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Illiad

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Thor sits in a green arm chair they’d found set out for trash and lugged into their apartment. It’s the most comfortable chair they own, despite its humble origin. He’s got a book in his hands, dog eared and highlighted. The sunlight comes in the window behind him and dances across his skin, in his eyes, and curls around his hair.

Dizzee just watches him for a moment, enjoying the candid, peaceful moment. He’s dabbled in photography recently and his fingers itch for a camera to capture this moment. Thor has been his model often enough, but doesn’t usually show up in dizzee’s candids. He likes taking pictures of people on the street, likes the wild, spontaneous feel of it.

He steps forwards and Thor looks up, smiling when he sees Dizzee. He sets the book down but doesn’t get up, just looking at Dizzee with loving eyes. Dizzee walks over to him and sits on the windowsill next to him, carefully avoiding the potted plants.

“What are you reading?”

Thor hums, speaks:

“The Iliad.”

Dizzee grins, excited to talk about the book.

“I’ve read it, really liked all the epithets.”

Thor nods, says:

“Swift footed Achilles, gentle hearted Patroclus.”

Dizzee feels his heart thrill at the mention of the two and asks:

“I assume you know about them?”

Thor laughs.

“You mean that they were gay as fuck for each other?”

Dizzee laughs too, Thor’s laughter is always infectious, and says:

“Yeah, that.”

Thor just says:

“Yeah.”

His eyes have gone intense all of a sudden, burning blue, like the hottest part of a flame. But not with anger, rather with love. Dizzee knows it’s for him and he feels his heart beat faster.

Thor leans forward and Dizzee does too, the pair drawn in by the magnetism they’ve felt since they first meet. They kiss softly, practiced, fitting in together like they were made to be together. Thor pulls away, raising a hand to cup dizzee’s cheek and whispers:

“My Achilles.”

Dizzee feels himself go all gooey, melting into Thor’s hand, the love inside his chest feeling like it will burst out. He feels like his rib cage is full of flowers, growing and blooming and dying and growing again. He whispers back:

“My Patroclus.”

Thor grins, all softness, all love, a perfect puzzle piece fitting into Dizzee’s life. Dizzee smiles and reaches out to pick up the book and hands it to Thor, saying:

“Why don’t you read to me?”

Thor takes the book, flipping to his page, and begins to read. Dizzee listens to the soft drone of his voice, leaning his head against the side of the armchair. He feels content, here in this sunlit room with his love.

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