Page 56 of Patron of Mercy

The man had wandered around the island buying things to fix an imaginary debt incurred by Hermes stealing things in his name. How very like Hermes. And how very unlike the Glaucus of Thanatos’s memory.

He’d done it for Thanatos, clearly. Did that make it any less sweet, that he’d been thinking about Thanatos’s feelings? Definitely not.

Lach’s beautiful eyes cracked open, a little red and irritated from the previous day’s stresses, but he smiled. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

They stayed there like that for a long while. Thanatos didn’t want to break eye contact, much less pull away when Lach was lying there in his arms, warm and sleep-ruffled and smiling up at him. When Lach’s gaze drifted off to one side and sadness seeped into his expression, Thanatos knew precisely what, or who, he was thinking about.

Misericordia. Lach’s best friend for who knew how many years, taken from him in an act of violence.

He tightened his hold on Lach, pulling him tight against his chest and petting his hair rhythmically.

They were interrupted some time later by Lach’s phone ringing. As much as Thanatos didn’t want to let him go, they still had a job to do. He loosened his grip, and Lach twisted to answer his phone while Thanatos sat up and stretched his loose muscles.

Lach had a quiet conversation that Thanatos didn’t listen to as he found his clothes and took his time dressing. Lach, meanwhile, dropped his phone on the bed, hopped up, and started buzzing around the room grabbing clothes. It was easy to see the moment he remembered his injury, when he reached for his shirt draped over the back of a chair and cringed. He slowed his rush to dress after that, thankfully.

“Something wrong?” Thanatos asked.

He sighed. “Martina got in this morning, and she’s kinda waiting on us.”

Thanatos frowned at that. He’d been unaware that they had things to do, or he’d have made better use of their morning and ensured they had arrived to pick up Lach’s friend on time.

As it was, Lach likely wouldn’t have a chance to eat, and that was no good. He might be immortal, but all that sticky red blood had been the worst reminder possible that Lach was not a god. He still needed human things to survive, like food, sleep, and not being shot.

Lach glared at the shirt he’d picked up for a minute before sighing and setting it aside. He groped through the previous day’s purchases before coming up, triumphant, with a different one. A short-sleeved button-down shirt. Thanatos wasn’t sure buttons were great for Lach’s shoulder, but maybe lifting his arm to put on something over his head was worse.

He watched as subtly as possible as Lach slipped the shirt on with relative ease and made surprisingly quick headway over the buttons. It was impressive, and made Thanatos wonder how often he injured himself and had to do things one-handed. Either way, as long as Lach was fine, there was no reason to injure his ego by offering to help.

When they finished and made it out to the street, though, and Lach made to get a taxi without considering food, Thanatos had to say something.

“You need breakfast.”

Lach grinned at him and nodded. “Yep. We’re going to meet Martina at this place in Thera with the best view on the island. Also, maybe the best pancakes in the world. You’ve gotta try them.”

That was better. Maybe Thanatos had wanted to keep Lach to himself for a while longer, but he couldn’t complain when the man was so easily agreeing to his demand. It helped that once they were in the cab, Lach leaned against him, pressing their sides tight together.

The island was small, so the cab ride was all too fast, and then Lach was pulling away to go inside. The view was beautiful; it was true. It still wasn’t as nice as that last morning on Misericordia, just the three of them and the sunrise.

They met Lach’s archaeologist friend at the table. Martina Paget was a substantial woman with a curvy figure, well-toned arm muscles, and a no-nonsense tone. Thanatos wasn’t sure why he took an immediate dislike to her. Maybe it was just that she was there, and as such, she took some of Lach’s attention. He wasn’t used to being so childish, but stranger things had happened.

“Babe,” Lach said, giving Thanatos a wicked grin, eyes sparkling, “this is Martina Paget, archaeologist extraordinaire. Martina, this is my boyfriend, Thanatos.”

She blinked at Thanatos for a second, eyes cloudy with confusion, brows drawn together. Then she gave a tiny, private smile and stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Thanatos. That’s a rather unusual name.”

He inclined his head. “I suppose it is. My parents are rather unusual.”

“I know the feeling,” she sighed.

“Not me,” Lach said, grin still in place, guileless and adorable as ever. He caught Thanatos’s eye and winked. It was all Thanatos could do not to forget about breakfast and drag him back to their room for the rest of the day.

Regardless of Thanatos’s own distractions, the moment they sat down to breakfast, Martina was all business. “I assume since you wanted my help here, we’re going to visit Akrotiri?” At Lach’s blank look she quirked an eyebrow. “The island’s excavation site? Enormous Bronze Age settlement?”

“Oh!” Lach motioned off to the south. “You mean—Yeah. Akrotiri. That place. With the... settlement.”

All Thanatos could do was try to hold down his laughter. Lach was exactly as awkward as he might have imagined when dealing with impossible-to-obtain historical information. Thanatos didn’t know what the mortals had called the island in ancient days, but it didn’t shock him that Lach remembered. And had a hard time pretending he didn’t.

Martina chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, clearly wanting to ask something, but then she shook her head and looked down at the table. “I’m not sure exactly what you’re expecting here, Lach. This dig site is incredible, but it’s more than fifty years old. They’re still working, but I haven’t heard of any major finds here in years.”

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