They had only parted from the group to gather some firewood, yet thanks to Icarus, they were now completely lost. The trees were unfamiliar species to Pythagoras, and when they had tried to head back in the direction they came, they merely came across more unfamiliar depths of vegetation. The forests by Colchis were far from being akin to those by Atlantis.
"I had not expected I'd ever get lost with you by my side," Icarus teased, obviously much more adjusted to situations such as becoming lost than Pythagoras and he displayed much less fear.
"I'm sorry, I should have been more careful. I admit it is uncharacteristic of me to lose my way," Pythagoras sighed, perching on a nearby log. Icarus followed suit.
"What caused you to do so?" Icarus inquired. Pythagoras suddenly felt extremely foolish. He remained silent, looking the other way.
"Pythagoras?"
"It's becoming dark. We should at least do something with this firewood if we can't find our way back to camp," Pythagoras digressed. "Perhaps Jason or Hercules will come to find us," he added, throwing the wood to the floor and standing to make a fire. Icarus caught his hand.
"You're not going to answer me?" Pythagoras averted his eyes once more, yet smiling a little. He squeezed Icarus' hand.
"To say that I could concentrate on nothing other than the warmth of your hand is rather embarrassing, don't you think?" Pythagoras smiled, his eyes still pointed in the other direction. Icarus stood beside him, making sure to face him.
"Then I suppose I'm embarrassing myself also," Icarus smiled, taking hold of Pythagoras' other hand as well. "I can never concentrate on anything but you." Pythagoras let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and laughed airily.
"Luckily I'm here to save you from yourself; you are a hopeless romantic," Pythagoras cradled Icarus' cheek, studying the chestnut contours of his irises.
"I could say the same for you," Icarus responded, slowly closing the small gap between them to press soft kisses onto Pythagoras' lips, and Pythagoras' other hand shifted to holding Icarus' waist.
"I think I'm still in need of proof that this is not a dream," Icarus whispered against his lips.
"Being a dreamer has never bothered you before," Pythagoras breathed.
"I've dreamed of many moments like these with you, Pythagoras, yet that does not mean that I don't desperately wish them to be real."
Pythagoras sighed.
"I cannot provide you with any scientific evidence, I'm sorry, but you can take my word that this is as real as it gets," Pythagoras moved back in to kiss Icarus again, and paused. "I can only thank the gods that you fell for me."
"I'll fall for you as many times as it takes."
Although they were lost in the forest, and it was dark, and it was dangerous and unfamiliar, Pythagoras felt nowhere near to being lost, other than in his lover's kisses and breaths and embraces. Yet in a night which was so ominous and should have constituted so much caution, Pythagoras slept soundly in the arms of one he considered to be his own angel, listening to Icarus trying to count the stars until slumber took them both. And as if the gods had watched and blessed them, they were awoken by their friends who smiled on them just as much, and gave them more strength than they'd ever had to walk forwards.