Ben is pushing against him, chest and belly and shoulders and thighs, all the length of his body. He can feel the tentacle slide out between them, curl around his back and pull him in closer, like some kind of fifth limb, and he can see the flattened spade at the end pressed against Ben's shoulder. It's weird, because he should probably be a little freaked out about that, but he isn't. The tentacles have been nothing but...well, polite, since Ben came back. Polite and gentle. Klaus hasn't ever seen them like that before, but he trusts Ben, and so he trusts that Ben can keep them under control, that they won't hurt him.

Instead of worrying about them, he focuses on touching Ben, one arm around his shoulders, the other still moving through his hair. Ben is shaking less, he's letting his weight rest against Klaus, and the water is nice and warm, and he just closes his eyes, his chest heaving once, twice, and then he's crying into Ben's hair, quiet and subdued, but unmistakable.

Ben says he doesn't ever want to let go because he's scared he won't be able to do it again, and Klaus nods, voiceless, agreeing, his fingers still moving shakily through Ben's hair.