Feeding the Enemy

Patrona stood in front of the stove, watching rice cook. Here she was, preparing the blandest of meals for the man she was stuck taking care of for the foreseeable future. A man that she knew only by reputation, who she absolutely detested for reasons she couldn’t explain, who might have been involved with her father’s death, and a man who, despite it all, she couldn’t help but see as handsome. His forest green eyes that should hold a cold emptiness, according to his reputation and the many rumors circulating about his habits, but instead held pain and loneliness, the same pain and loneliness Patrona saw when she looked in the mirror.

“You do realize that staring at the rice won’t make it cook any faster? Y’know, according to certain people, staring will slow it down.” There it was - his smooth, deep voice that washed over her like caramel. His stupid quip made her smile, but there was no way in hell that she would let him see that. Instead, she channeled her inner Ron Swanson and turned around. She’d never get over the shock of seeing his face. He was so handsome it didn’t make sense, especially not when she thought about all the things he was supposed to have done.

“Percy, I’m staring at the rice because it’s preferable to looking at you.” She left out you handsome twerp.

Percy raised a hand to his heart in feign surprise. “Oh, ow. Patra, you wound me.” There it was again. Patra. The nickname he’d given her yesterday that sent a knife through her heart. She didn’t want a nickname, especially not from him. Maybe she was just telling herself she didn’t want one because she felt she didn’t deserve one. Either way, nicknames were a negative thing.

“Okay, if this is going to work, we’re going to have to set some rules.”

“What?” Percy’s eyebrows knitted as his nose scrunched in distaste. Patrona could see the wheels of his mind turning, trying to think of a joke to make light of the situation, or her. The scar above his lip twitched as his lips twisted into a grin. He leaned forward on the kitchen island where he was seated, revealing the tattoos on his chest as his robe parted. “I know what this is. You want to control me. You know, doll, all you have to do is ask. Although I will admit, I do have a different kind of control in mind. Plus, I don’t think I’m going to be able to do much for you in my current condition, broken ribs and all.” Percy motioned to his sling and his bandages. “But maybe you’re into that…” Percy’s voice trailed off as his mouth turned into a smirk that almost made Patrona forget the rumors about Percy. Almost.

Despite the logical part of her mind, Patrona could feel her face and ears flush but hoped they weren’t as red as they felt. Percy being in nothing but a robe didn’t help the situation at all. The tattoos that decorated his shoulders and chest were an absolutely gorgeous depiction of Icarus falling from the sun. She felt a little bit like Icarus in that moment. She’d bitten off more than she could chew, and now she was falling into a situation she couldn’t control. Percy’s eyebrows were raised, but before he could say anything, Patrona was saved from another awkward situation by the timer telling her the chicken was done cooking.

She removed the chicken from the oven and began to shred it while she started her proposal. “Look, maybe rules wasn’t the best word to use. All I know is that we don’t have the best track record of getting along. We’ve interacted about three or four times so far, and I can’t stand you.”

“Can’t stand me in a good way, I hope.” Percy’s tone was teasing. This was going to drive Patrona insane.

“No, not at all. If we don’t set any boundaries for this time that we’re stuck here together, I’m afraid that you’ll feel an urge to kill me and I’ll poison your food at some point.”

“Well, that can be fixed. I can make my own food and you can -” Percy stopped. “Ah, no, that doesn’t work. Not a joke if I finish that, so we’ll just say that I’ll make my own food.”

“Your sensitivity to peoples’ issues astounds me. It’s not like you’ve killed for the most notorious crime family for years.” Patrona’s tone was flat, and despite what she said, she was not, in fact, impressed.

“You’re leaving out the word allegedly. Very important, I’m told.” Percy didn’t look hurt by Patrona’s words and distrust. He tried to cross his arms but winced in pain and decided to rest his hand on his hip. “So, I’ll be cooking for myself. Easier for both of us that way, I suppose.”

“No. Your ribs were severely damaged, and while complications that have to do with the stomach aren’t common, they can happen. You’re on a BRAT diet until I’m sure your digestive tract hasn’t been affected by your injuries.”

“A BRAT diet?”

“Yes, rather fitting, isn’t it?”

“Now I’m beginning to see what you meant about the not-getting-along bit.”

“Exactly.” Patrona got a tortilla and laid the salted shredded chicken on it. “Which is why we need to set up some boundaries. First, no going through each other’s stuff. I don’t want you in my business and I’m sure you don’t want me in yours.”

“Well, that depends on which kind of business you’re talking about. Work business, absolutely not. Pleasure business, however, I am completely down for.”

“That’s the second one.”

“What?”

“You can’t make sex jokes about me, or us. It makes me super uncomfortable.”

“Noted. Third, you don’t get to know how I get my injuries unless I deem it necessary.”

“Fine, I guess. Infection shouldn’t be a problem since I’ll be heavy-duty cleaning everything.” Patrona checked the rice, which was done cooking, and put it on Percy’s burrito too. She rolled it up and gave it to him.

“Alright, should we add a super cliche YA romance novel rule like ‘no falling in love’ or some crap like that?”

Patrona laughed, and Percy’s heart swelled. As much as she got on his nerves, she really was beautiful. He took a bite of the burrito she’d made for him, and even though it was made to be super bland, it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. Jeez, he thought to himself, talk about cliche YA romance.

“I don’t think the ‘falling in love’ rule will be necessary, seeing as we can’t stand each other. Besides, we’re adults. We’d have to choose some other trope, like being stuck in a house together for an unknown amount of time.”

This time it was Percy’s turn to laugh. It was the first time she’d laughed with him like this, seeing as she’d been nothing but a stone wall before. “Yeah, how ridiculous would that be?”

And then they laughed together because there was nothing else they could do. They were stuck, bruised and beaten, unable to leave a strange house that neither of them could call home. The world was falling apart and they only had each other to hold on to, each of them beginning to realize that they might not hate the other as much as they thought they did.