Alexander, Something’s Always Wrong

Title: Something’s Always Wrong [Hephaistion/Alexander]
Rating/Warnings: R, even though Hephaistion has a girly proper streak.
AN: Written for the 2005 Sekrit Projekt, Track 17.

Another day I call and never speak
And you would say nothing’s changed at all
And I can’t feel much hope for anything
–Toad the Wet Sprocket

Track 17: Something’s Always Wrong

Confessing his feelings to Alexander was harder than Hephaistion had thought it would be.

For one thing, getting a moment alone with Alexander was all but impossible. He would no sooner fine an opportune moment and get his courage worked up at than Alexander’s mother would snatch him away, or Aristotle would clap his hands and call for lessons to start, or one of the other boys would pop out of nowhere, scaring Hephaistion half to death and demanding a wrestling match.

That last one happened most often and never ended well, since it always wound up with Hephaistion’s last nerve fraying while he watched Alexander writhe around on the ground with somebody else.

“Alexander. Alexander, wake up.”

“Muh?” Alexander rolled away from the hand shaking his shoulder. Hephaistion kicked off his sandals and climbed up into the bed to shake Alexander again, who cracked an eye open. “Still dark. What d’you want?”

“I want to talk to you,” Hephaistion answered, tugging Alexander over onto his back so he could see his face. “Without anybody interrupting.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Alexander whined, rolling over just a little more on his own so that his cheek was pillowed on Hephaistion’s thigh. Hephaistion swallowed hard. “Go back to sleep, you can tell me tomorrow.”

“No!” Hephaistion felt like he couldn’t get quite enough air into his lungs. “I have to tell you now.” Taking more deep breaths didn’t actually help, they just made Hephaistion dizzy.

“Hmm?” Alexander asked, already starting to drift off again, and Hephaistion tried to pull himself together.

“I…” Hephaistion fought not to think about how Alexander’s face was less than a handsbreath away from his completely inopportune erection. “I love you.”

“Of course you do,” Alexander replied, shifting a little to bring his body more in line along Hephaistion’s leg, and Hephaistion fought down a whimper. “Everybody does.”

“No, you idiot,” irritation temporarily cleared Hephaistion’s mind, and he caught a handful of bed-mussed, golden curls to tilt Alexander’s head and force him to look Hephaistion in the eye, “I mean, I’m in love with you.”

“Don’t call me an idiot,” Alexander grumbled, “and I know that too. Idiot.” While Hephaistion spent a moment puzzling that out, Alexander slipped a hand underneath Hephaistion’s chiton and caught hold of his interest.

His breath catching, Hephaistion’s fingers tightened in Alexander’s hair, and Alexander made a small noise. The apology had barely formed on his tongue when Alexander pressed against Hephaistion more tightly, and somewhere in the vicinity of his knee, he felt that Alexander was just as interested.

He wasn’t sure if he pulled Alexander up, or Alexander had pulled him down, but he found himself kissing Alexander fiercely while Alexander tugged their clothes out of the way, which should have been easy since all he were wearing was an unsewn rectangle of wool, but actually was kind of difficult when he were tangled up in sheets with somebody who refused to stop wrapping arms and legs around his.

Alexander gave up when everything was just out of the way enough and returned to stroking Hephaistion with warm, awkward fingers. He caught at one of Hephaistion’s hand and put him to work as well.

Alexander was a little bit terrible at it; Hephaistion was surprised by how much that pleased him. After all, it didn’t take too much at their age, and just knowing that it was Alexander’s fingers tugging, however arrhythmic, was more than enough to push him over they edge while they were tangled so tightly together.

Besides, there would be plenty of time to practice. Especially with this whole world domination thing Alexander was dreaming up; there’d be plenty of long, cold nights on campaign, places where the warmth of another body might be all that separated you from…

“What are you smiling about?” Alexander asked, then gave a jaw-cracking yawn. “That’s all you wanted, right? I can go back to sleep? Aristotle wants to do lyric poetry again tomorrow, and I need my beauty sleep so I can be the subject, rather than having to spout drivel myself.”

Alexander was already rolling over without waiting for an answer, and Hephaistion stared at his back for a moment, a cold knot forming in his stomach. Only for a moment, though, because then Alexander reached a hand over his shoulder to pull Hephaistion down against his back.

“Go to sleep,” Alexander ordered, tugging Hephaistion’s arm over his waist, and Hephaistion smiled against the back of Alexander’s neck and let him have his way.

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