Hot Dogs and Science Experiments

Eight hours left.

Just eight hours.

It has been a long week without his husband, but Achilles has repressed his negative emotions as far as he could. Naturally, he’s been one hundred percent supportive of Patroclus as he’s finally presenting his research at this famous conference that is unfortunately a three-hour flight away. He wasn’t sad at all as they waved goodbye at the airport. If he and Philia both pouted that first night they were left alone, eating pizza, and watching cartoon movies until they fell asleep, so what?

On a serious note, this conference was life-changing for Patroclus. With his brand-new Doctorate of Physiology (“with a discipline in Pathophysiology”, Achilles will add every time he brags to anyone who asks), Patroclus is leading his hard-working lab as they finally present their published research to a league of important people in his field. He’d been feverishly preparing in the weeks prior, and the result was truly magnificent. Seeing the pictures and live recording of his husband, calm, proud, and wise as he lectures in words Achilles barely understands to an enthralled auditorium fills him with fierce pride.

He practiced and streamlined that lecture with me every night for weeks, he wants to shout. He worked so hard, and yet he makes it look so easy! Even Philia sat with him, crashing her toys together on the floor, as he casted the hour-long presentation to the TV. When he pointed out her Papa’s face at the beginning, she raced to the screen.

“Is that Papa?” she screamed, directly touching pudgy fingers to his face.

“It is!”

“He’s famous if he’s on TV!”

Achilles had laughed softly, nodding. “One day he will be! He’ll get lots of awards, his name will be in books, and more TV shows!”

“Wow!” Five minutes in she sat back down to play, thoroughly bored by the topic as any child would be.

Best of all, as exhausted as he must be, Patroclus makes time to check in every morning and night so that Achilles and Phi can see his face and scream their love and support. It isn’t the same as having him there, though, as he huddles nightly in cold blankets- Achilles never knew that he had such separation anxiety, and it infuriates him.

Never mind. He’ll be on his way home soon! Achilles cheers inwardly as he puts Phi’s breakfast of a biscuit, smoked sausage, and fruit cup in front of her. Just eight more hours.

“Daddy, there’s no butter and jelly on it,” Philia whines, pulling apart her biscuit and waving it.

“I haven’t put it on there yet. Give me a second. Put it on the plate, please.”

“Hmm.” Disgruntled, Philia obediently puts the biscuit down and chomps at her sausage. “Papa’s home today?”

“Yes.” He quickly butters and jellies the biscuit, watching her do a happy dance in her booster seat at the news.

“Good! Thank you for my biscuit, Daddy! Breakfast is good! I’m happy!”

Tantrum prevented, a relieved Achilles sits down to his own biscuits and omelet, taking his suppressants with some ice water. Crisis aversion is the other thing that he misses about having Patroclus by his side- he serves as a balance to his husband and child, the statement ‘like father like daughter’ never truer than when Achilles and his daughter are in the same space. He loves Philia with his entire being, but he never realized how much he appreciated having his partner’s help. Something about this week in particular has been hard, and it has shown in the chaos that he has walked a tightrope to contain- both emotionally and in house.

He should have known that Philia was being too quiet when she interrupts his thoughts with a finger pointed at the stick of butter.

“Daddy, what happens if you roll over butter with a car?”

Because where did that thought even come from? “It flattens the butter.”

“Why?”

“The car is big and heavy, and the butter is small.”

“No!” Philia shouts, scowling. “You have to prove it! Papa says you have to test things when you publish them! Otherwise, you are not telling the truth!”

Clenching, Achilles slowly puts his fork down and takes a deep breath as he tries to squash the anxiety and irritation rising within him. On the few occasions he took a break, Patroclus had tried to balance it by spending time with his daughter in his office. Once, his science brain carried over and that led into a simplified explanation of the scientific method that still went right over Philia’s head as she played with dinosaurs… or so they’d thought. Ever since he left, Philia has been doing ‘science just like Papa’, a determined frown on her face as she tested things including but not limited to:

• The volume of music: how high she can turn it until it hurts her ears, and how many of her toy instruments will ‘make music’ with each given song, leading to the same three songs in repetition for two hours and a kiddy-headache that she wailed while taking ‘icky’ medicine for.
• Gravity: perched at the top of the long stairway leading down to the living room, she threw down three dinosaurs, rolled down four cars, two different sized balls, and a doll, making plenty of unnecessary noise on the way down. Achilles had come out of his studio to stop her when he witnessed her heartily try to run and toss herself down; he barely caught her in time by sprinting over and hurtling himself down the stairs to catch her. His back still hurts
• The ‘Demons’: he isn’t even sure what TV show she managed to sneak, but after finding her shivering like a Chihuahua while brandishing a long cardboard roll and a book-shield claiming she was ‘going to war with the demons’ at one in the morning, Achilles had to let her sleep with him for two nights for both of their safety and peace of mind.
• Her Daddy’s patience, as there was seemingly never an end to the things the girl was willing to put herself in danger to ‘prove’ despite witnessing the heartrending fear he experienced every time she did, because she certainly had to be doing this to kill him.

Thus, at this moment, Achilles and all his frayed nerves would be blessed if he never heard another question about ‘proving’ or ‘testing’ anything ever again. When he silently continues eating, she smacks her lips.

“Daddy, you went to school like Papa too? Why don’t you know?”

Achilles’ eyes narrow. This girl- she didn’t even know what ‘publish’ meant, but she’s challenging him! And damn it all, Achilles is falling for it! He’s no slouch himself- his background is in Exercise Physiology, with his Master’s degree hanging proudly on the wall amongst their cumulative degrees. Undergrad is actually how he met Patroclus. He dances amongst, personally trains, and gives therapy to the elite with his heavily sought experience and opinion- he’s smart enough to explain this!

Besides, he reminds himself for the umpteenth time, he and Patroclus had promised each other that as parents they would always encourage her curiosity. It’s something that Achilles always wanted, as Thetis had eventually stopped entertaining him altogether and began to lead with ‘because I said so’, which only ever encouraged him to challenge, argue, and rebel. Achilles takes a long look at the stick of butter. It’s an easy enough thing to prove, one and done. No one gets hurt, nothing gets damaged, she gets her answer and maybe he’ll take a nap before he finally cleans the house.

He places his fork on the table. “Fine. We’ll test it- after,” he continues, holding out a hand to stop her from throwing her half-eaten orange slice, “we finish breakfast and getting dressed for the day.”

Once they’re all done, he gets her dressed in proper summer attire of a shamrock green dress and bright white crocs. To finish, he moisturizes her hair with her sweet-smelling oil-water mix before tying it up with a big green bow. Satisfied that she looks absolutely adorable, he then dresses himself in lightweight black joggers and a green muscle shirt, so they match. After they take a goofy selfie to send to Patroclus, she jumps into his arms, he grabs the butter, and they all make their way outside.

Patroclus’ cream SUV is heavier, more likely to crush the stick, so he makes his way to the back wheel on the right.

“Let me do it!” Philia slides out of his arms and clumsily takes the butter, letting it fall with a splat underneath the wheel.

“Let’s go turn the car on!” Achilles races to the front, Philia’s footsteps fast behind him, and he hauls her up into his lap as the engine purrs to life. They both sit in anticipation as they feel the small bump over the butter, Philia squealing with delight and squeezing his shirt. He turns the car off, and she pulls him to the back wheel.

“Look, look Daddy, it’s squished! You were right!”

Now, it’s amazing to hear how he’s right (because of course he is) but another, more pressing issue has arrived: there is a stick of half frozen butter firmly stuck inside Patroclus’ wheel. Hindsight is 20/20- he could have grabbed a fresh stick that still had the paper on it to ease clean up, or even better yet, looked this up online. He’d been so ready to both one-up and impress his daughter that he didn’t think about the cleanup.

It’s fine, this is fixable.

“Phi, go grab Daddy the hose.”

Face flushed with effort, Philia drags him the green hose. The water isn’t doing much, only pushing chunks here and there, the butter still firmly entrenched in the tread and grooves. He’s focused on another solution when Philia comes running out of the garage after turning off the water.

“I can help! I found a knife!”

Achilles’ heart drops. “No! Philia! Stop running, put that down right now!”

Philia slows, still two handedly wielding the bowie knife that is almost her size like a sword. Pouting, she puts the knife down, and he swiftly slides it out of her reach. Once his heart has stopped beating a mile a minute, Achilles tries to scrape out the butter using the tip of the knife, but some of it is still frozen solid, and he doesn’t want to risk stabbing the tire and making a bad situation worse.

“Let’s go spray it at the car wash with the strong hoses!”

“The what?”

“The ones that go-” Philia makes a strong noise while clenching her lip, spit flying out- the pressure washer! For whatever reason, they haven’t replaced the one they had after Patroclus broke it trying to clean the gutters. Her excitement is palpable, and it’s not an awful idea, and so Achilles buckles her in tight to her car seat, and after a short prayer that the car doesn’t swerve or slip on the ten-minute drive, they slowly leave home. So much for laying down.

Thankfully, they make it to the car wash with no issues, and Phi cheers as he aims the pressure washer on the now filthy tire. The majority of the butter is already gone when Philia tugs on his shirt.

“Daddy, Daddy can I do it?”

The smart answer would be no, but she’s giving him such a cute look that he can’t help it. He hands her the pressure washer and is about to explain how to use it, when she hauls back and squeezes the trigger full throttle. He instinctively jumps away to avoid the painful onslaught of water, but in her panic, Philia turns towards the stream towards him anyway. Shirt wet, he dodges behind the vehicle.

“Phi!” he shouts over her shrill, panicked screaming. “Phi just let it go! Just throw it down!”

Philia raises the pressure washer and blindly tosses it away. Achilles watches in horror as it slams into the window, the last of the water spraying into the back of the car that she’s left open. Both of them are sniffling in the resulting silence; Philia out of nerves from the scary pressure washer, Achilles as he rushes over to observe the glass for damage. On the bright side, there’s no damage- the sickening crack from earlier was just from the sound of impact.

“I’m sorry Daddy,” Philia whispers. “Am I in trouble?”

Her shoulders droop low with shame as her chest huffs, her tears indistinguishable from the water. Swallowing his burgeoning anger at the situation, Achilles brings her close, holding her hands.

“Thank you for apologizing. You’re not in trouble, I’m not mad. This can be fixed- we just have to clean the whole car now.”

Guilt-free, Philia swiftly forgets about her mistake as she complains on the way to the full-service carwash.

“Daddy, it’s wet!” she shouts, squirming in her car seat. “I don’t like sitting in it! It’s making my butt wet! But I didn’t pee myself, I’m telling you!”

Tense, Achilles is not having a good time of it either. “That’s what happens when you spray water on the inside of a car.”

The moment they pull up to the carwash, he waves over the first of the group of attendants.

“Premium clean,” he says as he tosses the keys. “Whatever you can do to dry the seats, do, and I’ll even pay extra for the car seat.”

Then he snatches Philia out, and they jog to the nearby park. He chooses the playground with the highest concentration of sunlight and unleashes her on the other children before slumping onto a bench with a sigh. For about thirty minutes, he half-meditates half-naps as his skin and clothes dry under the hot sun. Philia quickly takes command of the chaos on the playground, the other children enthralled by her energy. She’s lost her bow somewhere, her pretty dress is ruined with dirty handprints, crocs marred with dirt, and he’s pretty sure she just triumphantly made another boy eat an ant with her. Normally he’s on top of this, making sure she stays clean and bug free. But she’s cheesing up a storm, no one is crying, and he’s unusually exhausted, so Achilles counts this impromptu playdate as a win.

Just as he checks his phone for an alert from the carwash, his phone rings, and he damn near drops it in his excitement.

“Philtatos, what’s going on? Are you safe? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just finished the last meeting of the conference; about to head back to my hotel. Are you okay? You sound tired.”

Shit. “I’m fine. Just at the park with Phi. Phi- find your bow!”

“Mm. Has she eaten a worm, yet?”

“An ant. She’s filthy, and I’m sad because I dressed her so cute today, too.”

Patroclus chuckles on the other end of the call. “Give us all the steel nerve and the responsibility free life of toddlers.”

His voice is warm, and Achilles melts in comfort. A tinny ping distracts him from dozing off to his lover’s voice, letting him know that the car is clean. Relieved, he tunes back into Patroclus’ voice.

“Achilles, can you hear me? I have to go, okay?”

“What? Already?”

“Unless you want me to stay here another night?”

“Please don’t. The demons will eat me and Phi if you stay away any longer.”

“…the what?”

“Nothing, love you! Hurry home!”

Achilles stands and stretches. This entire odyssey has taken longer than he anticipated, leaving him less time than planned to clean up the whirlwind that is his house.

“Phi, tell your friends bye, we’re leaving!”

Waving her bow like a banner, Philia sprints over to his side.

“I won at all the games, Daddy! Papa says that I’m… I’m…swif-footed just like you!”

“High five!” Achilles holds his hand just slightly out of reach so that Philia has to jump up to it. “Good job.”

When she’s finished applauding herself, she takes his hand and skips on the way back to the car wash. “I’m hungry! I want to make dinner! My new friend, he said his Mommy lets him pick what they eat sometimes.”

“It’s only lunch time, Phi.”

“I know! But I wanna make dinner too!”

They settle for lunch inside a McDonalds; a salad and sweet tea for him, and a Happy Meal of apple slices and chicken nuggets for Phi. Rather than eating, she’s making the nuggets fight each other, full sound effects. One of them must lose their grand fight, because she dips it in ketchup and aggressively bites off its ‘head’ in retribution.

“So,” Achilles interrupts, “what do you want to make for dinner?”

“Hm… grapes, grape tomatoes, and… and hot dogs!”

Grape tomatoes? “That’s not dinner.”

Philia pouts, but this time, he’s determined to hold his ground. “No. Pick something else.”

“But I wanna! I wanna feed Papa, and tell him all about today with the butter and the-”

It is then that Achilles realizes that his daughter will talk about this, and his pride smarts. He’d been so confident refusing when Patroclus asked if he wanted him to call their parents or friends for help sometimes- he’s a grown man and a responsible father, he can parent his child. Now, a week later, all he wants to do is pretend that the week went swimmingly and move on.

“Fine.” Philia cheers at his acquiescence. “We’ll go to the store. But you can’t tell Papa about the science experiment or the car wash.”

“But… but it was fun!”

Achilles could give her an explanation. A better, less tired parent would give an explanation, right? “I’ll buy you ice cream bars.”

Philia clamps her teeth together.

Their adventure to the store is yet another delay, but he grits and tries his best at patience as she picks out the exact bag of green grapes she wants, the ‘perfect’ cherry- he’s sorry- grape tomatoes, and a pack of hot dogs. He might as well get himself something while he’s here, and he’s so wrapped up in choosing between wines that he doesn’t notice his daughter silently slip away. 

“Phi? Philia? Philia?”

Eurydice listens on to Philia’s almost unintelligible conversation with Kairos. The day has clearly been a handful, between Philia’s dress looking like it’s seen better days and the manic story she’s weaving. Still, she seems happy as can be as she enthralls him.

“Sweetie, pause- where’s your dad?”

Philia, still squeezing hands with Kairos, gives her wide eyes. “He’s looking at the grape juice bottles.”

Eurydice pulls out her phone, alerting Achilles who must be looking at wine a few aisles down. Moments later, Achilles sprints around the corner, looking worse for wear. She’s never seen him look so undone before, hair in a disheveled half bun and light bruising under his eyes, a faint distressed scent passing by her in waves.

“Thank you so much, Eurydice; I thought someone had snatched her.”

“No problem. She and Kai have been having one of their important conversations, so I just let em talk! Say bye-bye for now, Kai!”

“Bye-bye Phi, bye Uncle ‘Chilles!”

Don’t run away like that, no, I don’t want to hear anything else from you, just walk, she hears Achilles hiss to Philia, who scowls as her eyes tear up and her cheeks flush. She pulls her messages back up, scrolling to Patroclus’ name.

You ain’t gone believe this

Husband or child

no don’t tell me

its husband ik it

I just knew it’s been too quiet

Is he okay?

He seems very tired

Slightly scenting

He and Phi are agitated

He could use some support

She was telling this crazy story

something about butter in the car wheel

washing the inside of the car

grapes, tomatoes, and hot dog dinner

*sigh*

2 sides of the same coin

Ik I was right to be worried

Ok. Thank you

No prob

The orange twilight is low in the sky as the Lyft pulls up to the front of the house, the last moment of peace before Patroclus’ keys signals the front door opening. He’s instantly met by Achilles throwing himself into his arms- Eurydice had been right; his sandalwood smell is marred by stress.

“Did you miss me that much?” he murmurs, releasing a calming, earthy scent that Achilles at once huddles into. In response to his voice, loud footsteps race to the top of the stairs. Philia stands in her PJs, freshly clean and beaming.

“Papa!” She flops onto her belly and slides down the staircase. “I missed you!”

He makes space for Philia in the hug, and she squeezes into the other side of his neck.

“Are you hungry, Philtatos?” Achilles murmurs sleepily. “I still have to help Phi make her ‘special’ dinner, but after I can-”

“I’m okay. I already planned on cooking if you hadn’t. My famous pasta, one of your favorites. Just let me put my stuff down and wash my hands.” Philia tugs on one of Patroclus’ locs to regain his attention, and he frowns. “Excuse me, don’t pull my hair please. You don’t like it when people touch your hair without permission.”

“Oh- okay! I’m sorry. But, I’m gonna make dinner too, Papa!”

As he efficiently prepares a salad and boils bowtie pasta, Patroclus watches Achilles help Phi use her tiny fork and knife to slowly cut and place each, single cherry tomato-half into a bowl, and then does the same exact thing with the grapes, and then finally the hot dogs. Even from a distance it’s a little mind numbing, watching her count each one while she does this (20 half-grapes, 8 half-tomatoes, and 10 hot dog bits) but he’s not going to stop her, especially when she’s counting so high despite her age. Achilles places the two small bowls and paper plate onto the table, and Philia into her booster seat.

She takes one sniff in the air and turns to Patroclus.

“Ooh, what is Papa making, that smells better! I want that instead.”

The air in the room instantly changes, like the calm before a hurricane. Achilles’ fists tighten and his eyes widen- he’s either going to throw the entire table or bawl, the crackling smell of fury emanating all the way across the kitchen. It’s clear that his patience has officially snapped, and Patroclus swiftly makes his way over to the table, cutting through the wrath with a bowl of salad.

“Wow, you did such a good job cutting the tomatoes!” he says to Phi, sweeping them into the large salad bowl. He lifts two baggies, pouring the grapes and hot dogs into each. “And we can pack these for your playdate tomorrow with Kai, yes?”

“A playdate? Yeah!”

Patroclus kneels low to the floor where she now stands in excitement. “Great! Why don’t you go play in the living room until I’m finished with dinner, hm?”

“But…” Philia’s face falls. “But I wanna stay in here with you…”

“Just for a little while, okay? We can play whatever you want once I’m done with dinner.”

The moment she runs away, Patroclus sweeps a stiff Achilles into his arms, holding him tight.

“Just breathe, okay?”

“Patroclus, I- I don’t-” he near sobs, finally unclenching. “All day, I just-I don’t know why it’s getting to me but she’s-”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, okay? Toddlers are whimsical, and you are clearly tired.” He pushes the blond hair away so he can kiss his forehead. “Why don’t you go take a hot shower until it’s time to eat?”

Defeated, Achilles sadly chuckles. “You sound like you’re talking to Philia.”

“Sometimes we all just need a gentle nudge.”

He waits until Achilles escapes up the back stairs before returning to cooking. For a few quiet minutes, Patroclus strains the noodles, pours his sauce into a pot and flavors it, and finishes cooking the beef and peppers before leaving them to simmer in the sauce. It normally feels cathartic, he ponders as he wipes his hands, coming home and falling back into his old patterns. He’s certainly missed home cooking, his bed, and his energetic family. But, as he passes a clingy Philia in the living room, he realizes that maybe he hasn’t been paying as much attention as he should have been.

“Phi,” he asks, sitting down on the couch. She runs over and crawls up into his lap. “How have you been this week?”

“I missed you! I did lots of science, just like you do!”

“I’m happy to hear that! But how are you feeling? Happy, sad?”

Philia wiggles in her spot, gripping his arm while she thinks. “I was sad you were gone. Daddy said you would be back though. We counted the days. So now I’m happy!”

“Did you behave while I was gone?” 

“Yes.”

“Phi.”

Annoyed, Philia glares. “Yes! But Daddy’s been mad all day, and he said I didn’t do anything bad!”

Now this is what Patroclus was extra concerned about. “Mad? All day? Did that make you sad?”

“Yes! He made me almost cry at the store today, because I ran away to see Kai, and he got all-”

Philia turns red with exertion as she puffs her cheeks out, widening her eyes in a livid scowl that Patroclus bites his lip to stop laughing at- it’s hilariously accurate to his catty husband when he’s in a Mood.

“Okay, okay. Fix your face. You know better than to run away from your adult. So, he got angry, but he didn’t yell?”

“No. No yelling.” Philia’s voice is quiet as she leans into Patroclus. “He’s been sad all week too. Maybe he’ll be happy again since you’re back.”

The dejection in her voice- he’s not happy with me- breaks his heart, and he hugs her close. “Look, I’ll go talk to Daddy, okay? Sometimes we have bad days, too, but that doesn’t mean he’s not happy with you.”

She turns unsure eyes up to him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. He loves you very much, and so do I. Now let me go, please.”

“…you’ll come back downstairs?”

“Promise. Here- turn on your playlist.”

The rare treat of the Phone is enough to put a smile right back on Philia’s face. “Okay!”

Their master bathroom, usually an oasis of teal, tile, and warm brown accents, is practically a storm cloud as Patroclus enters, with its thick steam and the man brooding in the middle of it. He pulls the small stool over to the clear shower curtain and sits, slowly emitting calming pheromones. Over time, the steam helps the scent to spread, and he can hear Achilles sigh in relief.

“Did you need a Tylenol?”

“Already took one.”

“Long day?”

“Long week.” Achilles scoffs. “Your toddler has been on demon energy.”

“Has she?” It’s just a tease, but before Achilles can reply, the announcement rumble of their surround sound system vibrates through the floor. Patroclus opens it a sliver, to hear through the bedroom door what’s going on. An upbeat, joyous party song about throwing ass in a hot tub comes on, followed by fervent toy maraca shaking- she’s somehow learned to use the Bluetooth while he’s been gone, rather than settling for the phone speaker. Achilles smacks his head against the shower wall as Patroclus’ shoulders shake with laughter.

“Yes.”

“At least she doesn’t know what it’s about. Her rhythm is also impeccable.”

Even in his defeat, Achilles can’t help his ego. “My little dancer, of course her rhythm is impeccable. I just wish she would take a nap as easy as she finds trouble to get into.”

“Anyway, did something happen today to spark how you’re feeling right now?”

“…don’t worry about it.”

“Hmm,” Patroclus muses. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with how clean my car is, now? Thank you, by the way, for getting it washed.”

When Achilles just gives him a crestfallen face, eyes barely visible through the small opening in the curtain, Patroclus softly laughs again.

“Eurydice told me that she found her screaming the entire story to Kairos, and that you might need some help.”

Achilles turns back to the wall. “Damn kids. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, as long as you’re both safe and the car is clean. I don’t know why you were so stressed.”

“I just didn’t want you to be worried.”

“I’m always worried when I’m not here with you both. What’s the core issue, here? I know you, and I know it’s not just butter, or hot dogs, is it?”

Achilles swallows his scalding pride, and sighs.

“I just…” His voice quivers. “I’m not a bad parent. I don’t want you to always have to be the one mastering everything. I can handle emotional intelligence and self-control for fucks sake; I’m not the kid I used to be. I’m supposed to be growing! Besides, I already told everyone I had it handled. I felt like I was weak if I couldn’t handle one simple week alone, and I am not nor have I ever been weak.”

“No, you are not.”

“Every challenge in my life I’ve managed to overcome, but… your death-defying toddler is going to be the end of me.”

“I assure you that you’re not dying.”

“Are you sure? She tried to throw herself down the stairs for fun. She thought there were demons in the hallway and I nearly punt kicked her the night I found her out there. I almost had multiple heart attacks this week. Are you really sure?”

Patroclus’ heart drops with a sickening thud- Achilles had conveniently left all of this out of his nighttime stories. “Okay… we’re going to discuss both of those things in detail later. As for your parenting, there’s nothing wrong with swallowing your pride and admitting you need help, Achilles. You’re not weak nor a bad parent because you felt overwhelmed.”

“You’re not ever overwhelmed.”

“Not true at all. She once scared the life out of me.”

“When?”

“She was… two, I think? Still in pull ups but moving around on her own. You were out of town for a performance. I had her set up in the exercise room with me while I was working out. I thought I had her barricaded in properly; I didn’t notice her escape until she tripped and fell into the weights, hit her head, and started crying. I thought I was going to die, and I called Mom bawling. She rushed over and cleaned her up; turns out she only had a little cut on her head. But she still loves and trusts Papa, and she loves and trusts you- even if you both are pigheaded and don’t like being wrong.”

He grabs Achilles’ hand, thrust out in the middle finger, and kisses it. “As for your emotional intelligence, I appreciate the effort. But keep in mind that it’s not just knowing and being aware of your own emotions anymore. Philia is learning and watching, too. If I could hazard a guess, I think that she missed me and felt anxious the same way you did, and that’s why she’s been acting out. She wanted all of your attention and time, and it hurt her feelings to think that you didn’t want to be around her- she doesn’t know that you’re just anxious.”

“I-” Achilles tsks at himself, angry and ashamed. “See? I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry to me. But I’m sorry to the both of you. I’ve been distant because of work, lately, and it’s had an effect. I’ll make sure you both feel more supported- starting with tomorrow since we’ll have some well-needed alone time.”

“I would really, really like that.”

“Besides,” jokes Patroclus, “consider it retribution for all the demon energy you used to be on. Butter stuck in a wheel isn’t close to the shit we got up to in undergrad.”

Achilles grimaces; he knows he was a wild child that grew into an unhinged young adult before mellowing out by his thirties. He’ll have to call Thetis and apologize for the thousandth time for all the shit he put her poor heart through.

“I grew up.”

“Do you want her to grow up already?”

“No.” he whimpers. “Even better if she never does any of the foolish shit I pulled to prove points. May she never have to throw a single punch in her life.”

Patroclus shudders- it’s not a time either of them likes to think about, even if the therapy helped. “Indeed. I think she’ll be her own person and make her own choices, though.” Satisfied, he rises to leave. “When you’re done, come down and eat. Oh, by the way- you could have just let the butter melt and rinsed the tire later. It was hot out enough today that an hour would have sufficed. I would have never known.”

He snickers at how cherry red Achilles’ face grows, making Philia’s exact expression. “My daughter wanted to use the pressure washer! Just be glad the window isn’t cracked.”

“Why would I be- Oh hell, not that song- Phi! Unacceptable! You know that isn’t on your kids’ playlist!”

They’ve just finished eating and are still sitting at the table when Patroclus turns to Philia.

“So, Phi: tell me all about today, and then the rest of your week.”

Her face lights up, elated that he’s asked, but then she cuts off with a gasp. Slowly she turns to Achilles, and her expression shutters before she fidgets.

“Um,” she whispers, nervous.

Patroclus gives Achilles a severe look, eyes narrowed; not that he needed it, because Achilles’ heart shatters with guilt.

“Philia?” he whispers, just as meek. “I’m sorry for making you sad this week. It wasn’t nice of me. I was angry at myself, and I took that out on you. And you can tell Papa about today and still have your ice cream bars.”

Slightly leaned away, Philia side-eyes him- he is still unforgiven. Achilles pauses, thinking about what Patroclus told him.

“And I love spending time with you. I might not always want to play, but I still love you anyway. Can you forgive me for how I acted?”

“You said that I wasn’t in trouble but then you were angry! That was not the truth, and you’re supposed to tell the truth.” she accuses. “I can talk about today and not be in trouble?”

Achilles wants to kick himself for scaring her this much. “I was upset about the window, but that doesn’t mean you were in trouble. There’s no trouble. I’ll tell you the truth from now on.”

Patroclus nudges Achilles’ foot under the table, subtly wagging his pinky finger over the surface. Promise. If there was one thing their daughter was consistent on, it was keeping to one’s word.

Achilles tentatively holds out his hand in peace. “I promise.”

After a couple seconds, Philia grips his finger in acceptance. “Okay, Daddy.”

Still holding his hand, she barrels into her stories. It doesn’t take the harried yet smug look on Achilles’ face for Patroclus to see why else he had been so on edge. It was like the girl thought she was invincible, the confidence with which she spoke about things she didn’t quite understand but just knew she could bend to her will.

“And Daddy,” she finishes, gesturing grandly, “helped me with everything! It was the best week ever!”

The best week ever. All it took was an apology and suddenly, it was the best week ever. Achilles’ face scrunches up as he tries to avoid honored tears- he’s really got to keep doing better. Patroclus nudges him, proud. Everything was going to be okay- especially because next time Patroclus has to go out of town, he’s going to call everybody he can. Now that he’s past the situation, it almost seems silly that he was ever worried.

As if though things couldn’t get any better, after dinner she falls right asleep after a couple rounds of triumphant zoomies, leaving her fathers to two extra-large glasses of wine and a heavy, long needed make out on the couch.