[original idea by likehemmins on Tumblr. I've tweaked a few things of course - but main credit goes to them ♥️]

So Patroclus's been majorly set up by some douche he met online. He was really looking forward to the date as well: he got prepared and put his favourite clothes on, and even booked a table at a fancy restaurant.

Patroclus tries messenging his date, sending the location and what not, but nothing. All the messages have been read, but no reply. Pat assumes they're probably on their way and it'll only be a few more minutes, but those few minutes pass, and another few, and before long an hour of anxiously waiting and fidgeting, spying the streets and staring at cars going by has gone by.

And in such a high-class restaurant, it's being noticed. People are beginning to talk, and Patroclus is noticing. It's not bad - per se - but "What a poor young gentleman. What kind of women would let such a sweet individual down like this? He's even waited for her!" Aren't exactly encouraging in his plight. Especially considering that the "young lady" was Paris, the son of a fairly influencial family.

Perhaps those rumors about Paris were true. Perhaps he really is smitten with Helen. Perhaps they're rolling around as happy couples do while Patroclus waits.

And he's tracing any signs of anyone in the crowd outside, he locks eyes with a stranger. Blue eyes, blonde hair, a rather girl-like face but nonetheless very much male. Patroclus recognises the image - and while he tugs at strings for where he saw them, they approach the door. Absorbed in thought, he only barely registers the following conversation at the door.

"Hello. So you have a table booked?"

"Ah yes - as a matter of a fact, my partner's already in door."

"Is that so? Well then, have a pleasant dinner."

"Yes, thank you! You too, when you get round to it."

However, he does register that same figure approaching his table, pulling up a chair, before loudly declaring "Sorry I'm so late babe! The boss called me, and then the traffic, it all piles up." Before sitting down and leaning close. "Listen, I don't who is the dick that set you up, but just roll with it. I'm Achilles."

He promptly relies where he saw him. Getting off a bus earlier that evening, when they locked eyes before Pat anxiously checked his phone. Achilles had waited at the bus stop, all while the two occasionally made eye contact before Achilles had walked off. And here he was now, enthusiastically making an order in a black suit. Fitting for this place, but very obviously not fitting for him.

The night went tremendously well. In hindsight, probably better then the night with Paris ever could have been. Afterall - with how vain Paris can be - three hours couldn't have gone by with laughter and flirting like the three had with Achilles. The two walk out the restaurant, Achilles slowly tangling his hand around Pat's, when he decides to make a suggestion.

"Hey, this may seem odd, I mean - we did only just meet- but my apartment is around the corner, would you like to come round? For tea... Or something?"

While Pat's fairly certain his cheeks have flushed to the colours of a beetroot, he laughs, cheerfully adding "Yes! That would be lovely!"