Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Ow! Fuck!”

Telemachus tripped over a rather inconvenient rug, the stone floor cutting into the shallow flesh of his knee. He winced as the pain of the cut ached through his leg. What a great time to trip. In the middle of the night. Where there was no one else around.

Actually, it was probably for the better. No one was around to sneer at him about it.

He tried to hoist himself up but stumbled back down to his knees, ultimately just making the pain worse. He was sure he looked ridiculous right now; all huddled up on his knees in the middle of the hall in the dark, and not crying. Totally not. Not even a little bit.

The sound of footsteps behind him grabbed his attention, and he tried to spin around but it was awkward on his knees. It looked more like a hop.

“...Little wolf?”

The voice was dark and groggy, a hint of rasp, obviously very sleepy. 

Antinous. And the bastard still wouldn’t even say his name.

“Did you…did you trip? Awh, that’s gold.” Despite his exhaustion, Antinous still managed to be an asshole. Telemachus scowled. “I didn’t ask for you to wake up and make fun of me, Antinous. Go back to bed.”

Antinous rolled his eyes and silently declined the demand. The larger man crouched down and studied Telemachus’ knee with his eyes shining keenly. He reminded Telemachus of a cat. Or, he supposed a larger predator like a panther was more fitting. “That cut looks bad.” The other remarked as though it wasn’t a known fact thus far.

“Yeah, thanks for pointing that out.” He hissed through gritted teeth, the pain still aching. The look on Antinous’ face-or at least what he could make out from the dark-looked amused. “Okay, boy. You’re coming with me.” Antinous grabbed onto Telemachus’ hand without asking for permission. He pulled him up and proceeded to drag him through the hall.

“Ah-hey! The fuck? A-and stop calling me that!” He squeaked, the sound pitiful. He limped slightly on his knee, trying to avoid bending it too much. Antinous seemed to think that Telemachus’ behavior was hilarious. “Ooh, prince has a sharp tongue, eh?”

Telemachus was debating whether to bite Antinous right now.

And not in the kinky way.

“Can you just say my name? I’m not prince, or boy, or little wolf, I’m Telemachus.” He drawled out the pronunciation of his name as though trying to get it across. “We’ve known each other long enough for you to know that.”

“Oh, I know.”

A silence stretched that Telemachus wanted to break with an insult, but he feared that he would wake up everyone if he were to yell, so he kept his mouth shut. Antinous’ pace was brisk, not slowing whatsoever. It was hard to keep up with.

He rubbed his forehead. Why did Antinous make him so angry? He was sure that his mother wouldn’t even believe that he acted this way in the suitor’s presence, and he couldn’t blame her. It was so different from how he interacted with others. As a prince, he always tried to be polite, and others might describe him as “bright and full of sunshine”, but with Antinous he felt the strong urge to commit atrocities. 

“We’re here.” Said Antinous at last, their brisk walking coming to a stop. They had arrived in front of a door. There was nothing special about it, just a normal door. Telemachus couldn’t help but tilt his head curiously as they walked in.

Ah. Telemachus had never been in one of the suitor’s rooms before.

It was plain. Very plain. A bed in the corner, an animal fur rug on the floor, and a few large weapons hanging on the walls. Telemachus didn’t picture Antinous as one for interior design, but he also didn’t expect him to be this bad.

“Sit.”

Telemachus obliged, sitting on the edge of the bed, though he cast a suspicious look at Antinous as he rummaged through a drawer. What could he be doing that required such vagueness?

Antinous pulled out a roll of linen bandages, and walked back over to Telemachus, his steps measured and intimidating as always. Before wrapping the bandages, Antinous took his thumb to the cut and got a bit of blood on his fingertip, bringing it to his mouth and getting a taste.

What a fucking weirdo.

The momentary disgust at the action of Antinous tasting Telemachus’ blood subsided, instead replaced by surprise at how the other was tending to his knee. It really was just a minor injury, he could’ve walked it off in a day or two. And, to add onto that, Antinous totally could’ve bailed and went back to bed after finding Telemachus huddled up in a little ball in the hallway…But he didn’t.

Antinous’ hands were delicate in movement despite their sheer size, or, at least size in comparison to his. His movements were efficient and gentle. This was weird. Definitely a red flag. He should bolt out of here. But at the same time he wanted to see where this went.

“...why are you tending to my knee?” He finally mustered up the voice to ask, trying to sound irritated but it ended up sounding curious. “Because you scraped it really badly.” Antinous responded with a shrug as though it were obvious, eyes still locked on his knee as he worked.

“Well-yeah-but…why? It’s me. It’s you.”

“Your point?”

“Urgh-my point is that you would never do this. You would just leave me to cry in the hallway.”

“Oh, so you were crying? I thought I spotted a glimmer in your eyes.”

“That’s not the-!...whatever.” He crossed his arms and looked away, frustrated. He swore that Antinous was bringing this out of him on purpose. His gaze slowly drew back to him as Antinous finished wrapping his knee, standing back up and stretching. He still looked exhausted. Telemachus’ eyes lingered on his chest for a minute before looking back up at his face.

“...I’m stealing your bed.” He said with a smirk, purposefully flopping down on his bed and sprawling himself out. If Antinous wanted to be annoying, he’d just do it right back.

Antinous groaned, but looked too tired to put up a real fight. He nudged him a little to the side and then flopped down in the small space he made, curled up like a big bear.

Well, an unexpected turn of events. Now he didn’t know how to feel.

Hesitantly, he scooted a little closer, sidling into his chest. Antinous didn’t react except for popping one eye open. He could only guess that he was attempting to glare, but his eyes were unfocused and tired. Telemachus smirked smugly at him, and Antinous closed his eyes again with a huff.

Argos will probably wonder where he went in the morning. He hopes that he won’t worry too much. Because this wasn’t all that bad, actually. His dog will be able to survive a night without him by his side. It’s good practice.

“Night, Antony.” He whispered. Thank the gods that Antinous was half asleep already, or he might’ve punched his lights out just by uttering that nickname. Telemachus’ eyes closed as well, and he fell asleep rather quickly, curled up by Antinous’ side. Not quite how he expected the night to end, but he wasn’t complaining. Much.