There was a gentle tapping and Philippe looked up from his book. He made no attempt to answer the door, knowing full well that it was a knock from the Chevalier's hand. After a few moments, he heard him creep into the room like a mouse, scurrying over to his side, and he felt his breath on the back of his neck as he stood behind his chair.
Philippe sighed. "What is it?"
The Chevalier, dressed casually for the evening, moved into Philippe's eyeline and looked sheepishly at him, fiddling with the rings on his fingers.
"Don't say I'm no longer in your favour?" he said, a small pout emerging.
Philippe tried not to smirk. How many times had they been through the exact same routine after an argument? He looked right through the Chevalier, pretending not to see him. "Is there someone in here?"
Philippe knew he had resorted to acting childish. He often played the same childish games with his brother. He could hardly help it though. It was frustration for the most part and he certainly wasn't going to let the Chevalier cajole him into changing his mind. He wouldn't forgive just yet.
As he sat silently, he could feel the Chevalier's eyes staring at him, unmoving. No, he couldn't let him change his mind. He couldn't. But then he felt the Chevalier's soft touch upon his cheek and he relented for a moment, allowing himself to look up at the man.
"I have your attention finally," the Chevalier said.
Philippe tried not to smile at the joviality of his companion's tone. "What do you want?"
The Chevalier knelt in front of him. "What can I say, I had a momentary lapse of judgement."
Philippe reached for his glass and took a slow sip of his wine, savouring the taste and not giving him an immediate answer. "You have a lot of those momentary lapses."
"And you can find it in your heart to…forgive me?"
The Chevalier looked like a puppy dog craving attention as he waited for a response, his eyes alight with wonder.
Philippe smirked. "I suppose… only because I am far too tired to send you away, I suppose you could sit beside me for a while, for company."
The Chevalier's smile was wide, infectious and enticing and it felt right and true and as it should be as they sat side by side. Philippe would not let him see that he gazed upon him. For the Chevalier, it was a daily occurrence to compliment the King's brother, and Philippe was used to praise upon his beauty and his prowess on the battlefield (not to mention prowess in the bedroom), but for Philippe he would keep most of those compliments to himself, especially after an argument when he would lock away all his feelings and pretend they were never there at all.
But as expected, the Chevalier continued to gaze upon his pale face and slightly blushed cheeks and Philippe would pretend he hadn't noticed.
Finally, Philippe gave in. "I know what you're doing."
"What's that my love?" the Chevalier said with feigned innocence.
Philippe turned another page in his book. He'd read the same paragraph several times. "Stop trying to get me to submit."
"I never thought of such a thing." The Chevalier raised a hand up in the air. "I swear it."
Philippe sighed as he looked at him and he shut his book abruptly, placing it down onto the table. "Somehow you've magical powers and you use them to conjure up my attention."
The Chevalier smirked and reached a hand toward him, wriggling his fingers above his love's body but not touching him. "I need not have powers to summon anything from you Mignonette."
The Chevalier lightly caressed Philippe's hand and Philippe found himself relenting. He allowed himself to be led slowly to the bed and watched as the Chevalier jumped upon it, rolling over seductively atop the covers.
"Room for one more," he said with a wink and then patted the cover beside him. As he rolled over to make space for Philippe he tumbled off the side of the bed, hitting the floor with a thud. There was the sound of a whispered squeak and Philippe climbed onto the bed and peered over the edge. The Chevalier had a mass of blonde curls covering his face and his body was outstretched and twisted awkwardly in an unattractive fashion. Philippe wanted to laugh.
"Don't even think about laughing!" said the Chevalier trying to speak with a mouthful of unruly thick hair.
Philippe smiled and held out his hand. "Are you hurt?"
The Chevalier blew some strands of hair from his face and then attempted to stand, trying to maintain what little dignity he had left. He yelped.
"Ow my back, my back!"
"You shouldn't have been showing off."
The Chevalier scrunched up his nose and wiped the remaining hair away from his face. "I wouldn't have needed to if you'd not been so reluctant."
"Let me help you."
Philippe pulled the Chevalier back onto the bed, ignoring the cries of agony as he did so. He then helped him into a comfortable position and laid the Chevalier's head gently on the pillow. "I think you should rest for a while."
"Alone?" The Chevalier's head managed to lift a little before he was forced to settle it back on the pillow.
Philippe raised his eyes upwards and sighed. He gave in. "No, not alone. I'm here." He placed his arms around the Chevalier's body and held onto him tightly, laying his own weary head on the other pillow. "It doesn't mean I've forgiven you."
With great difficulty and a series of grumbles, the Chevalier managed to turn to look into his lover's beautiful grey eyes. "Of course not, my love."
Philippe smiled and lightly kissed him on the top of the head. "Go to sleep."