Achilles/Patroclus One-Shots

Anchor

Artwork by: @AviReiArts on Twitter

It seemed that Patroclus was cut out for practising medicine. The men came back from a battle, some more severely injured than others, Patroclus and the other physician got to work on trying to patch them up the best they could. He could stay calm and collected under pressure, blood and grime and bodily fluids of different kinds staining his clothes, it didn't get to him. He kept working as safely and as fast as he could, the majority of the time he was able to save the man, and set him on the path to full recovery.

Patroclus' ability to stay calm under pressure did not mean he was not affected by what was happening, no, quite the opposite, he was deeply affected; it just set in after the job was done and once he was alone. Especially if any of the men had died.

That was how Achilles found him down in a stream washing the blood and grime off his body and silently crying for the good men they had lost that day.

"Patroclus," Achilles said softly.

Patroclus startled, he had not heard Achilles approach. He turned to look at the young man quickly attempting to wipe the tears from his eyes. It was no use, they kept coming.

Achilles remained silent as he gracefully climbed down into the stream and waded his way over to Patroclus. "What troubles you?"

"What troubles me?" Patroclus scoffed. "You can't be serious, we lost good men today, Achilles," he snapped, though his voice remained hushed.

Achilles looked as though he had been stuck, Patroclus softened immediately, regretting lashing out. "I'm sorry, I'm angry, but I shouldn't take it out on you."

"How many?" Achilles asked, accepting the apology and moving past it.

"Five," Patroclus replied, comparatively to some other battles it was a low number of fatalities, that didn't make it any easier. "I lost them, I wasn't able to save them."

"You can't save everyone."

"I know," he sighed and he felt another tear roll down his cheek.

"But because of you, so many more men have been saved." Achilles reached out and gently wiped the tear away. Patroclus leaned into the touch, his face scrunching up slightly as he tried to hold back to tears. Achilles' gaze was at once concerned and reassuring.

"It just hurts so much," Patroclus croaked out as he looked down at his hands, all of the blood had been cleaned from them but he was still expecting there to be more, felt as if there was more stuck beneath his fingernails, but his hands were clean.

Slow tears continued to roll down his cheeks and he had given up trying to fight them. Achilles' hand came to rest just beneath his chin and tipped Patroclus' face up so Achilles look into his eyes.

"It hurts me to see you in so much pain, Philtatos," Achilles said softly.

"I'm sorry, you don't have to stick around me, go celebrate the victory," Patroclus immediately provided Achilles with an out, though Achilles did not take it. He would not abandon Patroclus when he needed him, needed someone to comfort him and be there for him. Achilles did not know what words could comfort Patroclus, so instead, he started kissing away Patroclus' tears.

That surprised Patroclus so much that he chuckled softly despite everything. When all of his tears had been kissed away Achilles pulled back and smiled at him, his hands laid flat against Patroclus' chest.

"I can think of something that will cheer you up," he smirked. "I quite enjoy it more than celebrating with the men too."

"Oh, really?" Patroclus found himself laughing again. Patroclus' arms snaked around Achilles' waist pulling the other man closer to him. "And what would that be?"

"I think you know?" Achilles smirked as he kissed Patroclus' neck.

"Mhm," Patroclus sighed, simply enjoying the feel of Achilles' lips against his skin. They rarely did this out in the open. Not that what was between them was really a secret, anyone who spent even just a short amount of time around them could tell there was more than just friendship there. They were just usually more private with their affection.

Achilles removed his lips from Patroclus' neck and he made a sound of protest that was swallowed when Achilles captured Patroclus' lips with his own.

"Let's get back to the tent." Patroclus broke the kiss, though not before sucking on Achilles' bottom lip. Achilles smiled back at him and nodded eagerly, leaning in to get another kiss from Patroclus.

"Hey," Achilles basically whined as Patroclus ducked out of the way, waded his way out of the river and pulled on his tunic.

Achilles huffed indignantly, waded out of the river himself, stopped briefly to ring out his own tunic, then he turned and looked at Patroclus. Some of the weight seemed to be lifted from his shoulders, but Achilles could see in his eyes that there was still a deep sadness there.

"Come on," Achilles said and took Patroclus' hand in his and led him back through the camp to their tent.

When they reached their tent, Achilles kissed him softly as he straddled Patroclus, and between kisses, he whispered reassurances to him. You are enough. You save so many. You are renowned by the men. You are good. You are kind. You are loved.

With each one Patroclus found himself believing Achilles just a little bit more. Achilles kissed him over and over until Patroclus forgot his pain and loss. Instead, getting lost in the throes of passion.

Achilles was his anchor, the only thing keeping him from drowning in the depths of his despair. Patroclus didn't know what he would do without Achilles there to ground him. And he hoped he would never have to find out, hoped that somehow the prophecy could be averted. That he would never have to see the day when Achilles didn't return from battle.