking around himself in confusion. When he moved, the water moved as well, keeping a good several inches of distance between them.
“What the fuck,” the prince muttered.
Antinous was inclined to agree.
Not yet finished, the water began to swirl violently. It sucked into itself, funneling back under the crack in the door and draining the room so quickly the suitor had to question if it’d ever really been there at all. The sound of the storm outside had halted. The several feet of water had completely disappeared, leaving them on dry land, albeit still sopping wet.
Their eyes met once again. A common truth immediately descended upon both men in the room, and this truth was worse than any supernatural hurricane.
They’d coexisted. They’d cooperated. They’d… kissed.
And now they were still very much alive. Alive and staring blankly at each other, each wondering what their next move could possibly even be. It was a great question. Antinous figured the answer had to be suicide.
“Uh?” Telemachus started, only for the treasury door to bang open.
There stood Penelope, her long dress soaked and her face unruly with distress. Argos, their dog, stood not far behind her. She launched at her son, wrapping him in her arms.
“Oh, Telemachus!” she cried, ignoring Antinous as though he were nothing more than a figment of her imagination. “Gods, I can’t believe you’re safe! That storm, it was—extraordinary? Did you see how it all disappeared? Oh, thank goodness you’re safe!”
Their eyes met for the eightieth time in ten minutes over the queen’s shoulder. Telemachus looked distinctly overwhelmed, patting her back lightly in shock. Antinous averted his eyes and tried to act as though nothing had happened.
They did not just kiss. They did not just kiss. They did not just survive after kissing. This was not real. This was not his life.
Penelope at last released him, smiling in relief. Then her eyes fell on Antinous, and her face went dull.
“Suitor,” she acknowledged him blandly.
“My lady,” he said. He tried to think of a kind word or flattering phrase for her—he was still trying to win her hand, after all—but the only thing he could think of was Telemachus’ lips against his own. And the catastrophe that would no doubt ensue were anyone to find out.
Hell, by all means, the catastrophe was already there.
Whatever. He didn’t have the time nor the energy to try and appease her. The queen hated his guts, and her son was prettier, anyways, so that was fine by him.
He decided to leave it at that.
“He didn’t do anything to you, did he?” Penelope eyed Antinous with suspicion.
The litte wolf shook his head quickly. Way too quickly. And the way his cheeks reddened certainly was not the doing of Antinous’ imagination.
He was about as subtle as a brick to the face.
“No, mom, nothing like that!” He waved his hands wildly in a way that was meant to look calming but conveyed the exact opposite emotion. “Can you just—ah, that is to say—I need to talk to him! Alone, please.”
Penelope glanced between them. Antinous thanked every god he could think of (except Poseidon, he wasn’t getting shit after that storm fiasco) that the truth of what’d happened in the room was so outlandish she’d simply never guess it.
He was right. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she seemed otherwise in the dark. Slowly, she stepped back into the hall.
“Well,” she said uneasily, “I’ll be waiting, dear. You know where to find me.”
She strode down the hallway, snapping at the dog to follow whilst stealing a couple looks back. Both Antinous and Telemachus stood deadly still in the doorframe, waiting for her to be out of sight. When she at last turned the hallway corner, the litte wolf whirled to face him.
“You kissed me!”
“I thought we were going to die!”
“So what?” Telemachus floundered, an expression somewhere between anger, exasperation, and embarassment on his face. “Do you always go around kissing people in moments of peril? Why is that your first instinct!?”
“It’s—“ he cut himself off. There was exactly zero chance he was explaining himself out of this situation. So he turned to the next best thing: avoiding the question. “It was a mistake. Adrenaline, fear, whatever you want to call it; it didn’t mean anything. Now go and run along back to your mommy.”
He figured if he pushed enough of Telemachus’ buttons, the man would give up and just go away. Of course, because the prince was annoyingly stubborn and refused to ever take the damn hint, he did not.
“You’re so full of shit.” A finger jabbed into Antinous’ face. “You like me. Or at the very least, you think I’m cute enough to want your last moments spent making out with me!”
Antinous groaned. He really, really hated his lack of foresight. And he really hated that they had not, in fact, died. Because at the moment, he really, really, really would’ve preferred that outcome.
“Just shut up, little wolf.”
“Nope! Not until you admit it!” Telemachus drew himself to his full height, which wasn’t impressive at all, and placed his hands on his hips. “Say it. You think I’m cute.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Fine!” Antinous slammed his hand down on one of the waterlogged shelves beside him. It creaked under the weight of his arm. “You wanna know how I feel about you?”
Telemachus jumped at the impact before quickly gathering himself. “Yeah,” he said. His eyes were glued on Antinous’ mouth once again. “I do.”
“You’re an irritating, loudmouthed rambling idiot.” He stalked closer to the prince, pressing him back into a corner. “You never know what’s good for you. You never shut up. And you never know when to give it a fucking rest!” He gripped Telemachus’ chin, roughly angling his face up into his own. “You’ve done nothing but get in my way, you and your meddling mother both, and I ought to kill you where you stand!”
“And?” The prince swallowed roughly, sharp blue eyes still trained on his face. Despite being the prey in this situation, Telemachus’ gaze still managed to make the suitor feel as though he was being hunted. “Is that all?”
He considered it. He considered how they’d made each other laugh, the stupid conversations they’d held about nothing, the bickering, the sense of calm acceptance. He considered the way they’d embraced each other, and the joint knowledge of their complicated relationship.
He didn’t love Telemachus. They could hardly stand each other most of the time. But maybe that was how he liked it. A little bit of complexity. Someone who could match his wit and drive and be just as mean when it came down to it.
Antinous didn’t love him, but he liked him. And there was no denying the almost magnetic attraction between them. He’d certainly had thoughts before, scandalous things even he had the sense and decency never to admit aloud. He’d imagined what it’d be like to defile Telemachus under his hands, to ruin him for anyone else…
Granted, before this night, the thoughts had been few and far between. They’d only arisen at his most desperate and frustrated moments, but now? It was practically all he could think about. Making him laugh, making him smile, making him scream—
He wouldn’t just allow Antinous to have his way. They were the same in that regard, both stubborn to a fault. He imagined it’d be a constant fight for dominance, a back and forth similar to the arguments they were always having. The thought stirred interest deep in his gut.
But gods, he’d already made many a mistake that day. He’d already slipped far too much. He’d already allowed himself to become the slightest bit—alright, more than the slightest bit—attached.
Things would never work out between them, let there be no mistake. He was enticed by him, fascinated by him, and pulled in all too easily. But he was certainly not in love, and neither was Telemachus.
What they had was delicate and breakable, but also persistent in a way that made things difficult. It would never work. And unlike the young prince, he knew what was best for him.
He dropped Telemachus’ chin and stepped back, putting sufficient distance between them. “That’s all.”
The other man stumbled back at the abrupt loss of contact. The interest in his eyes faded, replaced by chagrin clear as day. “Really? That’s how it is?”
Antinous shrugged. “You don’t like me. I don’t like you. We’re enemies, we hate each other, and we made a small mistake in the heat of the moment. How about we keep it that way before we give ourselves one more thing to regret tomorrow, huh?”
“I won’t regret a thing. I remember what you said back there, and denial isn’t a good look on you, Antinous.”
He fought to keep his face neutral. He refused to give the little wolf the satisfaction of knowing the devastatingly accurate implication of his words. “Well, that’s you.”
Telemachus only glared. A muscle in his jaw ticked, and for a moment, Antinous thought he might try and punch him again. He didn’t. Instead, his face slowly relaxed, and he blew out a long breath from between his teeth.
“So you’re saying we forget about everything that happened tonight. Collectively.”
“Mhm.”
“And just pretend not to know what we both know. Forever.”
“Mhm.”
He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “I hate it when you spew bullshit. But if that’s how you want it,” he shot Antinous a critical stare, “then so be it. Consider all this officially forgotten.”
Antinous didn’t like the conflict stirring in his gut at the words. That was not a good sign. He did not feel that way. He would not stoop so low. He wouldn’t.
Telemachus turned, exiting through the still open door. He began to make his way down the corridor and out of sight, but paused halfway there. He looked back, lip still slightly curled. “Oh, and one more thing.”
He pushed down the rising feeling of warmth in his chest. This was not happening. Oh, he was going to vomit. That feeling, so unlike the one he experienced during good sex or a casual fling. The one he had avoided for over twenty years.
Holy karmic justice; right where it hurt. “And that would be?”
Telemachus’ eyes narrowed. “Stop hitting on my mom, you two timing slut. If you want to fuck a member of the royal family so bad, I’m right here.”
He laughed despite himself. This, at least, was an aspect of their relationship he knew how to deal with. “Fair enough.”
Unfairly enough, the words went straight to his lower body. Seemingly unaware, or choosing to seem unaware, the prince disappeared down the hallway without even a second look back.
Once he was sufficiently alone, Antinous groaned. There was no way this was happening, except that it definitely was. He cursed the universe. Nevermind what he’d said earlier, it wasn’t funny anymore. It was just cruel.
He’d maybe, possibly, kind of, definitely gotten a bit too attached to Telemachus. In other words, he may have accidentally formed a crush on his sworn enemy.
An actual crush. Something real, if unusual and difficult to define. Not just sexual attraction. Something more.
Unfortunately.
The only way he was forgetting about this by tomorrow was with an amazing amount of alcohol. And jacking off. Inwardly, he kicked himself for his foolishness.
Well. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do with his night. What exactly were you supposed to do after a near death experience and mid-life crisis, anyway?
Gods, just the fact he’d manage to get himself into such a predicament at all was enough to offend him. Gods fucking damn it. This was going to haunt him forever. This awful fluttering in his stomach made him want to throw himself into the ocean. How in Tartarus was he supposed to face Telemachus tomorrow? Or ever!?
And he had only himself to blame.
Okay, not just himself. Himself, and also that fucking mole. Yes, he still saw it every time he closed his eye.
He sighed. Talk about karmic justice.