Not the washing machine

[gwenchan]

Fandom: Iliad
Characters: Patroclus, Achilles
Prompt: Interruzione
Tag: Alternate Universe_Modern

There was something relaxing about cutting vegetables. It must be the repetitive movement of the knife against the cutting board, like a form of meditation; or the rhythmic, thumpic sound that came with it. With its regularity it reminded Patroclus of a beating heart.

Everytime it soon erased all other sounds, the television he had turned on to catch on the recent news reduced to background noise. A heat wave was predicted to come from North Africa in the next few days. Some towns in the south were already experiencing droughts and water shortages. People were advised to reduce consumption to a bare minimum, stay indoors, avoid baths and only take quick showers. The usual, as far as he could remember. Each summer the same story and each time people panicked, as if droughts hadn’t been the normalcy for centuries.

Thinking about it, still, they should buy some water bottles just in case, as a backup plan.

 He held down the vegetables with one hand, as the knife rushed up and down in a fluid movement honed by years of practice and would cost him one finger if he got distracted. But he wouldn't. 

"Pat?"

Not even if his partner decided it was a good idea walking on him out of nowhere. 

At least one cut was still a little thing 

"What?" 

To be fair, He didn’t mean to sound as harsh as he put his finger under the cold running water to wash away the blood.

Meanwhile, his mind was already running through the worst cases scenarios. He knew already by Achilles' tone and how much he drawled his name, it meant trouble. 

Pouring the just cut vegetables into a bowl, he prayed it would be something easily fixable; something not too expensive 

"It's the washing machine …"

And there went his hopes. 

"The one we explicitly decided you wouldn't touch?"

Along with the dishwasher, the oven, and basically any other appliance in the house. For the many talents Achilles had, housekeeping wasn't among them and after the third fault it became abundantly clear. It wasn't that surprising, with his coming from a rich family were laundry had always been up to one of the maids.

"Actually it was your decision," Achilles pointed out. He was standing in the middle of the kitchen, bare footed, in  shorts and tank top, soapy hands wringling one towel.

"And what with it?" Patroclus braced for the worst. It would be the third broken appliance since they rented the apartment

"It makes a strange sound."

"What strange sound?"

Strange sounds were never a good sign to begin with. 

"Sort of like a buzzing. But with something more metallic"

If Achilles' imitations were half similar to the original, it was definitely not good

Now that Achilles brought his attention to the problem, the washing machine was indeed making a whole hell more noise than usual. 

"And it's leaking soap"

That wasn’t good either.Definitely not good. Not at all.

"I followed the instructions," Achilles insisted, as they walked to the bathroom.

"Did you?"

From direct experience, Achilles' way of following instructions has always been taking them more like suggestions, broad guidelines than strict rules. And he had the tendency to err on the side of abundance; that summed wth a short temper didn't help.

"Exactly how much detergent did you use?"

The washing machine wasn't simply leaking soap. It vomited it from every orifice. 

Then, there was the noise.

Crouching to examine the drum through the porthole it became soon clear Achilles had decided to load it to the brim.

"What?" He snapped both hands up in defense. "It's only one kilos more."

"Just one kilo," Patroclus repeated, lifting one eyebrow, as soapy water ran in several rivulets toward his feet.

The washing machine whines louder, an agonizing metallic lament, crying tears of foam.

"I wanted to save on energy and water," Achilles said, stubborn, as the washing machine rattled.

Then, softer, and the closest he could be to sounding guilty, he added.

"Look, I wanted to help. With your exams and stuff."

Patroclus dropped his hands.

"I know. Let's try to turn this off for a start."

With some luck maybe the washing machine would be salvageable. One thing at a time. He made a list in his mind as Achilles already retrieved towels to dry the floor. 

And hen tomorrow, he thought as he filled the sink to wash away the excess detergent from the clothes, it’ll be time for a speed-run course in housekeeping.