Patroclus had been lying awake for hours, furious enough to keep his eyes open long after the camp had gone quiet. Achilles had left after their argument without another word, disappearing to the shore to speak with his mother.
So when the tent flap shifted near midnight, Patroclus heard it immediately.
Achilles stepped inside dripping seawater onto the floor, hair soaked, skin cold from hours in the sea.
Before Patroclus could say anything, Achilles lay down behind him and pressed a freezing hand against his back.
Patroclus jerked violently.
“YOU SON OF A BITCH! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU”
Achilles ignored the shouting completely. He only wrapped an arm around Patroclus’s waist and buried his face between his shoulders, cold and wet and stubbornly silent.
“Get THE FUCK OFF me,” Patroclus snapped, shoving at his arm. “Achilles i swear to gods damn you let fucking go.”
Achilles only held tighter.
For what felt like hours, Patroclus cursed him, elbowed him, tried to pry himself free while Achilles clung to him like a drowning man.
Eventually, somewhere past midnight, the fight drained out of him. Achilles was still cold against his back.
Patroclus swore one last time under his breath and stopped struggling. Achilles loosened slightly at once, like he had been waiting for permission to breathe.