Page 12 of The Trickster's Heart

Hercules looked taken aback, an expression on his face that Hermes couldn’t quite place. “I don’t think anything of you.” It wasn’t said unkindly, but rather an honest admission that Hercules held no preconceived notions of Hermes.

Hermes froze. “You don’t?” There was a sad, hopeful twinge to his voice that made him blush in embarrassment. To his mortification, he could see that Hercules caught it, the corners of his mouth turning upward in a slight smirk.

“I don’t care for the gods.” Hercules shrugged. “I haven’t really spent much time delving into their reputations.”

“Oh. Well, my reputation is abysmal, just so you know.” Hermes tried to put some gaiety in his tone, but he only sounded sadder. He realized without his carefully constructed reputation doing the heavy-lifting for him, Hermes felt suddenly stripped bare in front of Hercules.

“I’d like to decide that for myself.” Hercules’s smirk widened into a grin. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

“Do whatever you want,” Hermes pulled some of his bravado back to the surface, “just fucking listen to me when I tell you to do something down here, alright?”

Hercules studied Hermes for a brief second until he held up his hands as if in surrender.

“It’s the least I could do,” Hercules walked past Hermes, nudging him with his shoulder. “You did listen to me so well the other evening. I’m happy to return the favor.”

Hermes stared after Hercules, stunned, and found himself without a retort—by his own calculation, it had been at least two-hundred years since the last time he’d been rendered speechless.

He kicked off the ground and floated after Hercules, hovering off the ground at just the right height to be eye-to-eye with him. The pair headed off down the dark hallway, diving deeper towards the Underworld.

* * *

The next three days were the most challenging of Hermes’s life. Every interaction between Hercules and Hermes was either flirtatious or borderline vulnerable. They walked every day further and further down into the earth, only stopping at night. Hercules did so without any complaint, keeping up with the immortal without breaking a sweat.

Everything about Hercules made Hermes want to poke and prod until he cracked; he sensed that the hero was holding onto life with a too tight grip.

I wonder what happens when that grip shatters.

Hermes imagined it would be equally emotionally satisfying and debauched, but he cringed when he realized his heart might be getting caught up in those green eyes—and not just Hercules’s glorious biceps. There was a similar loneliness in Hercules’s eyes that made Hermes want to rip out his own and show it to Hercules to see if they matched.

The sensation was sudden and much too quick—even for a god with winged feet—and it made Hermes feel a little nauseous.

Hecate has to have a spell for this, right? He pondered as he held up a hand to Hercules, indicating they would stop for the night. Hermes had garnered up supplies for the trip, and Hercules began setting up their campsite without comment.

It was silent as they slipped off their sandals and pulled out bed rolls. Hermes supernaturally lit the kindling for the fire, and before long, they were sipping on wine and staring into the flames.

“Do you know when we’ll reach the Underworld?” Hercules was the first to break the silence. Hermes cringed a little inside. There were a multitude of ways that he could’ve brought Hercules to the Underworld in a matter of seconds, but when he recognized Hercules from the night before, he decided to stretch out the trip as long as possible.

“Tomorrow morning,” Hermes nodded. “We’re not far from one of the entrances now.”

“Mmm.” Hercules made a non-committal noise and turned back towards the fire.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, and that fact alone made Hermes jumpy. He wasn’t used to feeling peaceful in someone else’s presence or even being still around someone else for this long.

“So tell me,” Hermes leaned back against the cave wall, “why decide to be a god if you hate them so much?” The question had been burning in Hermes’s mind since he met Hercules. He expected to get some pushback, but Hercules answered easily.

“I’ll answer your questions if you answer some of mine.” Hercules raised a brow, and Hermes sat up straighter. Nothing got Hermes’s attention quicker than a game or a challenge, and this smelled of both.

Oh, I am in.

“Done.” Hermes’s smile was dangerous. “You first. Answer my question.”

“Revenge.” Hercules shrugged. “I’m doing it for revenge.”

“Well, you’re on track to being a god already, then.” Hermes’s tone was loaded. Hercules caught it, ever perceptive, and peered at Hermes over the flames.

“You already mentioned you don’t like your fellow immortal brethren,” Hercules commented. “Why don’t you like the other gods?”

Hermes’s lip curled slightly. He’d expected Hercules to ask something more… human and less perceptive.

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