[ Iliad ] Bisection
FOR igrab ♥
Title: Bisection
Fandom: Homerverse (slight AU)
Rating: pg
Pairing: AchillesxPatroclus
Summary: The irony is not lost on him--the prince dressing his once-squire for battle--but he can't not do this.
--
It is silent in the tent as Achilles reaches for his armor. He straps his cuirass around Patroclus' broad chest, admiring the battle-worn metal to avoid meeting the other man's eyes. The irony is not lost on him--the prince dressing his once-squire for battle--but he can't not do this. He needs to take as much of the upcoming fight into his own hands as possible; only then can he bear to send Patroclus into the fray alone.
It has been nearly ten years now since they swore always to fight side by side--each to follow where the other leads, and neither to lead where the other cannot follow. Achilles does not know which of them is responsible for the way that vow is splintering between them, but he doesn't think it matters either way. He can't resent his friend any more than his friend can resent him. They know that they are powerless against this division between them (although they know it in different ways, Patroclus facing it with dignity as Achilles acknowledges it only grudgingly, bitterly, hating it and fighting it and stubbornly pretending that he can will it away.) The war that reunited them has finally succeeded in pulling them apart--painstakingly making two men out of one entity.
Achilles sinks to his knees and slides his greaves over the other man's shins, fastens the silver clasps in the back carefully before rising.
"Remember what I said," he orders, as he hands over his sword, and Patroclus smiles quietly at him as he closes his fingers over the hilt.
"I will."
Lips meet lips, and Achilles forgets to worry.
A/N: Achilles actually amasses the Myrmidons while Patroclus gears up, but damn it if this scene wasn't adorable in my head.
Title: Bisection
Fandom: Homerverse (slight AU)
Rating: pg
Pairing: AchillesxPatroclus
Summary: The irony is not lost on him--the prince dressing his once-squire for battle--but he can't not do this.
--
It is silent in the tent as Achilles reaches for his armor. He straps his cuirass around Patroclus' broad chest, admiring the battle-worn metal to avoid meeting the other man's eyes. The irony is not lost on him--the prince dressing his once-squire for battle--but he can't not do this. He needs to take as much of the upcoming fight into his own hands as possible; only then can he bear to send Patroclus into the fray alone.
It has been nearly ten years now since they swore always to fight side by side--each to follow where the other leads, and neither to lead where the other cannot follow. Achilles does not know which of them is responsible for the way that vow is splintering between them, but he doesn't think it matters either way. He can't resent his friend any more than his friend can resent him. They know that they are powerless against this division between them (although they know it in different ways, Patroclus facing it with dignity as Achilles acknowledges it only grudgingly, bitterly, hating it and fighting it and stubbornly pretending that he can will it away.) The war that reunited them has finally succeeded in pulling them apart--painstakingly making two men out of one entity.
Achilles sinks to his knees and slides his greaves over the other man's shins, fastens the silver clasps in the back carefully before rising.
"Remember what I said," he orders, as he hands over his sword, and Patroclus smiles quietly at him as he closes his fingers over the hilt.
"I will."
Lips meet lips, and Achilles forgets to worry.
A/N: Achilles actually amasses the Myrmidons while Patroclus gears up, but damn it if this scene wasn't adorable in my head.