fic: RPS: Don't Shoot the Messenger (1/1)
Title: Don't Shoot the Messenger
Author: Havenward
Fandom: RPS (Apollo AU)
Pairings: Kane/Carlson, Ackles/TBR
Rating: PG13
Words: 834
Note: I blame this entirely on raggedy_edge. I was not going to expand the presence of the gods in this universe. However, I've enabled her into playing in my sandbox, so I won't feel too bad about it. Keep an eye out for her stuff, yeah? The only thing you need to know is that this is written from Matt Bomer's perspective.
Summary: It really isn't my fault no one listens for the gods anymore, so try to pay attention...
It’s a quiet night, all told, but then, Portland is on the quiet end, so far as cities go. It’s a gorgeous place, really, and if I’m honest, I’m kind of pleased that everything’s happening here. Family can’t stay apart forever after all. At least, not the parts I like, even if they’ve forgotten what it means to appreciate me.
I see Apollo -Steve, now, remember that- up at the bar with Kane. Few remember that the lyre was mine first, that it was my playing that got Apollo worked up in the first place, and I have a certain… appreciation for athletes and musicians. You have no idea how tempted I was to keep the guy for myself. But seeing my brother smile like that? It was well worth all the hard work. It’s not so easy to play around with mortals’ dreams uninvited anymore, after all, and nudging him in the right direction was difficult to say the least. Kane is nothing if not stubborn.
So of course I took matters into my own hands. What? You didn’t think the scent of hyacinths can come at you from over the ocean out of nowhere did you? I’m glad the subtlety worked. Playing messenger to the gods isn’t half so successful as playing messenger for the gods. These days Steve is just as likely to punch me as he is to give me a chance to start talking.
Which makes tonight’s timing awkward. He still doesn’t know I had any involvement with his happy reunion with his lost love, and if I don’t play my cards right, he could get the wrong impression. Sometimes I wish I’d never taken on the role of psychopomp.
I step up to the bar, nodding to Ægir, who nods back and slides me an Ambrosia. Kane doesn’t react to me, as expected despite the fact that I’m right next to him, but I’m barely there for three breaths before Steve realizes I’m me. He pins me with a glare that absolutely reminds me of the time I stole his cattle.
“What are you doing here?”
Yeah, remember what I said about the wrong impression? I’m coming up on that pretty quick. Kane looks between the two of us and blinks a little when he gets a look at my eyes. He might be from Oklahoma but he’s no dumb hick; he knows we’re related.
“Nothing you have to worry about,” I say, and give him my most winning smile. “Promise.” But Steve just narrows his eyes at me. I guess he always did see through that smile, didn’t he? Which means I need to play this strictly on the level, and hope he doesn’t ask too many questions. “Look, I’m not here for you, ok? I just need to pass on a message.”
“A message,” Steve says, his voice flat. Clearly he doesn’t believe any of us are passing messages anymore. Not the way we used to, anyway, clearly he’s been on his own for too long. We haven’t all faded away, not yet. “From who?”
“None of your business. Besides, if everything works out the way it’s meant to, you’ll find out in good time.”
He doesn’t look like he buys it, not completely, but the one I’ve been waiting for comes through the door looking like hell warmed over. (No pun intended, of course.) This guy’s taller than I expected, but then, I haven’t seen him in person before, and he’s so much smaller in his dreams. Seeing him like this almost makes me feel guilty for teasing out memories of a life long dormant; he’s been missing part of himself and he knows it now, if only inwardly, and it’s tormenting him.
“Hey, Jensen, you ok man?” Kane greets him, making space for him at the bar. I make a note of the new name - something tells me he wouldn’t be amenable to the last one.
Jensen just shrugs a little, oblivious to my presence as he mutters something about not sleeping well and orders a shot of whiskey. I lean a little, not touching and all too aware that Steve is just as protective of his friends as he is his lovers. I whisper to him, already tapping into my power. He’s the only one this message is meant for, and he’ll be the only one to hear it. Whether or not he understands… well. I can only do so much, right?
He’s looking for you.
Jensen jerks, looking up. He knows my voice, even if he doesn’t remember why. We spent too much time together back in the good old days for him not to. But by the time he’s turned toward where I was, I’ve already stepped sideways, already sped away. Apollo would be revelation enough, but what’s coming at him now? Well. He can wait a little longer to meet Hermes again…
Author: Havenward
Fandom: RPS (Apollo AU)
Pairings: Kane/Carlson, Ackles/TBR
Rating: PG13
Words: 834
Note: I blame this entirely on raggedy_edge. I was not going to expand the presence of the gods in this universe. However, I've enabled her into playing in my sandbox, so I won't feel too bad about it. Keep an eye out for her stuff, yeah? The only thing you need to know is that this is written from Matt Bomer's perspective.
Summary: It really isn't my fault no one listens for the gods anymore, so try to pay attention...
It’s a quiet night, all told, but then, Portland is on the quiet end, so far as cities go. It’s a gorgeous place, really, and if I’m honest, I’m kind of pleased that everything’s happening here. Family can’t stay apart forever after all. At least, not the parts I like, even if they’ve forgotten what it means to appreciate me.
I see Apollo -Steve, now, remember that- up at the bar with Kane. Few remember that the lyre was mine first, that it was my playing that got Apollo worked up in the first place, and I have a certain… appreciation for athletes and musicians. You have no idea how tempted I was to keep the guy for myself. But seeing my brother smile like that? It was well worth all the hard work. It’s not so easy to play around with mortals’ dreams uninvited anymore, after all, and nudging him in the right direction was difficult to say the least. Kane is nothing if not stubborn.
So of course I took matters into my own hands. What? You didn’t think the scent of hyacinths can come at you from over the ocean out of nowhere did you? I’m glad the subtlety worked. Playing messenger to the gods isn’t half so successful as playing messenger for the gods. These days Steve is just as likely to punch me as he is to give me a chance to start talking.
Which makes tonight’s timing awkward. He still doesn’t know I had any involvement with his happy reunion with his lost love, and if I don’t play my cards right, he could get the wrong impression. Sometimes I wish I’d never taken on the role of psychopomp.
I step up to the bar, nodding to Ægir, who nods back and slides me an Ambrosia. Kane doesn’t react to me, as expected despite the fact that I’m right next to him, but I’m barely there for three breaths before Steve realizes I’m me. He pins me with a glare that absolutely reminds me of the time I stole his cattle.
“What are you doing here?”
Yeah, remember what I said about the wrong impression? I’m coming up on that pretty quick. Kane looks between the two of us and blinks a little when he gets a look at my eyes. He might be from Oklahoma but he’s no dumb hick; he knows we’re related.
“Nothing you have to worry about,” I say, and give him my most winning smile. “Promise.” But Steve just narrows his eyes at me. I guess he always did see through that smile, didn’t he? Which means I need to play this strictly on the level, and hope he doesn’t ask too many questions. “Look, I’m not here for you, ok? I just need to pass on a message.”
“A message,” Steve says, his voice flat. Clearly he doesn’t believe any of us are passing messages anymore. Not the way we used to, anyway, clearly he’s been on his own for too long. We haven’t all faded away, not yet. “From who?”
“None of your business. Besides, if everything works out the way it’s meant to, you’ll find out in good time.”
He doesn’t look like he buys it, not completely, but the one I’ve been waiting for comes through the door looking like hell warmed over. (No pun intended, of course.) This guy’s taller than I expected, but then, I haven’t seen him in person before, and he’s so much smaller in his dreams. Seeing him like this almost makes me feel guilty for teasing out memories of a life long dormant; he’s been missing part of himself and he knows it now, if only inwardly, and it’s tormenting him.
“Hey, Jensen, you ok man?” Kane greets him, making space for him at the bar. I make a note of the new name - something tells me he wouldn’t be amenable to the last one.
Jensen just shrugs a little, oblivious to my presence as he mutters something about not sleeping well and orders a shot of whiskey. I lean a little, not touching and all too aware that Steve is just as protective of his friends as he is his lovers. I whisper to him, already tapping into my power. He’s the only one this message is meant for, and he’ll be the only one to hear it. Whether or not he understands… well. I can only do so much, right?
He’s looking for you.
Jensen jerks, looking up. He knows my voice, even if he doesn’t remember why. We spent too much time together back in the good old days for him not to. But by the time he’s turned toward where I was, I’ve already stepped sideways, already sped away. Apollo would be revelation enough, but what’s coming at him now? Well. He can wait a little longer to meet Hermes again…