inject the whump directly into my arteries

[mirrormirrormeme]

Nursed Back to Health shipping meme Comment with your character, preferences, preferred role, and any information you'd like to include. Your character has either been injured/sick and had to be taken in (possibly against their will) or has been the one to help somebody like the former. Through the mending process, the two characters in a thread have fallen in love - or at least grown closer and more affectionate. Reply to others. Thread.

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[elysiumheld]

[ achilles sits with the poorest of postures, leaned over the small arrangement of furs and handmade blankets they call their bed. his elbows rest on his knees while his lover works tirelessly on the wound at his side, and though it aches and it stings, achilles keeps his eyes closed, suppressing the noises of pain and discomfort. he doesn't want to appear weak, least of all to patroclus. he knows he would love him anyway, that he would lose nothing with honesty, but he doesn't need to worry him any more than he already does. achilles is reckless in his combat due to his prophecy, but that doesn't stop patroclus from fretting every time he returns home. all achilles wants is a bath and to hear about patroclus' time while he was gone, but all he gets instead is a firm talking to and some salve made of who-knows-what rubbed into his skin.

still. it's his lover's hands on him, so he can't complain too much, can he? ]

are you nearly finished? [ he asks through grit teeth, ] because i would much rather be touching you right now.

[hetairos]

[ making a chiding noise in the back of his throat, patroclus presses a little too hard on the wound, just to prompt a response from achilles. the other is right in believing he should be more honest with his pain, and though it wrecks patroclus each time he comes back to their tent with a scrape or a cut, he'd much rather achilles tell him that it hurts. how else is he to know that his lover is still human and not the plaything of a prophecy. ]

Hold still. I very nearly am. And once I'm sure you won't pull the wound open, you may have your way.

[elysiumheld]

i can think of-- ow, pat-- ways to have my way without pulling it open again. i would never disrespect your hard work.

[ there's something in his voice, a hint of smarm, perhaps? nevertheless, achilles remains still and stiff, holding strong through the pain despite patroclus' knowledgeable hands preparing his wound for dressage. the bandages come next, curling around his waist over and over, and achilles straightens just a touch. when patroclus fastens it, achilles leans over just enough to capture his lips in his own. it's sudden, but soft and affectionate, and achilles drags his teeth along pat's lip when he parts. ]

thank you, philtatos. i can barely feel it.

[hetairos]

[ patroclus makes a noise in the back of his throat as achilles nips at his lip. something between exasperation and arousal. but achilles will be as he always is: ever eager, ever seeking him out to touch, kiss, throwing himself at patroclus as though he were the demigod, aristos achaion and not achilles. it still leaves him breathless as the first time. when achilles had whispered in his ear, voice dripping with honey and an offer because his mother could not see them. ]

You're welcome. Now, what did you have in mind?

[elysiumheld]

[ ( of course he's the aristos achaion, it was never achilles )

golden curls tumble from one shoulder as achilles lofts his head to one side, trying to find patroclus' gaze. while patroclus might be ready to work, ready to help patch up his wound under his ribcage, achilles just wants to be near him and to press his nose into his neck. to breathe him in and feel him, wrap himself up in him and forget about troy and the war and his prophecy. forget about his mother, who's always been able to see them here. who cares about any of it when he has his philtatos here? ]

you sound tired. [ he drags broad palms along patroclus' shoulders, drawing him in closer. ] i'm here, now. i'm not at war. i'm not facing trojans, or hector.

[ just patroclus, more important than a war or a trojan will ever be. ]

[hetairos]

[ as always, achilles sees him beyond the plain features. he sees the fatigue in his eyes, the ache in his muscles, the cramping in his neck from bending over dying soldiers and warriors.

achilles has always seen him. never seemed to see anyone else but him, his beautiful gaze always landing on patroclus, even when they were boys. now they're young men and hiding away from the war they were both called to. patroclus by the oath his father insisted he swear and achilles by his destiny. they can curl around each other, away from prying eyes and just bask in each other's presence.

he meets his lover's bright gaze when achilles tilts his head, leans forward to brush a kiss against the corner of his mouth. there's still the scent of blood on achilles, but it's tolerable enough that patroclus can ignore it. instead, he tucks his head into the crook of achilles' neck and imagines he can breathe in the scent of ripe figs. ]

A little. Mm, you smell good.

[elysiumheld]

[ pat's hands are rugged and weary, the tired hands of a healer who learns every day how to help and how to bandage, how to heal and stitch and treat. achilles would shield him from the horrors of war if he could help it, but he handles himself beautifully and with a stronger resolve than achilles ever could. he keeps a cool head in the face of a soldier who could die in moments, and he knows exactly how to help them.

his poor love. ]

come close. rest.

[ achilles helps patroclus lay by his side, helping him shed his clothing. achilles' armor had been long forgotten by the entrance to their tent, still bloodied and still damaged, so he pulls off what's left of his own material so when they lay close, there's no layers between them. nothing but their skin and breath. ]

i'll keep you safe here, so you can relax again. i have you.

that icon!!! snoot boops!!!

[hetairos]

[ pressed close as they are, he can feel the beating of achilles' heart and everyday, he's still amazed that he's allowed to reach a hand out, press a palm to his chest, and feel its steady thrum. achilles has and always been the sun to which he turns like a plant seeking warmth. here, where he can relax and momentarily close his eyes, he makes a low noise and allows himself to be. here, there is nothing else but the two of them. here, there is nothing else but achilles and patroclus.

he brushes a stray stand of flaxen silk from achilles' face and sighs. ]

And I have you. Beloved.

boop!!

[elysiumheld]

shhh. do not speak, just rest.

[ and together, they do just that, dozing under the warmth of summer sun that filters between canvas and their skin. achilles keeps his hands around pat's waist, settling palms in the small of his back so that he may not go far when they toss and turn. even with a thin, shiny layer of sweat on their skin, achilles just presses closer, finding comfort in his love.

it must be hours that pass, for when achilles wakes with a sharp pain in his side, the sun is nearly setting. the camp outside is quiet save for fireside chatter, but achilles' breath is nearly gone from his lungs at how deeply the pain runs. he realizes too late that patroclus' salve must have been a numbing agent, and it seems to have run its course. his teeth grit and he tries to sit up, just to cry out louder than intended when it sends shooting pain up his spine. ]

pat-- patroclus--

[hetairos]

[ it takes a few seconds for achilles' initial noises of pain to seep through to him in his dreams, so comfortable he is in his beloved's embrace. but the outcry has patroclus up in an instant, reaching out for him as sleep-addled eyes try to focus. ]

Achilles? What's wrong?

[elysiumheld]

[ achilles does not answer right away, due mostly to the way the pain has stolen his breath from him. he sits up on his knees to avoid bending at the waist, then tugs at his bandages, feeling as though there must be something wrong if the pain has him nearly seeing stars. ]

hurts again, [ is all he can manage, growling through grit teeth as it peaks and crests. he counts his lucky stars that he's been blessed with a lover with healing hands, or he'd likely be out for the following day's combat. but with patroclus so nearby, achilles blindly searches for his hand, for his bandages, for anything he can reach. ]

omg i lost the notif for this sorry

[hetairos]

[ achilles finds his hand as if finding light in the dark and patroclus is quick to move. he brings achilles' hand to his lips to provide a bit of a distraction with a kiss, and then moves just enough to grab the salve. ]

I'll apply some more. Hold still.

[elysiumheld]

[ achilles' world seems to slow in that instant that patroclus kisses the back of his hand, but it's gone again in a moment and achilles is left with searing, aching pain once again. he reaches for his love the moment he drops his hand, wanting to touch anything, anywhere. his hand settles on a thigh, and he squeezes hard, digging fingertips into the muscle he finds there. ]

i will try, please hurry--

[hetairos]

[ patrolus tries not to wince when those fingers dig into his skin. it's painful, but he'll endure a lot more for achilles' sake. he quickly produces the salve and then turns to his lover, urging him on his uninjured side. ]

Shh, it'll be okay.

[ dipping his fingers into the salve, he scoops out a goodly amount and then begins rubbing it in. he's as gentle as he can be, with practiced hands and a keen eye. but he still worries for achilles and offers his free hand to hold. ]