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Silence. The woods they tread through, still not far from the walls of Troy, are utterly silent.
There should be crickets chirping, maybe owls hooting in the dark night.
But there is nothing but silence.
The air feels tense and charged, and Diomedes cannot understand why. He's hyperfocused on every little detail, every little sound. Something feels off, and he can't figure out why.
Alas, it would seem his behavior does not go unnoticed.
From somewhere behind him, Odysseus speaks and Diomedes tries his best to not visibly startle, "why are you so tense, my friend?"
The viper's tone was off, but Diomedes could not discern it.
Stupidly, Diomedes grows defensive, "am I?"
"Diomedes," Odysseus' tone is that of a reprimand, like scolding a child, and the Argive knows better than to argue or ignore. For a moment though, he does not wish to turn around and considers simply continuing on, but then he sighs in resignation.
When he faces Odysseus, the Ithacan is looking at him with pursed lips and furrowed brows, eyes scanning like he's searching for something. Diomedes thinks he does a pretty good job at keeping his expression carefully neutral, because there's a flicker of frustration in Odysseus' eyes and then he's avoiding eye contact.
"Something's on your mind," Odysseus observes quietly, almost nervously, returning his gaze to Diomedes with newfound softness. It's fake, of course. Diomedes knows that and yet, he still falls for it everytime.
This is the man he fell in love with, after all. The one who can spin webs of pretty little lies with actions and words.
"I was just thinking," Diomedes mutters in reply. He notes the arm held behind Odysseus' back, affirming his right to be suspicious.
"About?" Odysseus presses, that very arm twitching, giving up on being inconspicuous.
Diomedes ponders his answer, he does. He could be truthful, because at this point they both know that Odysseus has been caught and now they are just acting like fools. Maybe, afraid of what would happen if it was brought to attention. And, isn't this what Diomedes does all of the time? Willingly lets himself be lied to, ignoring every little untruth, because Odysseus has been the only source of comfort for him and that- is not something he could let go of so easily. Odysseus hurts him, yes, but he is also one of the only things Diomedes has in this war. He gives Diomedes what he wants.
The thing about Odysseus is that he is cunning. He is smart, he is tricky, he is a snake. Every word that comes from his mouth is designed to manipulate the situation, but he is also so good at false niceties.
And right now, Diomedes could see the way Odysseus was looking at the Palladium statue, to which the Argive subconciously holds tighter against his side in response. Odysseus was looking at it like he was thinking of doing something dangerous, and Diomedes was almost curious how he could talk himself out of whatever it is he is thinking if it happened to fail.
Oh, and it would fail. Diomedes was not going to deal with this for much longer, and he was not feeling up to giving Odysseus the opportunity to do whatever it is he wanted to do. Their eyes meet again, and Odysseus actually freezes at the king of Argos' cold and unreadable gaze. Lacking the warmth he would usually look at Odysseus with.
It's a tense moment as Diomedes watches Odysseus' eyes flicker from the treeline and then back to him.
Finally, Odysseus speaks again, as if he wasn't just trying to find a way out. "Let's go back to the camp, Diomedes," his voice is placating, akin to how one would speak to a wild animal that could spook and even retaliate. Perhaps, that is exactly what Diomedes is right now.
He does not feel like himself.
He needs reasurrance. That this is not the day he'll die, stabbed in the back by his own friend, if he chooses to turn away.
So Diomedes lays himself open, a trick and a distraction, and closes the scant distance between them. Odysseus' facade falters, his face falling and his gaze dropping to the ground instantly. But Diomedes only hums, and places a single finger underneath Odysseus' chin to lift his head. Much to the Ithacan's surprise, judging by his widened eyes, raised brows, and parted lips. Speaking of… Diomedes' own gaze drops then.
He does not hesitate to lean in, eyes lidding. Given, he gives Odysseus enough time to pull away if he so chooses. But he doesn't, and their lips meet in a short, soft little kiss.
And then Diomedes is pulling away, and turning his back on the predator once more.
In the end, Odysseus sheathes the knife he once held behind his back, and follows Diomedes.
He could not go through with it.
He could not kill the man that he may love, just to sever this weakness.
Not when Diomedes can kiss him so fondly, and look at him like he's worth everything.