My first attempt at writing patrochilles...hope you enjoy it! Inspired by this prompt: post/141742300721/person-a-is-harassed-by-a-random-stranger-in-a

Patroclus never liked going to clubs. In fact he hated them. But Briseis had wanted to go out tonight and practically begged him to come. He could never resist her begging, so he got dressed in what he assumed was the appropriate clothing, hopped in Bri's convertible, and drove with her to the only nightclub in miles.

Bri, of course, got swept up by a group of people on the dance floor, laughing and tossing her hair with a fiery look on her face. Patroclus was not interested in joining her. Instead, he sat at the bar, sipping his drink, and gave her a little wave every now and then to assure her he's fine.

"You're certainly new here," a man said, shoving his way through the crowd to sit next to Patroclus. The man looked a little older, with dark brown eyes and shiny black hair. "What made you decide to come tonight?" The man raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, my friend wanted me to come." Patroclus murmured, uncomfortable.

"And where's your friend now?"

"She's dancing."

The man scooted off of his chair a bit so his knees were almost touching Patroclus's. Patroclus shuddered slightly.

"Well then you should be dancing, too." The man stood up and held out his hand to Patroclus. "Come on."

"No, uh, I'm fine here," Patroclus said, shrugging awkwardly.

"I'm asking you to dance with me. You should say yes," the man replied sharply, a slight growl in his throat.

Patroclus swallowed hard and tried to keep his hands from shaking. "I really don't feel like it. Thank you, though." He said, turning around in his stool.

A strong hand came down on his shoulder, whipping him back around. The man pulled him to a stand and held onto his waist tightly, pressing Patroclus's chest against his. Patroclus fought back tears. "You're gonna dance with me, okay?"

Patroclus was too frightened to do anything else but nod numbly as the man pulled him towards the dance floor.

"Hey!" someone called, drawing both of their attention. A boy emerged from the crowd and stepped towards them. He was beautiful, with golden skin and matching locks of curling hair. Patroclus stared at him in awe, strangely mesmerized by the boy. "Get your hands off my boyfriend," the boy sneered.

For a moment, Patroclus thought the boy was talking to him - that this creepy man was the golden boy's boyfriend. Then he realized his arm had been released and the man had stepped in front of him as if to face off.

"Boyfriend, huh? He didn't mention anything about a boyfriend."

Patroclus's eyes flickered between the two, his heart racing with fear.

"I didn't realize it was something he had to mention," the godly boy replied, the hint of a smile creeping into his face.

"Yeah well he said he came with his friend, not his boyfriend."

"Well, he can be a little shy when it comes to our relationship. I'm sure you understand."

The older man looks between the two boys, skeptical. He steps back, his arms extended in invitation. "Well then, forgive me, boys for interfering with your young love."

Patroclus breathed a sigh of relief; the man was going to leave them alone.

Or not.

The man doesn't move. Instead he just stands there, waiting. But for what, Patroclus did not know.

Luckily the other boy seemed to. He stepped next to Patroclus and confidently put an arm around him, giving Patroclus an apologetic look as he did so. Patroclus didn't mind the boy's touch. He felt comforted by it.

"Well? Are you just going to stand here? I'd like to be able to talk to my boyfriend in private," the boy replied.

The man chuckled. "You're not fooling me, sweetheart. I wanted to dance with the boy. One way or another, I'm gonna get that dance."

Patroclus looked up at the boy nervously, but his face remained stoic, locked on the man. "No, you're not." The boy whipped Patroclus in front of him and pressed their lips together. Patroclus's mind couldn't comprehend what was happening, but somehow his body knew what to do. He eased into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the other boys waste and surrendered to his touch.

"Ugh, whatever. It's not worth it," Patroclus heard the man grumble. But the two boys did not part, even as Patroclus sensed that the man had walked away. They kept kissing, bodies pressed tight against each other, hands navigating each other's bodies. There were lights flashing around them, music blaring in their ears, but the world seemed still and quiet to Patroclus. All he could sense was this boy in his arms, kissing him.

After what feels like seconds and years simultaneously, the boy pulls his lips away from Patroclus's. They stay pressed against each other, their noses touching. Patroclus breathes heavily.

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, th-"

"That guy was just giving me the creeps and I couldn't stand by and watch as he harassed you," the boy finished, a flicker of anger in his bright eyes.

"Thank you," Patroclus whispered, his voice a little shaky. "I appreciate it."

"I wouldn't have kissed you if he hadn't kept bugging us . . . That was overstepping my boundaries. I'm sorry."

Patroclus's breath hitched and he summoned all the courage he could find, "I am not."

The boy's eyes locked with Patroclus's. "If I'm being honest, neither am I," the boy grinned before closing the distance between them again.

They kissed again, slower this time, less desperate and rushed. The boy's hands travel up Patroclus's body and cup his cheeks. They are warm against his skin.

"I'm Achilles," the boy murmured against his lips.

"Patroclus."

Achilles pulled away ever so slightly and extended his hand. "Can I buy you a drink, Patroclus?" he asked.

Patroclus loved the way he said his name. Pa-tro-clus. He made it sound like music.

He grabbed Achilles' hand and clasped it happily. "Yes. I'd like that."

Patroclus decided he didn't mind clubs.