Page 31 of The Trickster's Heart

“If you even think I would do something like that, then this proves my point—”

Hercules grabbed Hermes’s jaw and kissed him, effectively cutting off his tirade. Hercules could see Hermes was beginning to talk in circles, flailing through excuses to masquerade his self-doubt.

Hercules wrapped his arm around Hermes’s waist and pulled him close, so their bodies were flush together. He poured everything he had for Hermes into the embrace. Hermes froze in surprise for only a moment before he was kissing Hercules back, threading his hands up into Hercules’s hair and pressing himself up against the hero. When they finally pulled away, they were gasping, mirroring each other’s flushed cheeks and gasping breaths.

“I know,” Hercules murmured. “You’re scared. I know you think you have a pre-determined role, and therefore, a pre-determined importance in people’s lives. I don’t care. I want you now. I’ll want you when I’m a god. I’ll want you until the end of time, Hermes. No matter how this adventure started, this is how I want it to end. With you.”

Stunned silence followed as Hermes’s mouth dropped open. He scanned Hercules’s face rapidly, as if he was searching for any signs of deception, and when he found none, tears welled up in his eyes.

“You can’t mean that.” Hermes shook his head, but his voice lacked all conviction.

“I do,” Hercules insisted, pressing another gentle kiss to Hermes’s hair. “I’d love to know your thoughts on the matter.” He cleared his throat. “I’m feeling a little vulnerable here, Hermes.”

Hermes’s expression pivoted entirely until he was beaming like Apollo, his entire being glowing with gold. He threw his arms around Hercules’s neck and squeezed, launching himself as best as he could from a prone position on top of Hercules.

Hercules started laughing, a rich, happy sound, and rolled over onto his back, taking Hermes with him. Hermes shuffled until he was straddling Hercules’s waist before leaning down and kissing his nose.

“I want you, too, Hercules of Thebes. Today, tomorrow, until the end of time.”

Hercules’s answering smile could’ve rivaled the sun. They were slow to get out of bed after that, spending a little precious time in deliriously happy slowness—slow touches, slow kisses, slow strokes.

Everything about their lives had been an onslaught of speed and achievement, and they took their time abandoning their pretenses and unwrapping each other that morning bit by bit, until their nakedness went far beyond the physical. By the time they made their way down to the kitchen, Hecate’s house was still empty.

“Do you think Hecate—”

Hermes was interrupted by a loud baying sound that cut through the kitchen like a whip. It was an aggressive, unhesitant noise that threatened violence and terror. It sounded like nothing that Hercules had ever heard before, and he had faced more than his fair share of beasts.

Hercules brandished his sword as quick as a blink, reaching his spare hand out for Hermes. Hermes, however, didn’t seem threatened in the slightest. He allowed himself to be pulled closer to Hercules, trailing a finger down Hercules’s chest.

“We really need to talk about your over-protective tendencies, pet,” he giggled, “but frankly, I don’t seem to care.”

“What the fuck was that noise?”

“Did you expect Cerberus to sound like a house cat?” Hermes scoffed, leading the way to the courtyard. Hercules followed dutifully behind, keeping his sword outstretched.

As they stepped outside, Hercules’s jaw dropped, and his grip on his sword faltered. He was used to seeing the beasts of the gods, from the Nymean lion to the Erymanthian boar. Nothing, however, prepared him for the sight of the hellhound.

Cerberus stood as tall as a warhorse, almost taller than Hercules himself. The massive canine did possess the three heads of legend, but other than its size and multiple faces, it looked like any other molossus.

“Cerby!” Hermes shouted exuberantly, going up to the dog and scratching all the heads he could reach. Hercules held his breath, but Cerberus rolled over on his back and kicked its legs in the air. Even with three heads, it was hard for a dog to be intimidating when it was begging for pats.

“Who’s a good boy?” Hermes cooed, dutifully getting down on the ground next to Cerberus and scratching his belly. Hercules chuckled and sheathed his sword, coming up behind the god and squeezing his shoulder.

“You are,” Hercules answered, getting the surprise squeak out of Hermes he’d been hoping for. Hermes didn’t engage otherwise but stood, gesturing towards the pathway out of the courtyard.

“Ready to give Eurystheus the fright of his life?” Hermes grinned, full of mischief, the wings on his sandals fluttering to life.

“Always,” Hercules exhaled slowly as the magnitude of what was happening continued to overwhelm him.

It’s almost over.

Without much ceremony, Hercules and Hermes started walking towards the gates of the Underworld once more, Cerberus wagging his tail and following obediently.

The pleasant silence between them had returned, a comfortable, peaceful quiet. After a few minutes, Hercules reached out and grabbed Hermes’s hand, silently praying for acceptance. Hermes said nothing but only smiled in return, weaving his fingers through Hercules’s as he led the hero out of hell.

* * *

Hermes couldn’t remember the last time he was this content, strolling through the fields of the Underworld with Hercules’s hand in his. The air was warm, and every time someone greeted them, Hercules didn’t drop Hermes’s hand or try to hide his affiliation with him.

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