A/N: *silence* *long sigh* Well it was going to happen eventually.
I mean it's ACHILLES and PATROCLUS. Aka the first ever best-friend-to-lover OTP. Aka the original gay Greek couple (fight me Homer!). Aka precious cinnamon rolls too pure for this world. Aka- okay, that's enough, deep breath *inhale* phew, alright, okay, I'm calm. Ahem. So, in case it is still unclear to you (here I am addressing the Andersons and Umbridges of the audience), this is obviously an Achilles/Patroclus fanfic. Fun fact that you probably don't care about: this was inspired by that scene from Trials of Apollo: The Hidden Oracle by Rick Riordan (if you haven't already then go read it- and also what have you been doing with your life?!) where Apollo is talking about how Percy and Calypso's reunion was tenser than when Patroclus met Achilles' war prize Briseis (hint, hint, nudge, nudge). So enjoy! (And please R&R...)
Disclaimer: I obviously own nothing. I mean duh. I'm pretty sure Plato and Rick Riordan have better things to do than troll readers and write fanfictions! ...Wait...
*distant yelling* SERIOUSLY! FIGHT ME HOMER! *has to be restrained by security guards and dragged away still screaming*
"Patroclus, this is Briseis..."
The rest of Achilles' sentence was drowned out by the sudden rush of blood in Patroclus' ears as a tide of emotions and thoughts swept over him. At first there was confusion, then there was anger, followed by betrayal and finally the slightest tinge of jealousy. But underneath all that, there was also some other constant feeling he couldn't quite put a label on.
Patroclus inhaled calmly and summoned the will of mind to look at Briseis without attempting to disintegrate her body with his eyes. Achilles' war prize (the thought made him as nauseous as when Agamemnon had first told him about her, which had gone about as smoothly as the Trojans' response to Helen being kidnapped) was, in a word, stunning. Briseis' face was sublimely carved, with sharp features and smooth contours, like that of a porcelain doll; her eyes were an enticing electric blue, with long lashes and flawlessly arched eyebrows; her hair was a rich, golden-brown color, her lips red and full, and her curves were luscious. A perfect match for the perfect warrior.
Patroclus clenched his teeth in an effort not to growl. He gave Briseis a polite nod. She inclined her head in return. Achilles grinned, for once, utterly and blissfully oblivious to his best friend's emotions. But this was not to say for the others, Odysseus, Agamemnon and Ajax were staring with widened eyes and arched eyebrows between Patroclus and Briseis, their heads turning back and forth as if they were witnessing a particularly intense discus game. Then, as Achilles smiled and patted Patroclus on the shoulder- also sending a quick glance to Briseis- and wandered off to find his tent, the group all simultaneously sighed (Odysseus face-palming in exasperation).
And if anyone dared to ask why, even long after Briseis had left, Patroclus' eye was still twitching incessantly, then gods have mercy on their poor soul.
Patroclus lounged in the shadows of the tent doorway with crossed arms and a blank expression. He appeared to be perfectly still and uncaring, but his clenched fists and fiery glare gave him away. Internally, he cursed Agamemnon and the rest of the crew to Tartarus and back for taking such a long time to arrive to the meeting. It wasn't really that Patroclus cared particularly much about the meeting itself, but rather that once it started, Briseis would be sent back to her tent, and then Achilles would finally direct his attention away from his sultry war prize.
As if on cue, Briseis bent to pour more wine into Achilles' cup, taking the opportunity to suggestively display her cleavage. Patroclus saw red, but he fought down the urge to scream and murder someone, that someone more than likely being Briseis. Instead, he swiftly looked away from the couple, not wanting to witness anymore flirty, half-lidded looks from Briseis or Achilles' friendly and affectionate responses. Because, though he would deny it to his dying day, seeing the two interact in such a manner stirred up feelings long buried and forgotten, and made his heart ache more than any wound he had suffered from in battle.
Suddenly, the tent flap snapped open and Odysseus strode through, quickly followed by Ajax, Diomedes, Menelaus and Agamemnon. Briseis and Achilles both looked up at the same time, Briseis appearing rather more miffed at being interrupted than Achilles, which Patroclus couldn't help but rejoice at. As expected, Agamemnon sent a pointed look towards Achilles and Briseis, which was met with Achilles' usual response- a heavy dose of huffing and irritation at having to follow orders from his commanding officer, but Briseis exited anyway. Much to the satisfaction of Patroclus, who discreetly flashed her a smug look. Odysseus, who obviously noticed, promptly raised an eyebrow; Patroclus pretended that he hadn't noticed.
The meeting progressed more smoothly from there, running about as successfully as it always did. Which, of course, translates to it resulting in utter mayhem.
Achilles and Agamemnon butted heads even worse than usual, and any small liking that Patroclus had for the man regarding him dismissing Briseis rapidly dissipated. Every suggestion Achilles or Agamemnon made was instantly countered by the other, and very soon their arguing escalated into full fledged yelling. Thus the rest of the conference was spent with Ajax and Patroclus frantically trying to restrain Achilles from murdering his commanding officer, and Diomedes and Menelaus attempting (but failing rather spectacularly) to calm down Agamemnon. Only Odysseus remained calm and collected enough to resume the rest of the meeting and orchestrate the battle plan, which he did with a vexed shake of his head.
Finally, as had happened many a time before, an enraged Achilles stormed out with a twisted scowl and headed for his own tent, shortly followed by Patroclus.
Achilles glared with ferocity straight ahead as Patroclus wandered in and sat down beside him with a sigh. However, his glare quickly dropped when Patroclus' leg accidentally brushed against his and a bolt of electricity coursed up his body. Then Patroclus put a comforting hand on his shoulder and Achilles had to restrain himself from sighing in content and leaning into the touch. He turned his head to say something but Patroclus gave him a small smile and his words were lost on his lips. So neither said anything, instead letting a comfortable silence hang between them, and Achilles wondered how Patroclus did it, or even if he realized he was doing it. How was it that one touch, one smile- his very presence- could instantly evaporate Achilles' sour mood? How could Patroclus have such an effect on him?
"I don't say it very often..." Achilles said suddenly, "But I'm glad you're here."
Patroclus let a full-blown smile grace his lips, the tiniest spark of hope igniting in him again.
"You're my best friend, Patroclus."
Patroclus barely hid his grimace.
"Of course... friends." Patroclus echoed hollowly.
Patroclus almost felt guilty at the rush of grim satisfaction when his best friend told him about how Agamemnon had stolen Briseis. Nevertheless, he comforted Achilles through his stages of anger and depression, followed then by more anger. And if he appeared slightly too happy and triumphant in the days after? Well, it certainly had nothing to do with the departure of Achilles' ex-war prize. That would be preposterous.
Achilles paced furiously up and down his tent, his knuckles were clenched so tightly that they had turned white.
"You carry on like that and you're going to wear a hole in the ground straight to the Underworld."
Achilles ignored the voice of Patroclus- who was reclining casually on Achilles' bed- and continued pacing angrily. Seeing that his friend wasn't going to respond Patroclus sighed and tried again, "Look Achilles, this really isn't such a big deal, there's no need to get so worked up."
Achilles snorted derisively, rounding on Patroclus who had risen and was giving him an unimpressed look, "Not a big deal?" Achilles demanded, crossing his arms stubbornly, "The petty cretin stole Briseis from me!"
Something unidentifiable flashed across Patroclus' face, but it was gone so fast that Achilles couldn't pin-point what it was. With a sigh, Patroclus moved to Achilles' side, taking one of his hands in his in an effort to defuse his temper and tense stature.
"Well you still have little old me, you know." Patroclus joked, trying to make light of the conversation. He realized he was still holding Achilles' hand and quickly jerked his arm away as if he had been burnt. Achilles flexed the hand Patroclus had held, eying his friend with an odd expression but Patroclus didn't meet his gaze.
"Yes, I suppose I do." Achilles murmured, he squinted his eyes, had there been some trick of the light or was Patroclus blushing?
The peculiar atmosphere was speedily shattered by Patroclus, who desperately wanted to divert the conversation, "Will you come back to fight now?" he asked.
Achilles' features darkened, "No," he answered in a clipped tone.
Patroclus threw his hands up, fixing Achilles with a cold glare that looked very much out of place in his usually serene hazel eyes, "By the gods Achilles, it's one woman!"
Achilles was too shocked by Patroclus' outburst to retaliate. Patroclus never raised his voice and rarely ever looked at anyone with a mean gaze. He was strangely compassionate and kind for a soldier, his eyes always sparkling in amusement and his expression alway bright and charismatic. But those were the features that Achilles loved best about him. His youthful joy, twinkling laugh, ever present smile and gentle voice. Patroclus was special, there was something placid and steadfast about him, he was like a gentle brook or stream, and Achilles drew power and comfort from that. To see Patroclus upset and hear him raise his voice in such a manner more than worried Achilles.
"Patroclus..." Achilles spoke softly in that special voice reserved for no one but his best friend to hear, "What's wrong?"
Patroclus turned away in pain and shame before squaring his shoulders and steeling himself, "I'm in love with you, you idiot." He snapped, but there was no bite in his voice.
Achilles was silent and Patroclus cringed, hating himself for blurting out the truth, hating himself for his feelings and emotions, but mostly for ruining things with his best friend. Achilles probably hated him now, he probably wouldn't ever talk to him again, he had destroyed everything, Achilles probably- Achilles was standing right in front of him. Patroclus looked up at him meekly from beneath his bangs and swallowed nervously. But instead of yelling or throwing something, Achilles tilted Patroclus' head carefully and then pressed their lips together.
The world exploded into heat and colors, and Patroclus tasted figs and wine. The kiss was sweet and tender at first, just a light brush of the lips, but soon their hunger and passion overcame their boundaries and the two were trying to mold into each other, hands grasping and wandering and mouths devouring one another whole. Moans and gasps filled the heated air around the pair and Patroclus could have sworn he felt sparks flying around them. They stumbled clumsily towards the bed, kissing and fumbling to remove their clothing at the same time, and giggling stupidly when they collapsed awkwardly on top of the bed.
Their laughter gradually faded out and they remained lying down, foreheads pressed together and hands clasped, breathing heavily in sync.
"I love you too." Achilles muttered finally. Patroclus kissed him again.
A/N: So obviously, the characters will appear majorly OOC, and I probably got a lot of things wrong regarding the story, but I'm not Plato. Feel free to fight about it in the comments (seriously, fight me, flame me, anything, I've had no reviews for my last three stories or so, ACKNOWLEDGE MY EXISTENCE PEOPLE!)