the brains and the brawn; a hedone/hercules, lito fic.
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is another in my series of "mythfics", to borrow the term from my darling etzyofi. In order to fully appreciate these, be sure to look at my Greek Gods in Modern Times casting picspams ( Part One, Part Two, and Part Three). I'm also including a "cast list" at the beginning of the fic just as a refresher as to who's playing who.)
FEATURING:
the brains and the brawn hedone/hercules, pg-13
(Hedone is hesitant to open up to anyone, and is far too independent for a boyfriend. Legendary strength aside, does Hercules stand a chance of getting close to her? Dedicated to professor_spork for her inspired suggestion of casting Karen Gillan as Pandora.)
Hedone spared a moment for a glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, there was a tall, dark young man standing awkwardly next to the presidential bust, looking down at a book he’d just pulled off the shelf. The way he positively glared down at the page, utterly focused and unmoving, Hedone was sure he had no idea what he was looking at. He sure as hell wasn’t reading the thing, considering it was-according to the bright yellow title across the dark spine-a book of HTML codes. (8,029 words)
“I think that guy’s staring at you.”
Hedone looked up from her book, an irritated grimace on her face. “Pandora, I’ve read this page five times. Why did you come to the library if you weren’t going to study? Go back to the apartment.”
“No, I’m serious,” the girl insisted, brushing her ginger hair over her shoulders. “Just behind the bust of George Washington. He’s awfully cute.”
Hedone spared a moment for a glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, there was a tall, dark young man standing awkwardly next to the presidential bust, looking down at a book he’d just pulled off the shelf. The way he positively glared down at the page, utterly focused and unmoving, Hedone was sure he had no idea what he was looking at. He sure as hell wasn’t reading the thing, considering it was-according to the bright yellow title across the dark spine-a book of HTML codes.
“He was probably staring at you,” Hedone said in a disinterested way, turning back to her book. Men were always staring at Pandora; this didn’t bother Hedone in the least, and she could understand the appeal. Her friend was cheerful and bright and enjoyed laughing. She wore the latest, trendiest fashions and her hair was an incredibly vivid shade of red-Pandora stuck out of any crowd, no matter how large.
“I don’t think so,” Pandora replied, a smug grin creeping across her face. “I know when a guy’s staring at me. And his eyes were all over you.”
“Ugh, thanks,” Hedone said sourly. “Now he sounds like a pervert.”
“Nothing perverted about it. He’s pretty hot, and you’re both of age. Why can’t a good-looking guy look at a good-looking girl?”
“Pandora, remind me to buy you a thesaurus for Christmas. Your vocabulary makes me weep for the future.”
“When’s the last time you even went on a date?”
“Don’t do this to me,” she groaned, slumping forward until her forehead bumped against the table. “Seriously, not now. I just want to sit here, in peace and quiet, and finish reading Dr. Brull’s assignment for tomorrow. Is that so much to ask?”
“Hedone, this is serious.”
“No, it’s a waste of time! I’m here to learn and pass my classes and get a degree! And I won’t be able to do any of that if you start pushing me into speed dating and online dating and blind dating again.”
“Again? Hedone, I set you up with one guy from my bio-chem class.”
“And?”
“…And took you to one speed dating event. And, okay, so I made you an eHarmony account, so what? It’s not like you gave any of it a chance.”
“Because I’ve actually got my priorities in order,” Hedone said with a degree of smug satisfaction. “Now begone, ruinous distraction, before I unleash the hounds upon you.”
Pandora sighed and grabbed her messenger bag. “You are allowed to have fun, on occasion,” she said pointedly, gathering up her books. “Even you can’t spend every waking moment with your nose to the grind.”
“Goodbye,” Hedone said pointedly.
Pandora stuck her tongue out and left with a flounce.
The library regained its usual composure. The copy machine whirred quietly in the far corner. The page’s cart squeaked as she pushed it down the rows, pausing every few feet to slide a returned book onto its rightful shelf. Hedone moved her attention back to her textbook with a contented sigh.
Nearly fifteen minutes of studious, silent reading passed before Hedone looked up, a movement to her right intruding on her focus. It was the young man, awkwardly pulling out a chair at the far end of the long table, a stack of books held to his chest with one arm.
It was clear that he felt out of place and uncomfortable. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, and he kept glancing around as if afraid someone would jump out at him and order him out of the building. A typical jock, with messy black hair and impressively large arms.
Hedone returned to her book, but soon found that her attention was wandering down the table. Pandora was right: he was awfully attractive. And Hedone could appreciate that just as much as anyone. Add the fact that he seemed nearly terrified to be sitting in a library, and her curiosity was piqued.
It was something she’d inherited from her mother, she was sure of it-Hedone couldn’t help but analyze strangers. She often found herself observing people silently at restaurants, in shops, during classes, taking in all of the clues and details before writing their “story” in her head. A young woman with disheveled hair and a small stain on her shirt was a new mother who had just handed the baby over to her husband before gratefully escaping to the park for a few minutes of quiet solitude. The man who laughed loudest at his friend’s homophobic joke did so to deflect any of the group’s questions or suspicions: the sweat trickling down his neck was proof enough that he was still in the closet and terrified of being outed. The elderly woman who shouted at passing children to stop running and watch their language was hiding her loneliness and bitterness beneath a façade of harsh self-reliance.
She did this constantly, almost unconsciously, and it sometimes proved a diverting form of entertainment. It didn’t matter if she was correct on her hypotheses-it wasn’t as if she was about to walk up to anyone and demand to know their life story just to prove to herself that she was good-but she had enough confidence to think she usually wasn’t that far from the mark.
Looking down at her book in between sneaky glances at the man, Hedone began to compose his story.
He was in his late twenties-thirty at the latest. Well built and toned, he enjoyed sports and had to work out almost every day. Probably played football or rugby, judging by his build and arms. His brow furrowed and his mouth moved noticeably as he read, so he wasn’t much for books; he could have dyslexia, or perhaps he just wasn’t very bright. Probably graduated from high school thanks to a coach’s support, but it was doubtful that he pursued any higher education. Judging by the soft squeak of his shoe, he was bouncing one leg beneath the table. A man with plenty of energy and a desire for action, then. Sitting still for so long made him fidget and nervous.
She feigned a stretch and managed to get a glimpse at the titles he had gathered. Ancient Philosophy: Selected Works by Aristotle, Socrates, and Plato. Basic Chemistry. The American Story: From the Revolution to the Cold War. Standard textbooks for a freshman with an undecided major and basic requirements to fulfill. The only question was if he was taking classes at Stanford or at the local community college-she suspected the latter. Given his simple, cheap attire (a black tee-shirt, dark jeans, and sneakers), it was probably safe to say he didn’t have an office job and made do with a modest income.
All of this had taken her less than three minutes. Now having satisfied her curiosity, she returned to her book with a small, private smile.
“Excuse me?”
Hedone looked up again. There was a lined notebook in front of him, a pencil drooping listlessly in one hand. “Yes?”
“Do you have an eraser I could borrow? I’m always forgetting things.” He was incredibly earnest; something about his expression struck her. It was rather boyish, with an element of naiveté and good-naturedness.
“Uh, I think so.” She pulled out her pencil bag and fished around for a moment. “Here ya go.”
“Thanks a lot. What’s your name?”
“Hedone,” she said after the slightest of pauses.
“That’s an interesting name. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a Hedone before.”
“Yeah, it’s old-fashioned,” she said dismissively. “My parents are sort of… classical in their tastes.”
“My mum was, too,” he said with a wide grin. “My name’s Hercules.”
“Nice.”
“Thanks. …So are you a student?”
“Yep.”
“…At Stanford?”
“Yep.”
“…You’re not much of a talker, are you?”
“Well, I don’t want to be rude,” Hedone said matter-of-factly. “But I’m sort of trying to study for a test I’ve got tomorrow. And-don’t take this the wrong way-but I’m not real big on chatting up strangers, either. A girl has to be careful in this day and age.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he mumbled awkwardly, flushing with embarrassment. It was incredibly endearing; like seeing a bull made dopey by tranquilizers. “Sorry. I’ll stop bothering you.”
He looked back down at his notebook, face red and jaw visibly tightened. Hedone hesitated, thought of saying something, and then decided against it.
She went back to her book.
---
It was raining and the fog was like a creeping creature, slipping across the city and stalking the streets. Hedone shivered as a wisp of cold air whistled through the meager bus shelter and rushed down her coat’s collar.
“Don’t you hate how movies always make California seem like a year-round tropical paradise?” she complained to Pandora. “I swear, fall in California is disgusting. All this fog and drizzle and wind. Ugh.”
“Oh, cheer up!” Pandora urged, elbowing her fondly. “You should be happy we don’t have to deal with twenty-foot snow drifts and below zero temps.”
“Of course you don’t mind it. Scotland’s nothing but barren highlands and ice-cold wind, right?”
Pandora laughed. “You can be such a grumpy face in the morning, it’s ridiculous.”
The bus finally pulled up with a shrill shriek of brakes, and the two hurried aboard and to their usual seat in the back. Three stops later, he got on.
“I’m sorry, does this bus stop at the corner of Haven and Purdue?” he asked the driver. Hedone found herself wondering if he ever sounded cavalier or insincere.
“Nope, sorry,” the driver replied. “You missed that bus by at least a half hour.”
“Damn. Is there another bus stopping there any time soon?”
“Next one’s at four, I think. I can get you to Madison, though-that’s only a couple blocks off, if you don’t mind a bit of a walk.”
“That’s fine, thank you.” He fed his money into the machine and made his way to the nearest open seat: right next to Hedone and Pandora.
“Oh, hello, again,” he said with a smile. “Having a good day?”
“Oh yes, it’s so beautiful out,” Hedone said grumpily, huddled with her arms across her chest.
“Don’t pay any attention to her,” Pandora said with a smile, leaning over her friend to shake his hand. “I saw you at the library the other day, didn’t I? I’m Pandora.”
“Hercules, pleased to meet you.” He shook her hand gently and a bit clumsily, as if he didn’t know what he was doing. “Do you go to Stanford, too?”
“Yeah, I do. I’m studying art. And you?”
“Uh, sort of undecided right now. I haven’t been in school for a while, so I’m just trying to get my feet under me again. I’m just doing some basic courses right now.”
“That’s a good idea, if you don’t know exactly what you want to do. Oh, this is Hedone,” Pandora said brightly.
“Yeah, I know,” he said with a hesitant smile. “We sort of met at the library.”
“Oh?” Pandora poked her sharply in the side. “Funny, she never mentioned it.”
“It wasn’t anything important,” he said. “I just asked her for an eraser.”
“And lemme guess-she was all taciturn and standoffish with you, wasn’t she?”
“Taciturn? Standoffish?” Hedone spluttered.
“Well, you are sometimes!”
“No, not that-where in the world did you ever pick those words up?”
“Ha ha, Hedone. I read books, too. So, Hercules, what’s your story? Where’re ya from, all that jazz?”
“Uh, well, there’s not a whole lot to tell,” he said modestly. “I’m from England-but I guess you probably already figured that out. My mum and I moved to the States when I was about ten. Lived in Montana for a while. After high school I joined the Army. Finished my tour of duty about a year ago and decided I should probably go back to school and get a degree.”
“You’re a military man, huh? Still have the uniform?” Pandora asked with a wink.
“Pandora, don’t.”
“What, I’m being friendly.”
“Your friendly does not equal most people’s concept of friendly.”
“Stop being such a killjoy, Hedone! Just because the weather’s so grody.”
“I hate this sort of weather,” Hercules spoke up. “It’s not even proper rain. It’s like it can’t decide what it wants to be.”
“I agree,” Hedone said firmly.
“Where are you off to today?” Pandora asked, steering the conversation.
“Just running some errands,” he replied. “I’m pretty forgetful, and now I’m all out of light bulbs and toilet paper and bread.”
“That’s terrible-going without the holy trinity of college life,” Hedone said with a snicker.
“Yeah, I’m useless at taking care of myself when it comes to domestic things,” Hercules said unabashedly. “I’m not used to remembering stuff like groceries and bills.”
“You probably had more important things to worry about,” Hedone said. “When you were in the military.”
“Hedone knows all about that,” Pandora said. “She’s had a lot of family involved in the military-I mean, her grandfather-”
“No need to go into that,” Hedone interjected firmly.
“And where are you two off to?”
“A friend of mine is having his collection shown at a gallery downtown. We promised to come for support. It’s very avant garde stuff,” Pandora confided. “Shocking and just this side of vulgar. It’s sure to be an interesting show.”
“Madison!” the driver called suddenly.
“I guess this is me,” Hercules said. “It was nice talking to you. Have fun at your show.”
“See you around!” Pandora said with a wave.
“Bye,” was all Hedone managed, too busy re-wrapping her scarf to watch him leave.
---
“Hercules seems really nice.”
“Yep.”
“Sort of innocent, too. I can hardly believe he was in the military-he’s got the bod for it, but I sort of expect all soldiers to be super hard and gruff.”
“Yep.”
“Hedone, are you even listening to me?”
“Yep.”
Pandora groaned and tossed her coat over the closest chair. “I’ll make some tea.”
“Sounds good.” She picked up her binder of notes and curled up on the second-hand couch. For several minutes the only sound was the running of water and rattling of the dishes as Pandora gathered the necessary tea things-Hedone had covered three pages before there was a defiant, loud clatter of the metal teapot being slammed onto the stovetop.
“Why won’t you give the guy a chance?” Pandora demanded, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
Hedone looked up at her with a perfectly practiced look of innocence. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, Hedone-the way he looked at you, those smiles he kept giving you, his whole body language screamed that he was interested in you.”
“He never even asked me for my number, Pandora,” Hedone said pointedly.
“Obviously because he was nervous and shy and you weren’t doing a single thing to encourage him!”
“Why are you so wound up about this?” she demanded impatiently, setting aside her notebook. “If you need a hobby, I’ve got several recommendations. Knitting, for instance. Knitting is a productive way to spend your time.”
“Hedone! We’ve been friends for years. We’ve lived together for two. And you’ve never, not even once, brought a man over or mentioned one to me that wasn’t directly related to you!”
“I like being single,” Hedone said defensively. “I’m an independent, intelligent, and perfectly capable woman who doesn’t need to define herself with her romantic attachments. And I like having my alone time.”
“I’m not suggesting you turn into a Bella Swan and start obsessing over this bloke,” Pandora said quickly. “But it’s not going to kill you to try dating someone, just once. If you do it right, it could be a lot of fun. Entertaining, stimulating, a distraction when the stress of classes starts building. And it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to have someone else you could open up to. You know: share things, ask for advice, confide your problems with.”
Hedone snorted. “You should know me well enough by now to know that’s a ridiculous suggestion. I don’t do the whole touchy-feely, bleeding heart, sharing feelings thing.”
“I want to know how you developed this complex,” Pandora said with a frown. “Your mum and dad have been happy together for forever and a day. Did you just have a really awful first boyfriend who fucked you up for every guy since?”
The teapot began whistling shrilly, preventing Hedone from snapping something sharp and uncharitable and distracting Pandora long enough to let her beat an escape to her room.
“Leave my tea by the door,” she shouted as she slammed it.
---
Fall was quickly fading into winter. Hedone had taken to wearing three layers under her jackets and never left the apartment without gloves and a scarf. The best thing to be said for the chillier weather was that she was getting better tips at work-people showed their appreciation for properly prepared lattes and espressos when their fingers were numb and their faces tingled from the wind.
The café was beginning to empty for the night. A couple of the regulars lingered over their last cups. A teenaged boy was surfing Facebook on the public computer in the corner. Less than a half hour to go before she could kick everyone out, wrap up the last of the scones and bagels, wipe down the machines, and go home.
The sleigh bells on the door jangled loudly. She tightened the canister of coffee beans she’d been refilling and turned to address the newcomer with her Friendly Barista Smile™.
“Oh, hello!” Hercules’ thousand-watt smile glowed in the dim lighting of the café. His dark hair was tousled from the wind, his checks rosy and absurdly boyish.
“Hi,” she replied, the Smile™ fading. He was wearing a heavy green canvas jacket tonight, MAXIMA, H stamped above the chest pocket. “What can I make for you?”
“Plain, black cup of coffee, please.”
“No sugar or cream?”
“Nope. Have you worked here long?”
“Since I started taking classes here.” She handed him his cup. “That’ll be $4.50.”
He handed over a balled-up ten. “I heard someone talking about you in one of my classes the other day.”
“Oh?” The register dinged loudly as she counted out his change.
“Is it true that you’re related to Aphrodite Venus? And Zeus Olympian?”
“Yep,” she said noncommittally.
“Wow. That’s intimidating.”
She met his eyes for a brief moment. “Yeah, it can be.”
“Then… If you don’t mind me asking… Why do you work at a coffee shop? I mean, your whole family must have money.”
“I like being self-sufficient,” Hedone said. “My parents get that about me, so they let me fend for myself. They know that if I ever needed anything, I’d ask them.”
“That’s awesome,” he said with an audible touch of admiration. He looked down at his sneakers for a moment. “It’s funny, isn’t it, how we keep running into each other?”
“I’d accuse you of stalking me, if I didn’t know that was absurd,” Hedone said. “I doubt you could be stealthy and subtle if you tried. You must have been the bane of your squad.”
“Yeah,” he said, flushing with embarrassment. “The bull in the china shop, that’s me.”
Hedone had the urge to say something biting and clever. She usually had that urge. But she stopped herself this time, swallowing the words before they could escape. Somehow, the fun had gone out of it-mocking Hercules was like tricking an eager puppy. He was too well-meaning and polite to tease in earnest.
And as he fidgeted before her, looking down at his feet or up at the chalkboard menu so as not to meet her eyes, Hedone felt a pang of guilt. Pandora had been right: she had been rude and short with him. He had never deserved such curt behavior, and had been nothing but friendly with her.
“Hercules, I apologize,” she heard herself saying.
He met her eyes with an almost comical expression of surprise. “For what?”
“For being so taciturn and standoffish,” she said. “In short, for being a bitch.”
He grinned. “No need to apologize-I never thought you were a bitch.”
She smiled in return. It was a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. His grin widened in response.
“So, would now be a good time to ask if you’d ever want to go out?” he asked in a rush, as if afraid of losing steam in mid-sentence. “I, I mean, nothing fancy or anything. Just… out. To a movie, or for some coffee-well, maybe not coffee. Something like… that.” He trailed off uncertainly.
“Well…”
The sleigh bells jangled loudly. Hedone glanced to the door, realizing as she did that everyone else had left. The café was empty save for herself, Hercules, and this newcomer in a dark hoodie. It was also almost ten minutes past closing, and she hadn’t even begun to clean up.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she called to the late arrival. “We’re actually closed for the night. I forgot to turn off the sign. We’ll be open tomorrow at 6, though.”
The stranger didn’t move. His hood was raised, his face completely in shadow. Tiny warning bells were dinging in the back of her mind.
“I’m serious,” Hedone said with an edge of annoyance. “You’re going to have to leave. Look, I’ve already turned off the machines.” She flicked off the switches in a pointed way.
“I want what’s in the till,” he said firmly, hands still in the pockets of his hoodie.
Her jaw tightened in anger. And, as usually happened when she was angry, she said the first thing that came to mind without the slightest hesitation. “You can want it until you’re blue in the face, but you’re not getting anything.”
“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.” His right hand slid from the pocket, a gun clenched tightly in it. It was a small, black, somewhat nondescript gun. Nothing flashy or ostentatious. But it was still plenty menacing, and Hedone felt a little shiver of fear.
Logic said that the gun wasn’t the slightest threat to her, that she could take a bullet without the smallest wound or negative reaction. She was immortal, and nothing manmade could harm her. But she had lived among mortals for so long-the whole family had-and the magic of the pact they had all agreed to so many years ago made her feel like a mortal. She knew all of the highs and lows of human emotion now, and fear could burn across her mind like a glowing brand.
“Open the register. Hand over the money. It’s very simple.” The gunman’s voice was harsher now that he’d revealed the gun. There wasn’t nothing shaky or uncertain about it or his stance. It was clear that he’d held a gun before. This wasn’t just a desperate punk kid putting on a brave act.
“I think you should put down the gun.”
Somehow, in the hour-long minute since the man had made his demand, Hedone had forgotten that Hercules was still standing next to the counter. He’d set his cup down, turning to face the gunman. His face was blank and expressionless. The boyish, awkward air had disappeared like a moth in a flame.
“Don’t be a hero,” the gunman warned, raising the gun. “I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”
“Hercules, it’s okay,” Hedone said, hoping her voice didn’t waver too much. “There’s only like fifty dollars in the register. It’s not worth getting shot over.” She stepped back to the till, popping open the drawer with a loud ding. She pulled out the bills as quickly as she could and sidled around the counter, holding out the money as she inched towards the thief.
He snatched the money from her, shoving everything into his pocket. “Nicely done. You’ve got a brain behind that pretty face. That very pretty face.” His hand darted out again, and he’d grabbed her arm before she could recoil. “I think your friend should leave now.”
Hercules moved before Hedone could say anything, before even the gunman could react. One hand closed around the gun, twisting away the arm that held it, as the other fist swung upwards in a vicious uppercut, striking the man’s chin with a sickening crack. The thief collapsed in a limp jumble of limbs, the gun sliding across the polished floor with a loud shhh of metal against stone.
Hedone stood gaping silently for what felt like an eternity. Her eyes moved from the unconscious would-be robber to the gun (it was crushed, the metal crumpled in on itself, how did that happen?) to Hercules, would stood with his hands still tightened into fists, his face taut with anger. It was the first powerful emotion she’d see him show besides embarrassment, and the effect was akin to being doused with a bucket of cold water.
She gasped a quick breath. “Hercules, you’re a fucking idiot.”
He glanced sharply at her, his expression softening, the anger draining away. “Yeah, I can be that at times. But did you really think I was going to let him touch you?”
“Chivalry’s dead, you know,” she said shakily.
“Not for me it isn’t. Are you okay?”
“Me? You’re the one who was almost shot.” She pulled out the closest chair and sat down before her legs gave way. After a moment of fumbling she managed to extricate her mobile phone from the pocket of her apron and punch in 911.
---
An hour and a half later, Hedone found herself sitting at a sticky table in the International House of Pancakes two blocks down from the café. Hercules was staring down at his menu in rapt interest, one hand tapping a steady drumbeat against the laminated wood.
Hedone had never been inside an IHOP before-it wasn’t the sort of place her family frequented. She felt out of her element and a little disgusted; the syrup containers had dripped and were now sitting at the end of the table in congealed blueberry, strawberry, and maple-flavored puddles. An elderly man four tables over was coughing damply like a tuberculosis patient at the final stages. A group of college students, smelling strongly of cigarettes and alcohol, were talking loudly behind them about the impracticality of Communism and the merits of the Socratic Method.
“The question is, do I want pancakes or waffles?” Hercules murmured to himself.
Hedone picked up her menu hesitantly, trying to hold the edges as gingerly as possible. Who knew how many greasy fingers had touched the thing before?
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” she said coolly. The strawberry crepes didn’t look too bad.
“I don’t think the police knew what hit them,” he chuckled.
“What do you mean by that?”
“It was obvious they expected you to be hysterical and emotional-that one sergeant’s mouth dropped open when you explained what happened so matter-of-factly and asked them to drag the bloke out so you could finish closing the shop.”
“I don’t get paid for overtime,” she said blithely.
“You’re the most interesting girl I’ve ever met,” he said with a smile.
“You don’t get out a lot, do you?”
“No, I’m serious. You’re like… A force of nature or something.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“No, I mean… You don’t let anything phase you. You do and say whatever you want-you’re so confident and sure of everything.”
“You ready to order?” the waitress interrupted. She was MARLA, according to her nametag. She was also chewing a piece of gum loudly.
“Two stacks of your buttermilk pancakes and two sides of your sausage links,” Hercules said promptly, handing over his menu. “And coffee. Black, decaf.”
“Uh huh,” she said listlessly, jotting it all down on her notepad. “And you?”
“Strawberry crepes and a glass of milk. Thanks.”
“Be out in a few minutes. Shout if you need anything.” She shambled away, pausing to tell off the boozy group behind them to stop screaming or else she’d kick them out, that was their second warning and there wouldn’t be a third.
“Hercules,” Hedone said, examining the water spots on her silverware. “How did you do that to the gun?”
He fidgeted slightly. “Do what?”
“You know very well what. How did you crush that gun?”
“I… I just did.”
“You just did?”
“You’re going to think I’m a freak,” he said quietly, staring down at the table. “Most people do.”
Hedone felt the strangest pressure in her chest. Pity, empathy, something else? “Hercules, I won’t think you’re a freak.”
It was the softest he’d ever heard her voice, and he looked up hopefully. “…I’m really strong. Not just strong-I’m not saying that to brag or anything, and it’s not just that I’m strong. It’s like… If I’m not careful, if I don’t think about it constantly, I could hurt people. I’ve broken doors before because I forgot to turn the handle all the way before I pulled. When I was in high school, on the football team, I threw the ball so hard I broke a couple of the receiver’s ribs. And a couple years ago, when I was in Iraq, there was a bomb that went off in the middle of my convoy. A couple of my buddies fell, and the jeep behind us flipped towards us-it was going to crush us, and I just… Caught it. I caught this huge jeep and set it back down.”
So that explained why he was always so awkward and clumsy; he was terrified of breaking everything around him, so he moved gingerly. That was why he reminded her of a puppet whose strings were being snipped, all ungainly limbs and fumbling hands.
“I’m like a mutant or something,” Hercules said. “But I don’t even have a cool origin story like Spider-man or Wolverine. It’s not like I was hit by gamma radiation or anything.”
The waitress returned with their plates, and for several minutes there was silence between them as they ate.
“Thank you, by the way,” Hedone said, setting her glass down.
“Hmm?” he ‘said’, mouth full of pancakes.
“With the robber. I don’t think I actually said thank you yet, and I did appreciate it. As absolutely, utterly, bloody stupid as it was, it was also very brave.”
“You’re welcomed,” he blushed.
“But next time you take me out, I think you should pick a place where our elbows don’t stick to the table,” Hedone said, making a face.
“Next time?” he echoed, unable to hide his pleased excitement.
“Well, I guess I owe you a couple of dates,” Hedone said casually, spearing the last strawberry with her fork.
---
For the second date, he took her to a poetry reading at a small bookshop. There were maybe ten other people in the audience, all of them hipsters in messy scarves and berets. He sat very quietly, attention politely focused on the poet (who wasn’t half-bad, actually), but she had a suspicion that he didn’t ‘get’ many of the messages behind the convoluted prose.
“Did you like it?” he asked her when they were leaving, making their way back to the bus stop.
“It wasn’t bad,” she admitted. “A couple of his poems were quite interesting. Did you like it?”
“Poetry’s one of those things I wish I understood but don’t really,” he confessed.
“Then why did you suggest a poetry reading?”
“I thought it was the sort of thing you’d like.”
And that was Hercules all over, wasn’t it? So well-meaning, always ready to please someone else, incredibly thoughtful and considerate about other’s wants or needs. It was a skill she’d never mastered-thinking of others before herself. And it wasn’t her parents’ fault, either. They’d raised her well, and with love. It was at the genetic level, a dominant trait that ran through her entire family and had somehow managed to skip the occasional fortunate, like her father or Hestia or Hephaestus. She was an immortal Olympian, and as such she was autonomous, confident, and just a tad bit selfish.
“It was nice,” she assured him as they got onto the bus. “I really enjoyed myself. But how about I choose where we go next?”
---
On the third date they went to Aladdin’s Cave, the biggest arcade in town. There was skee ball and virtual racing games, Dance Dance Revolution and a huge dart board that covered most of a wall. His eyes lit up as soon as he saw the sign, and she felt a rush of pleasure as he hurried over to the counter to pay for their tokens.
“I haven’t been to an arcade in years!” he said over the clamor of bells and sirens and sound effects. “Whac-a-mole! That was my favorite when I was a kid!”
She laughed as he attacked the animatronic rodents with a club that looked ridiculously small in his large hand. It was a full-bodied laugh that made her cheeks flush, and when she caught her breath she realized she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so hard.
“Twenty tickets! Heck yes!” he said in triumph, snatching up the stream of yellow paper in one hand and grabbing one of hers with the other, rushing over to the Duck Hunt shooting range. “I bet you a hundred tickets that I’ll get at least ten ducks more than you!”
---
On the fourth date, he took her to a classy seafood restaurant on the Bay. It had been a good half hour bus ride, and it was far too chilly for the little black dress and heels she was wearing. But if he looked good in tee-shirts and jeans, he looked almost divine in a suit, his shoes freshly polished and red tie tightly cinched. He’d even combed his hair back for the occasion.
As they walked down the pier to the restaurant, she slipped her arm through his, smiling at the pleased expression that seized him. He’d make the absolute worst liar, the way he wore his every emotion plainly for the world to see.
The restaurant was quiet and private-they had an entire corner to themselves. The music was subdued and jazzy, the lighting low and intimate. He fumbled slightly with the different silverware, and she was quick to move the candle to her side of the table as soon as they sat down.
“Does your mum still live in Montana?” she asked after the waiter had taken their order.
“She died a couple years ago. While I was in Iraq.”
“I’m sorry.” She had the urge to reach across the table and lay her hand over his. For a second she hesitated. But when she saw the light that flickered in his eyes at her touch, she was glad she’d given in to the impulse. “What about your father?”
“I never knew him,” he said with a wry, sideways quirk of his lips. “Mum never talked much about him. I don’t think they spent much time together. He left before I was born. I don’t know if he even knew I existed.”
“I’m sure it’s hard, not having much family. But sometimes it’s just as difficult with a big one.”
“Speaking from experience? You’ve never said much-what’s your family like?”
“Well,” she said hesitantly. “My mum and dad are great. Mum’s an author; she writes those ridiculous romances you see in supermarkets. And dad’s sort of… In the match-making business.”
“Like those online dating sites? eHarmony and Match.com, that sort of thing?”
“…Sort of. And I’ve got about two dozen aunts and uncles and cousins. And some of them are pretty rich and famous,” she said apologetically. “Like my Uncle Zeus-he owns Olympus Air. Another uncle runs Underworld Records. And my grandmother’s Aphrodite Venus.”
“Wow. That’s intimidating, having relatives like that.”
“Yeah, it can be at times. But it helps that they’re all really petty and about as mature as a bunch of third-graders,” Hedone said cynically. “It’s hard to be intimidated by people who hold grudges for decades over things like stealing a fancy harp or giving fi-things away.”
They talked about their classes and the upcoming midterms. She agreed to help him study that weekend for his American History final. He asked her if she had any plans for the Christmas holidays. The food came and they spent several minutes cutting their steaks and cracking their lobster shells.
“So… I have something of a confession,” he said finally.
“Oh? Is it a juicy one?” She sipped nonchalantly at her wine.
“You’re sort of… The first girlfriend I’ve ever had.”
She stared at him for a moment, fork halfway to her mouth. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to her until just then that yes, she was in fact in a relationship. Hercules was her boyfriend. When did that happen?
“Really?”
“Yep. Am I doing a good job?”
“…At being a boyfriend?”
“Uh-huh?”
“You’re doing fine,” she said after a moment’s reflection. “To be equally honest, it’s not as if I’ve had much practice at being a girlfriend, either.” There had been a few men, before and after leaving Olympus, and she wasn’t exactly ignorant on certain intimate matters. But it had been decades since her last actual relationship, and the courting customs had changed vastly since the Second World War.
“Oh, I thought you would have had loads of boyfriends,” he said candidly. “I mean, you’re just so… Nice.”
“Nice? Me?” Hedone gaped at him for a moment. No, that wasn’t a word she would have used to describe herself. She could be polite and considerate at times, sure, but she wasn’t soft or sweet enough to be ‘nice’.
“Of course you are,” he said, surprised by her reaction.
“Oh. Well, thank you,” she managed to say, feeling her cheeks burning. “I find it hard to believe that you’ve never had a girlfriend.”
“Why do you say that?” he asked earnestly.
“Uh, well…” She couldn’t very well say, You’ve got a downright incredible body, the sort of face women dream about at certain times of the month, and one of the sweetest dispositions imaginable. Not even Kansas farm boys come as honest and earnest as you. “…You’re very nice, too. All kinds of nice.”
Now it was his turn to blush and fumble with his napkin.
“Haven’t you ever wanted a girlfriend before?” Hedone asked with curiosity.
“Sure I have. It’s just… I’m a bit afraid.”
“Afraid? The only kind of girl who could hurt you would be a heartless bitch,” Hedone said without thinking.
He smiled. “That’s reassuring to hear.”
“Uh, yes, well.”
“No, I’m afraid I’ll hurt someone. The whole He-Man strength,” he said with a frown. “I always have to be so careful. What if I forget myself in the whole… Well, you know, the… heat of the moment.” The last few words came out in a nearly inaudible whisper. He was almost as red as a tomato by now.
Hedone couldn’t help herself: she laughed, and loudly. It was his whole manner, akin to a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar.
“I’m sorry,” she said when she’d regained control of herself. “I know it’s a serious concern, but the way you explained it…”
“Yeah, I’m a bit ridiculous,” he said sheepishly. “I think I’ll always be the backwoods boy.”
“That’s okay,” she said, taking another sip of wine. “Maybe I like that about you. Maybe I’m tired of cosmopolitan people who are always sneaky and subtle.”
---
They took their time in walking back to the bus stop, lingering along the beach despite the chill. It was nice, leaning against him like this, one warm arm around her shoulders as they looked out at the blinking lights of the boats and buoys.
“What if I told you you weren’t the only one who has a hard time fitting in?” Hedone said quietly.
“Do you have a big dark secret, too?” he teased.
“Sort of. You probably won’t believe me, though.”
“Try me. I’ll believe anything you say.”
“That’s dangerous,” she warned. “I could take advantage of that.”
“You could,” he agreed. “But I don’t think you will.”
“…I’m not human.”
“You’re an alien? Neat. What planet are you from?”
“No, I’m not an alien,” she said, poking his side and making him yelp in surprise. “I’m an immortal.”
“Like the Highlander?”
“No,” she said with an exasperated laugh. “I’m… Well, I’m a goddess.”
“I already knew that,” he said with a smile that threatened to turn her legs into jelly.
“I’m serious, Hercules. My mother is Psyche. My father is Eros-you know, the God of Love?”
“…If you’re a goddess, why are you going to school at Stanford?”
“It’s a really long and complicated story. The short version is: because I wanted to. I wanted to get away from the madness that is my family and live on my own for a while. I wanted to be normal. Or, at least as normal as you crazy mortals can get.”
“So you’re immortal. Do you have special powers, too?”
“Not especially,” she said. “I’m a very minor goddess. My one job back at Olympus was to carry the cup of ambrosia, for fuck’s sake.”
“Wow. This is something. I mean, I knew you were special the second I saw you, but I don’t think I could have predicted this.” He scratched his head, ruffling his gelled hair. “So does that mean we can’t be together? Is it forbidden or something?”
“No,” she laughed. “Given my family’s track record, being with mortals is about as far from forbidden as it gets.”
“But… I’m just a man, Hedone.”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” she said slowly. “But you’re something better than that, too, I think.”
And she kissed him right there, on a cold and windy beach strewn with shells and rocks and beer bottle caps. His lips were just as soft and warm and nice as she had expected, and it was even better when he kissed her back, arms sliding around her waist and back, lifting her up off her feet.
---
After the sixth date…
“D’you want to come in?” she found herself asking, poised in the doorway, key still in the lock. “Pandora’s visiting her cousin this weekend.”
“Uh… Okay,” he said nervously, hands shoved in his pockets.
“Want a cup of tea?” She draped her coat and scarf on the back of the couch and hurried into the kitchen, hoping a task would help steady the heart that was suddenly beating erratically in her chest.
“That’d be great, thanks.” He sat gingerly on the edge of the couch and glanced around at the vibrant artwork covering the walls. “This all Pandora’s work?”
“What? Oh, yeah.”
“She’s got a thing for boxes, doesn’t she?” he commented.
“Yeah, she’s very into geometric designs. Is green tea okay?”
“Great.” He took the mug from her and sipped at the scalding brew tentatively. “So break starts on Tuesday.”
“Yep.” She sat beside him and fussed with the coasters on the coffee table.
“Are you going to go visit your family?”
“I might spend a couple days with Mum and Dad-visit a few cousins I like, that sort of thing. But I’ll probably stay here for most of it. Pandora doesn’t have the money to go home, either, so I thought I’d keep her company. What are your plans?”
“Non-existent,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t have any family to visit. I think I’m just going to relax and try to recover from the midterms. I hope I passed everything.”
“I’m sure you did,” she said bracingly. “After all of that studying we did, I’d be absolutely shocked if you didn’t get hundred percents across the board.”
“You’ve got more faith in me than I do,” he chuckled.
“After all of the things you’ve done, you should have more confidence,” she said firmly. “You survived Iraq, and a coffee house robber, and dating me: graduating from Stanford should be cake in comparison.”
“You’re the best girlfriend in the world,” he said devoutly.
She scoffed and said in a teasing way, “I’m the only girlfriend you’ve ever had. You don’t have much of a frame of reference.”
“Even so, I’m pretty sure it was my lucky day when you agreed to a date.”
“Hercules, just shut up and kiss me.”
He did, and didn’t do too bad of a job at it, either. It was impressive how much he’d improved in such a short time, from uncertain fumbling to the kind of kissing that made her brain short circuit in a wave of that feels amazing, just like that. He may not be one for book smarts, but when it came to the practical skills he was a fast learner.
It wasn’t long before they found themselves sliding down against the couch, mugs of quickly cooling tea utterly forgotten on the coffee table. She’d expected this-no, wanted this. Why else would she have invited him inside this late in the evening? And it had been, she admitted to herself, an awfully long time.
Pandora had been right, in that infuriatingly nosy way of hers: sometimes it could be very nice to have a boyfriend, someone to talk to and share things with and have some fun with…
He pulled away just as she started to fumble with his shirt. “Hedone, wait.”
“What? Why?” She was pretty sure her eyes were crossing.
“Are you sure?”
“Hercules, is there any way I could make it more obvious that I’m sure?” She grabbed him and pulled him into another searing kiss. It went on, more or less, for several breathless minutes before he extricated himself again.
“I… I’m worried-”
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Uh, well, yes,” he said breathlessly as she shifted slightly beneath him. “I just don’t want to-”
“You’re not going to hurt me,” she said firmly. “I’m a goddess, remember? Nothing mortal could possibly hurt me.”
“You’re sure?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle with you,” she said with a sly smile, pulling at his shirt. He grinned at that, raising his arms so she could tug the tee over his head.
She had been only half-jesting, fully aware of how serious this was for him. How strange it felt, to be in the position of almost complete control with this great man covered in muscle. To be the one who had to be forceful, who had to coax him, who had to guide-
He was one helluva fast learner, though, she remembered with a loud gasp. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life as stars burst behind her eyelids and his name escaped from her lips in a cry.
There was a sudden, abrupt shudder-and the couch tilted with a loud creak of snapping wood. Her eyes flew open as the box of springs beneath her back slammed against the floor, motes of wood dust floating around them, the mugs of tea knocked from the table and rolling across the floor.
“…Whoops,” he said quietly in the aftermath, looking around and back at her with a sheepish smile.
“Don’t worry about it,” she managed to say when she’d regained her breath. “It was a shite couch anyway. We needed a new one.”
There was a sudden banging on the floor from the apartment below.
“What the hell are you doing up there?” an irritated voice shouted. “You got a sledgehammer up there or something?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Hedone giggled. “Bravo, Hercules. You almost brought the house down.”
FEATURING:
the brains and the brawn hedone/hercules, pg-13
(Hedone is hesitant to open up to anyone, and is far too independent for a boyfriend. Legendary strength aside, does Hercules stand a chance of getting close to her? Dedicated to professor_spork for her inspired suggestion of casting Karen Gillan as Pandora.)
Hedone spared a moment for a glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, there was a tall, dark young man standing awkwardly next to the presidential bust, looking down at a book he’d just pulled off the shelf. The way he positively glared down at the page, utterly focused and unmoving, Hedone was sure he had no idea what he was looking at. He sure as hell wasn’t reading the thing, considering it was-according to the bright yellow title across the dark spine-a book of HTML codes. (8,029 words)
“I think that guy’s staring at you.”
Hedone looked up from her book, an irritated grimace on her face. “Pandora, I’ve read this page five times. Why did you come to the library if you weren’t going to study? Go back to the apartment.”
“No, I’m serious,” the girl insisted, brushing her ginger hair over her shoulders. “Just behind the bust of George Washington. He’s awfully cute.”
Hedone spared a moment for a glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, there was a tall, dark young man standing awkwardly next to the presidential bust, looking down at a book he’d just pulled off the shelf. The way he positively glared down at the page, utterly focused and unmoving, Hedone was sure he had no idea what he was looking at. He sure as hell wasn’t reading the thing, considering it was-according to the bright yellow title across the dark spine-a book of HTML codes.
“He was probably staring at you,” Hedone said in a disinterested way, turning back to her book. Men were always staring at Pandora; this didn’t bother Hedone in the least, and she could understand the appeal. Her friend was cheerful and bright and enjoyed laughing. She wore the latest, trendiest fashions and her hair was an incredibly vivid shade of red-Pandora stuck out of any crowd, no matter how large.
“I don’t think so,” Pandora replied, a smug grin creeping across her face. “I know when a guy’s staring at me. And his eyes were all over you.”
“Ugh, thanks,” Hedone said sourly. “Now he sounds like a pervert.”
“Nothing perverted about it. He’s pretty hot, and you’re both of age. Why can’t a good-looking guy look at a good-looking girl?”
“Pandora, remind me to buy you a thesaurus for Christmas. Your vocabulary makes me weep for the future.”
“When’s the last time you even went on a date?”
“Don’t do this to me,” she groaned, slumping forward until her forehead bumped against the table. “Seriously, not now. I just want to sit here, in peace and quiet, and finish reading Dr. Brull’s assignment for tomorrow. Is that so much to ask?”
“Hedone, this is serious.”
“No, it’s a waste of time! I’m here to learn and pass my classes and get a degree! And I won’t be able to do any of that if you start pushing me into speed dating and online dating and blind dating again.”
“Again? Hedone, I set you up with one guy from my bio-chem class.”
“And?”
“…And took you to one speed dating event. And, okay, so I made you an eHarmony account, so what? It’s not like you gave any of it a chance.”
“Because I’ve actually got my priorities in order,” Hedone said with a degree of smug satisfaction. “Now begone, ruinous distraction, before I unleash the hounds upon you.”
Pandora sighed and grabbed her messenger bag. “You are allowed to have fun, on occasion,” she said pointedly, gathering up her books. “Even you can’t spend every waking moment with your nose to the grind.”
“Goodbye,” Hedone said pointedly.
Pandora stuck her tongue out and left with a flounce.
The library regained its usual composure. The copy machine whirred quietly in the far corner. The page’s cart squeaked as she pushed it down the rows, pausing every few feet to slide a returned book onto its rightful shelf. Hedone moved her attention back to her textbook with a contented sigh.
Nearly fifteen minutes of studious, silent reading passed before Hedone looked up, a movement to her right intruding on her focus. It was the young man, awkwardly pulling out a chair at the far end of the long table, a stack of books held to his chest with one arm.
It was clear that he felt out of place and uncomfortable. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, and he kept glancing around as if afraid someone would jump out at him and order him out of the building. A typical jock, with messy black hair and impressively large arms.
Hedone returned to her book, but soon found that her attention was wandering down the table. Pandora was right: he was awfully attractive. And Hedone could appreciate that just as much as anyone. Add the fact that he seemed nearly terrified to be sitting in a library, and her curiosity was piqued.
It was something she’d inherited from her mother, she was sure of it-Hedone couldn’t help but analyze strangers. She often found herself observing people silently at restaurants, in shops, during classes, taking in all of the clues and details before writing their “story” in her head. A young woman with disheveled hair and a small stain on her shirt was a new mother who had just handed the baby over to her husband before gratefully escaping to the park for a few minutes of quiet solitude. The man who laughed loudest at his friend’s homophobic joke did so to deflect any of the group’s questions or suspicions: the sweat trickling down his neck was proof enough that he was still in the closet and terrified of being outed. The elderly woman who shouted at passing children to stop running and watch their language was hiding her loneliness and bitterness beneath a façade of harsh self-reliance.
She did this constantly, almost unconsciously, and it sometimes proved a diverting form of entertainment. It didn’t matter if she was correct on her hypotheses-it wasn’t as if she was about to walk up to anyone and demand to know their life story just to prove to herself that she was good-but she had enough confidence to think she usually wasn’t that far from the mark.
Looking down at her book in between sneaky glances at the man, Hedone began to compose his story.
He was in his late twenties-thirty at the latest. Well built and toned, he enjoyed sports and had to work out almost every day. Probably played football or rugby, judging by his build and arms. His brow furrowed and his mouth moved noticeably as he read, so he wasn’t much for books; he could have dyslexia, or perhaps he just wasn’t very bright. Probably graduated from high school thanks to a coach’s support, but it was doubtful that he pursued any higher education. Judging by the soft squeak of his shoe, he was bouncing one leg beneath the table. A man with plenty of energy and a desire for action, then. Sitting still for so long made him fidget and nervous.
She feigned a stretch and managed to get a glimpse at the titles he had gathered. Ancient Philosophy: Selected Works by Aristotle, Socrates, and Plato. Basic Chemistry. The American Story: From the Revolution to the Cold War. Standard textbooks for a freshman with an undecided major and basic requirements to fulfill. The only question was if he was taking classes at Stanford or at the local community college-she suspected the latter. Given his simple, cheap attire (a black tee-shirt, dark jeans, and sneakers), it was probably safe to say he didn’t have an office job and made do with a modest income.
All of this had taken her less than three minutes. Now having satisfied her curiosity, she returned to her book with a small, private smile.
“Excuse me?”
Hedone looked up again. There was a lined notebook in front of him, a pencil drooping listlessly in one hand. “Yes?”
“Do you have an eraser I could borrow? I’m always forgetting things.” He was incredibly earnest; something about his expression struck her. It was rather boyish, with an element of naiveté and good-naturedness.
“Uh, I think so.” She pulled out her pencil bag and fished around for a moment. “Here ya go.”
“Thanks a lot. What’s your name?”
“Hedone,” she said after the slightest of pauses.
“That’s an interesting name. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a Hedone before.”
“Yeah, it’s old-fashioned,” she said dismissively. “My parents are sort of… classical in their tastes.”
“My mum was, too,” he said with a wide grin. “My name’s Hercules.”
“Nice.”
“Thanks. …So are you a student?”
“Yep.”
“…At Stanford?”
“Yep.”
“…You’re not much of a talker, are you?”
“Well, I don’t want to be rude,” Hedone said matter-of-factly. “But I’m sort of trying to study for a test I’ve got tomorrow. And-don’t take this the wrong way-but I’m not real big on chatting up strangers, either. A girl has to be careful in this day and age.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he mumbled awkwardly, flushing with embarrassment. It was incredibly endearing; like seeing a bull made dopey by tranquilizers. “Sorry. I’ll stop bothering you.”
He looked back down at his notebook, face red and jaw visibly tightened. Hedone hesitated, thought of saying something, and then decided against it.
She went back to her book.
---
It was raining and the fog was like a creeping creature, slipping across the city and stalking the streets. Hedone shivered as a wisp of cold air whistled through the meager bus shelter and rushed down her coat’s collar.
“Don’t you hate how movies always make California seem like a year-round tropical paradise?” she complained to Pandora. “I swear, fall in California is disgusting. All this fog and drizzle and wind. Ugh.”
“Oh, cheer up!” Pandora urged, elbowing her fondly. “You should be happy we don’t have to deal with twenty-foot snow drifts and below zero temps.”
“Of course you don’t mind it. Scotland’s nothing but barren highlands and ice-cold wind, right?”
Pandora laughed. “You can be such a grumpy face in the morning, it’s ridiculous.”
The bus finally pulled up with a shrill shriek of brakes, and the two hurried aboard and to their usual seat in the back. Three stops later, he got on.
“I’m sorry, does this bus stop at the corner of Haven and Purdue?” he asked the driver. Hedone found herself wondering if he ever sounded cavalier or insincere.
“Nope, sorry,” the driver replied. “You missed that bus by at least a half hour.”
“Damn. Is there another bus stopping there any time soon?”
“Next one’s at four, I think. I can get you to Madison, though-that’s only a couple blocks off, if you don’t mind a bit of a walk.”
“That’s fine, thank you.” He fed his money into the machine and made his way to the nearest open seat: right next to Hedone and Pandora.
“Oh, hello, again,” he said with a smile. “Having a good day?”
“Oh yes, it’s so beautiful out,” Hedone said grumpily, huddled with her arms across her chest.
“Don’t pay any attention to her,” Pandora said with a smile, leaning over her friend to shake his hand. “I saw you at the library the other day, didn’t I? I’m Pandora.”
“Hercules, pleased to meet you.” He shook her hand gently and a bit clumsily, as if he didn’t know what he was doing. “Do you go to Stanford, too?”
“Yeah, I do. I’m studying art. And you?”
“Uh, sort of undecided right now. I haven’t been in school for a while, so I’m just trying to get my feet under me again. I’m just doing some basic courses right now.”
“That’s a good idea, if you don’t know exactly what you want to do. Oh, this is Hedone,” Pandora said brightly.
“Yeah, I know,” he said with a hesitant smile. “We sort of met at the library.”
“Oh?” Pandora poked her sharply in the side. “Funny, she never mentioned it.”
“It wasn’t anything important,” he said. “I just asked her for an eraser.”
“And lemme guess-she was all taciturn and standoffish with you, wasn’t she?”
“Taciturn? Standoffish?” Hedone spluttered.
“Well, you are sometimes!”
“No, not that-where in the world did you ever pick those words up?”
“Ha ha, Hedone. I read books, too. So, Hercules, what’s your story? Where’re ya from, all that jazz?”
“Uh, well, there’s not a whole lot to tell,” he said modestly. “I’m from England-but I guess you probably already figured that out. My mum and I moved to the States when I was about ten. Lived in Montana for a while. After high school I joined the Army. Finished my tour of duty about a year ago and decided I should probably go back to school and get a degree.”
“You’re a military man, huh? Still have the uniform?” Pandora asked with a wink.
“Pandora, don’t.”
“What, I’m being friendly.”
“Your friendly does not equal most people’s concept of friendly.”
“Stop being such a killjoy, Hedone! Just because the weather’s so grody.”
“I hate this sort of weather,” Hercules spoke up. “It’s not even proper rain. It’s like it can’t decide what it wants to be.”
“I agree,” Hedone said firmly.
“Where are you off to today?” Pandora asked, steering the conversation.
“Just running some errands,” he replied. “I’m pretty forgetful, and now I’m all out of light bulbs and toilet paper and bread.”
“That’s terrible-going without the holy trinity of college life,” Hedone said with a snicker.
“Yeah, I’m useless at taking care of myself when it comes to domestic things,” Hercules said unabashedly. “I’m not used to remembering stuff like groceries and bills.”
“You probably had more important things to worry about,” Hedone said. “When you were in the military.”
“Hedone knows all about that,” Pandora said. “She’s had a lot of family involved in the military-I mean, her grandfather-”
“No need to go into that,” Hedone interjected firmly.
“And where are you two off to?”
“A friend of mine is having his collection shown at a gallery downtown. We promised to come for support. It’s very avant garde stuff,” Pandora confided. “Shocking and just this side of vulgar. It’s sure to be an interesting show.”
“Madison!” the driver called suddenly.
“I guess this is me,” Hercules said. “It was nice talking to you. Have fun at your show.”
“See you around!” Pandora said with a wave.
“Bye,” was all Hedone managed, too busy re-wrapping her scarf to watch him leave.
---
“Hercules seems really nice.”
“Yep.”
“Sort of innocent, too. I can hardly believe he was in the military-he’s got the bod for it, but I sort of expect all soldiers to be super hard and gruff.”
“Yep.”
“Hedone, are you even listening to me?”
“Yep.”
Pandora groaned and tossed her coat over the closest chair. “I’ll make some tea.”
“Sounds good.” She picked up her binder of notes and curled up on the second-hand couch. For several minutes the only sound was the running of water and rattling of the dishes as Pandora gathered the necessary tea things-Hedone had covered three pages before there was a defiant, loud clatter of the metal teapot being slammed onto the stovetop.
“Why won’t you give the guy a chance?” Pandora demanded, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
Hedone looked up at her with a perfectly practiced look of innocence. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, Hedone-the way he looked at you, those smiles he kept giving you, his whole body language screamed that he was interested in you.”
“He never even asked me for my number, Pandora,” Hedone said pointedly.
“Obviously because he was nervous and shy and you weren’t doing a single thing to encourage him!”
“Why are you so wound up about this?” she demanded impatiently, setting aside her notebook. “If you need a hobby, I’ve got several recommendations. Knitting, for instance. Knitting is a productive way to spend your time.”
“Hedone! We’ve been friends for years. We’ve lived together for two. And you’ve never, not even once, brought a man over or mentioned one to me that wasn’t directly related to you!”
“I like being single,” Hedone said defensively. “I’m an independent, intelligent, and perfectly capable woman who doesn’t need to define herself with her romantic attachments. And I like having my alone time.”
“I’m not suggesting you turn into a Bella Swan and start obsessing over this bloke,” Pandora said quickly. “But it’s not going to kill you to try dating someone, just once. If you do it right, it could be a lot of fun. Entertaining, stimulating, a distraction when the stress of classes starts building. And it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to have someone else you could open up to. You know: share things, ask for advice, confide your problems with.”
Hedone snorted. “You should know me well enough by now to know that’s a ridiculous suggestion. I don’t do the whole touchy-feely, bleeding heart, sharing feelings thing.”
“I want to know how you developed this complex,” Pandora said with a frown. “Your mum and dad have been happy together for forever and a day. Did you just have a really awful first boyfriend who fucked you up for every guy since?”
The teapot began whistling shrilly, preventing Hedone from snapping something sharp and uncharitable and distracting Pandora long enough to let her beat an escape to her room.
“Leave my tea by the door,” she shouted as she slammed it.
---
Fall was quickly fading into winter. Hedone had taken to wearing three layers under her jackets and never left the apartment without gloves and a scarf. The best thing to be said for the chillier weather was that she was getting better tips at work-people showed their appreciation for properly prepared lattes and espressos when their fingers were numb and their faces tingled from the wind.
The café was beginning to empty for the night. A couple of the regulars lingered over their last cups. A teenaged boy was surfing Facebook on the public computer in the corner. Less than a half hour to go before she could kick everyone out, wrap up the last of the scones and bagels, wipe down the machines, and go home.
The sleigh bells on the door jangled loudly. She tightened the canister of coffee beans she’d been refilling and turned to address the newcomer with her Friendly Barista Smile™.
“Oh, hello!” Hercules’ thousand-watt smile glowed in the dim lighting of the café. His dark hair was tousled from the wind, his checks rosy and absurdly boyish.
“Hi,” she replied, the Smile™ fading. He was wearing a heavy green canvas jacket tonight, MAXIMA, H stamped above the chest pocket. “What can I make for you?”
“Plain, black cup of coffee, please.”
“No sugar or cream?”
“Nope. Have you worked here long?”
“Since I started taking classes here.” She handed him his cup. “That’ll be $4.50.”
He handed over a balled-up ten. “I heard someone talking about you in one of my classes the other day.”
“Oh?” The register dinged loudly as she counted out his change.
“Is it true that you’re related to Aphrodite Venus? And Zeus Olympian?”
“Yep,” she said noncommittally.
“Wow. That’s intimidating.”
She met his eyes for a brief moment. “Yeah, it can be.”
“Then… If you don’t mind me asking… Why do you work at a coffee shop? I mean, your whole family must have money.”
“I like being self-sufficient,” Hedone said. “My parents get that about me, so they let me fend for myself. They know that if I ever needed anything, I’d ask them.”
“That’s awesome,” he said with an audible touch of admiration. He looked down at his sneakers for a moment. “It’s funny, isn’t it, how we keep running into each other?”
“I’d accuse you of stalking me, if I didn’t know that was absurd,” Hedone said. “I doubt you could be stealthy and subtle if you tried. You must have been the bane of your squad.”
“Yeah,” he said, flushing with embarrassment. “The bull in the china shop, that’s me.”
Hedone had the urge to say something biting and clever. She usually had that urge. But she stopped herself this time, swallowing the words before they could escape. Somehow, the fun had gone out of it-mocking Hercules was like tricking an eager puppy. He was too well-meaning and polite to tease in earnest.
And as he fidgeted before her, looking down at his feet or up at the chalkboard menu so as not to meet her eyes, Hedone felt a pang of guilt. Pandora had been right: she had been rude and short with him. He had never deserved such curt behavior, and had been nothing but friendly with her.
“Hercules, I apologize,” she heard herself saying.
He met her eyes with an almost comical expression of surprise. “For what?”
“For being so taciturn and standoffish,” she said. “In short, for being a bitch.”
He grinned. “No need to apologize-I never thought you were a bitch.”
She smiled in return. It was a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. His grin widened in response.
“So, would now be a good time to ask if you’d ever want to go out?” he asked in a rush, as if afraid of losing steam in mid-sentence. “I, I mean, nothing fancy or anything. Just… out. To a movie, or for some coffee-well, maybe not coffee. Something like… that.” He trailed off uncertainly.
“Well…”
The sleigh bells jangled loudly. Hedone glanced to the door, realizing as she did that everyone else had left. The café was empty save for herself, Hercules, and this newcomer in a dark hoodie. It was also almost ten minutes past closing, and she hadn’t even begun to clean up.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she called to the late arrival. “We’re actually closed for the night. I forgot to turn off the sign. We’ll be open tomorrow at 6, though.”
The stranger didn’t move. His hood was raised, his face completely in shadow. Tiny warning bells were dinging in the back of her mind.
“I’m serious,” Hedone said with an edge of annoyance. “You’re going to have to leave. Look, I’ve already turned off the machines.” She flicked off the switches in a pointed way.
“I want what’s in the till,” he said firmly, hands still in the pockets of his hoodie.
Her jaw tightened in anger. And, as usually happened when she was angry, she said the first thing that came to mind without the slightest hesitation. “You can want it until you’re blue in the face, but you’re not getting anything.”
“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.” His right hand slid from the pocket, a gun clenched tightly in it. It was a small, black, somewhat nondescript gun. Nothing flashy or ostentatious. But it was still plenty menacing, and Hedone felt a little shiver of fear.
Logic said that the gun wasn’t the slightest threat to her, that she could take a bullet without the smallest wound or negative reaction. She was immortal, and nothing manmade could harm her. But she had lived among mortals for so long-the whole family had-and the magic of the pact they had all agreed to so many years ago made her feel like a mortal. She knew all of the highs and lows of human emotion now, and fear could burn across her mind like a glowing brand.
“Open the register. Hand over the money. It’s very simple.” The gunman’s voice was harsher now that he’d revealed the gun. There wasn’t nothing shaky or uncertain about it or his stance. It was clear that he’d held a gun before. This wasn’t just a desperate punk kid putting on a brave act.
“I think you should put down the gun.”
Somehow, in the hour-long minute since the man had made his demand, Hedone had forgotten that Hercules was still standing next to the counter. He’d set his cup down, turning to face the gunman. His face was blank and expressionless. The boyish, awkward air had disappeared like a moth in a flame.
“Don’t be a hero,” the gunman warned, raising the gun. “I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”
“Hercules, it’s okay,” Hedone said, hoping her voice didn’t waver too much. “There’s only like fifty dollars in the register. It’s not worth getting shot over.” She stepped back to the till, popping open the drawer with a loud ding. She pulled out the bills as quickly as she could and sidled around the counter, holding out the money as she inched towards the thief.
He snatched the money from her, shoving everything into his pocket. “Nicely done. You’ve got a brain behind that pretty face. That very pretty face.” His hand darted out again, and he’d grabbed her arm before she could recoil. “I think your friend should leave now.”
Hercules moved before Hedone could say anything, before even the gunman could react. One hand closed around the gun, twisting away the arm that held it, as the other fist swung upwards in a vicious uppercut, striking the man’s chin with a sickening crack. The thief collapsed in a limp jumble of limbs, the gun sliding across the polished floor with a loud shhh of metal against stone.
Hedone stood gaping silently for what felt like an eternity. Her eyes moved from the unconscious would-be robber to the gun (it was crushed, the metal crumpled in on itself, how did that happen?) to Hercules, would stood with his hands still tightened into fists, his face taut with anger. It was the first powerful emotion she’d see him show besides embarrassment, and the effect was akin to being doused with a bucket of cold water.
She gasped a quick breath. “Hercules, you’re a fucking idiot.”
He glanced sharply at her, his expression softening, the anger draining away. “Yeah, I can be that at times. But did you really think I was going to let him touch you?”
“Chivalry’s dead, you know,” she said shakily.
“Not for me it isn’t. Are you okay?”
“Me? You’re the one who was almost shot.” She pulled out the closest chair and sat down before her legs gave way. After a moment of fumbling she managed to extricate her mobile phone from the pocket of her apron and punch in 911.
---
An hour and a half later, Hedone found herself sitting at a sticky table in the International House of Pancakes two blocks down from the café. Hercules was staring down at his menu in rapt interest, one hand tapping a steady drumbeat against the laminated wood.
Hedone had never been inside an IHOP before-it wasn’t the sort of place her family frequented. She felt out of her element and a little disgusted; the syrup containers had dripped and were now sitting at the end of the table in congealed blueberry, strawberry, and maple-flavored puddles. An elderly man four tables over was coughing damply like a tuberculosis patient at the final stages. A group of college students, smelling strongly of cigarettes and alcohol, were talking loudly behind them about the impracticality of Communism and the merits of the Socratic Method.
“The question is, do I want pancakes or waffles?” Hercules murmured to himself.
Hedone picked up her menu hesitantly, trying to hold the edges as gingerly as possible. Who knew how many greasy fingers had touched the thing before?
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” she said coolly. The strawberry crepes didn’t look too bad.
“I don’t think the police knew what hit them,” he chuckled.
“What do you mean by that?”
“It was obvious they expected you to be hysterical and emotional-that one sergeant’s mouth dropped open when you explained what happened so matter-of-factly and asked them to drag the bloke out so you could finish closing the shop.”
“I don’t get paid for overtime,” she said blithely.
“You’re the most interesting girl I’ve ever met,” he said with a smile.
“You don’t get out a lot, do you?”
“No, I’m serious. You’re like… A force of nature or something.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“No, I mean… You don’t let anything phase you. You do and say whatever you want-you’re so confident and sure of everything.”
“You ready to order?” the waitress interrupted. She was MARLA, according to her nametag. She was also chewing a piece of gum loudly.
“Two stacks of your buttermilk pancakes and two sides of your sausage links,” Hercules said promptly, handing over his menu. “And coffee. Black, decaf.”
“Uh huh,” she said listlessly, jotting it all down on her notepad. “And you?”
“Strawberry crepes and a glass of milk. Thanks.”
“Be out in a few minutes. Shout if you need anything.” She shambled away, pausing to tell off the boozy group behind them to stop screaming or else she’d kick them out, that was their second warning and there wouldn’t be a third.
“Hercules,” Hedone said, examining the water spots on her silverware. “How did you do that to the gun?”
He fidgeted slightly. “Do what?”
“You know very well what. How did you crush that gun?”
“I… I just did.”
“You just did?”
“You’re going to think I’m a freak,” he said quietly, staring down at the table. “Most people do.”
Hedone felt the strangest pressure in her chest. Pity, empathy, something else? “Hercules, I won’t think you’re a freak.”
It was the softest he’d ever heard her voice, and he looked up hopefully. “…I’m really strong. Not just strong-I’m not saying that to brag or anything, and it’s not just that I’m strong. It’s like… If I’m not careful, if I don’t think about it constantly, I could hurt people. I’ve broken doors before because I forgot to turn the handle all the way before I pulled. When I was in high school, on the football team, I threw the ball so hard I broke a couple of the receiver’s ribs. And a couple years ago, when I was in Iraq, there was a bomb that went off in the middle of my convoy. A couple of my buddies fell, and the jeep behind us flipped towards us-it was going to crush us, and I just… Caught it. I caught this huge jeep and set it back down.”
So that explained why he was always so awkward and clumsy; he was terrified of breaking everything around him, so he moved gingerly. That was why he reminded her of a puppet whose strings were being snipped, all ungainly limbs and fumbling hands.
“I’m like a mutant or something,” Hercules said. “But I don’t even have a cool origin story like Spider-man or Wolverine. It’s not like I was hit by gamma radiation or anything.”
The waitress returned with their plates, and for several minutes there was silence between them as they ate.
“Thank you, by the way,” Hedone said, setting her glass down.
“Hmm?” he ‘said’, mouth full of pancakes.
“With the robber. I don’t think I actually said thank you yet, and I did appreciate it. As absolutely, utterly, bloody stupid as it was, it was also very brave.”
“You’re welcomed,” he blushed.
“But next time you take me out, I think you should pick a place where our elbows don’t stick to the table,” Hedone said, making a face.
“Next time?” he echoed, unable to hide his pleased excitement.
“Well, I guess I owe you a couple of dates,” Hedone said casually, spearing the last strawberry with her fork.
---
For the second date, he took her to a poetry reading at a small bookshop. There were maybe ten other people in the audience, all of them hipsters in messy scarves and berets. He sat very quietly, attention politely focused on the poet (who wasn’t half-bad, actually), but she had a suspicion that he didn’t ‘get’ many of the messages behind the convoluted prose.
“Did you like it?” he asked her when they were leaving, making their way back to the bus stop.
“It wasn’t bad,” she admitted. “A couple of his poems were quite interesting. Did you like it?”
“Poetry’s one of those things I wish I understood but don’t really,” he confessed.
“Then why did you suggest a poetry reading?”
“I thought it was the sort of thing you’d like.”
And that was Hercules all over, wasn’t it? So well-meaning, always ready to please someone else, incredibly thoughtful and considerate about other’s wants or needs. It was a skill she’d never mastered-thinking of others before herself. And it wasn’t her parents’ fault, either. They’d raised her well, and with love. It was at the genetic level, a dominant trait that ran through her entire family and had somehow managed to skip the occasional fortunate, like her father or Hestia or Hephaestus. She was an immortal Olympian, and as such she was autonomous, confident, and just a tad bit selfish.
“It was nice,” she assured him as they got onto the bus. “I really enjoyed myself. But how about I choose where we go next?”
---
On the third date they went to Aladdin’s Cave, the biggest arcade in town. There was skee ball and virtual racing games, Dance Dance Revolution and a huge dart board that covered most of a wall. His eyes lit up as soon as he saw the sign, and she felt a rush of pleasure as he hurried over to the counter to pay for their tokens.
“I haven’t been to an arcade in years!” he said over the clamor of bells and sirens and sound effects. “Whac-a-mole! That was my favorite when I was a kid!”
She laughed as he attacked the animatronic rodents with a club that looked ridiculously small in his large hand. It was a full-bodied laugh that made her cheeks flush, and when she caught her breath she realized she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so hard.
“Twenty tickets! Heck yes!” he said in triumph, snatching up the stream of yellow paper in one hand and grabbing one of hers with the other, rushing over to the Duck Hunt shooting range. “I bet you a hundred tickets that I’ll get at least ten ducks more than you!”
---
On the fourth date, he took her to a classy seafood restaurant on the Bay. It had been a good half hour bus ride, and it was far too chilly for the little black dress and heels she was wearing. But if he looked good in tee-shirts and jeans, he looked almost divine in a suit, his shoes freshly polished and red tie tightly cinched. He’d even combed his hair back for the occasion.
As they walked down the pier to the restaurant, she slipped her arm through his, smiling at the pleased expression that seized him. He’d make the absolute worst liar, the way he wore his every emotion plainly for the world to see.
The restaurant was quiet and private-they had an entire corner to themselves. The music was subdued and jazzy, the lighting low and intimate. He fumbled slightly with the different silverware, and she was quick to move the candle to her side of the table as soon as they sat down.
“Does your mum still live in Montana?” she asked after the waiter had taken their order.
“She died a couple years ago. While I was in Iraq.”
“I’m sorry.” She had the urge to reach across the table and lay her hand over his. For a second she hesitated. But when she saw the light that flickered in his eyes at her touch, she was glad she’d given in to the impulse. “What about your father?”
“I never knew him,” he said with a wry, sideways quirk of his lips. “Mum never talked much about him. I don’t think they spent much time together. He left before I was born. I don’t know if he even knew I existed.”
“I’m sure it’s hard, not having much family. But sometimes it’s just as difficult with a big one.”
“Speaking from experience? You’ve never said much-what’s your family like?”
“Well,” she said hesitantly. “My mum and dad are great. Mum’s an author; she writes those ridiculous romances you see in supermarkets. And dad’s sort of… In the match-making business.”
“Like those online dating sites? eHarmony and Match.com, that sort of thing?”
“…Sort of. And I’ve got about two dozen aunts and uncles and cousins. And some of them are pretty rich and famous,” she said apologetically. “Like my Uncle Zeus-he owns Olympus Air. Another uncle runs Underworld Records. And my grandmother’s Aphrodite Venus.”
“Wow. That’s intimidating, having relatives like that.”
“Yeah, it can be at times. But it helps that they’re all really petty and about as mature as a bunch of third-graders,” Hedone said cynically. “It’s hard to be intimidated by people who hold grudges for decades over things like stealing a fancy harp or giving fi-things away.”
They talked about their classes and the upcoming midterms. She agreed to help him study that weekend for his American History final. He asked her if she had any plans for the Christmas holidays. The food came and they spent several minutes cutting their steaks and cracking their lobster shells.
“So… I have something of a confession,” he said finally.
“Oh? Is it a juicy one?” She sipped nonchalantly at her wine.
“You’re sort of… The first girlfriend I’ve ever had.”
She stared at him for a moment, fork halfway to her mouth. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to her until just then that yes, she was in fact in a relationship. Hercules was her boyfriend. When did that happen?
“Really?”
“Yep. Am I doing a good job?”
“…At being a boyfriend?”
“Uh-huh?”
“You’re doing fine,” she said after a moment’s reflection. “To be equally honest, it’s not as if I’ve had much practice at being a girlfriend, either.” There had been a few men, before and after leaving Olympus, and she wasn’t exactly ignorant on certain intimate matters. But it had been decades since her last actual relationship, and the courting customs had changed vastly since the Second World War.
“Oh, I thought you would have had loads of boyfriends,” he said candidly. “I mean, you’re just so… Nice.”
“Nice? Me?” Hedone gaped at him for a moment. No, that wasn’t a word she would have used to describe herself. She could be polite and considerate at times, sure, but she wasn’t soft or sweet enough to be ‘nice’.
“Of course you are,” he said, surprised by her reaction.
“Oh. Well, thank you,” she managed to say, feeling her cheeks burning. “I find it hard to believe that you’ve never had a girlfriend.”
“Why do you say that?” he asked earnestly.
“Uh, well…” She couldn’t very well say, You’ve got a downright incredible body, the sort of face women dream about at certain times of the month, and one of the sweetest dispositions imaginable. Not even Kansas farm boys come as honest and earnest as you. “…You’re very nice, too. All kinds of nice.”
Now it was his turn to blush and fumble with his napkin.
“Haven’t you ever wanted a girlfriend before?” Hedone asked with curiosity.
“Sure I have. It’s just… I’m a bit afraid.”
“Afraid? The only kind of girl who could hurt you would be a heartless bitch,” Hedone said without thinking.
He smiled. “That’s reassuring to hear.”
“Uh, yes, well.”
“No, I’m afraid I’ll hurt someone. The whole He-Man strength,” he said with a frown. “I always have to be so careful. What if I forget myself in the whole… Well, you know, the… heat of the moment.” The last few words came out in a nearly inaudible whisper. He was almost as red as a tomato by now.
Hedone couldn’t help herself: she laughed, and loudly. It was his whole manner, akin to a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar.
“I’m sorry,” she said when she’d regained control of herself. “I know it’s a serious concern, but the way you explained it…”
“Yeah, I’m a bit ridiculous,” he said sheepishly. “I think I’ll always be the backwoods boy.”
“That’s okay,” she said, taking another sip of wine. “Maybe I like that about you. Maybe I’m tired of cosmopolitan people who are always sneaky and subtle.”
---
They took their time in walking back to the bus stop, lingering along the beach despite the chill. It was nice, leaning against him like this, one warm arm around her shoulders as they looked out at the blinking lights of the boats and buoys.
“What if I told you you weren’t the only one who has a hard time fitting in?” Hedone said quietly.
“Do you have a big dark secret, too?” he teased.
“Sort of. You probably won’t believe me, though.”
“Try me. I’ll believe anything you say.”
“That’s dangerous,” she warned. “I could take advantage of that.”
“You could,” he agreed. “But I don’t think you will.”
“…I’m not human.”
“You’re an alien? Neat. What planet are you from?”
“No, I’m not an alien,” she said, poking his side and making him yelp in surprise. “I’m an immortal.”
“Like the Highlander?”
“No,” she said with an exasperated laugh. “I’m… Well, I’m a goddess.”
“I already knew that,” he said with a smile that threatened to turn her legs into jelly.
“I’m serious, Hercules. My mother is Psyche. My father is Eros-you know, the God of Love?”
“…If you’re a goddess, why are you going to school at Stanford?”
“It’s a really long and complicated story. The short version is: because I wanted to. I wanted to get away from the madness that is my family and live on my own for a while. I wanted to be normal. Or, at least as normal as you crazy mortals can get.”
“So you’re immortal. Do you have special powers, too?”
“Not especially,” she said. “I’m a very minor goddess. My one job back at Olympus was to carry the cup of ambrosia, for fuck’s sake.”
“Wow. This is something. I mean, I knew you were special the second I saw you, but I don’t think I could have predicted this.” He scratched his head, ruffling his gelled hair. “So does that mean we can’t be together? Is it forbidden or something?”
“No,” she laughed. “Given my family’s track record, being with mortals is about as far from forbidden as it gets.”
“But… I’m just a man, Hedone.”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” she said slowly. “But you’re something better than that, too, I think.”
And she kissed him right there, on a cold and windy beach strewn with shells and rocks and beer bottle caps. His lips were just as soft and warm and nice as she had expected, and it was even better when he kissed her back, arms sliding around her waist and back, lifting her up off her feet.
---
After the sixth date…
“D’you want to come in?” she found herself asking, poised in the doorway, key still in the lock. “Pandora’s visiting her cousin this weekend.”
“Uh… Okay,” he said nervously, hands shoved in his pockets.
“Want a cup of tea?” She draped her coat and scarf on the back of the couch and hurried into the kitchen, hoping a task would help steady the heart that was suddenly beating erratically in her chest.
“That’d be great, thanks.” He sat gingerly on the edge of the couch and glanced around at the vibrant artwork covering the walls. “This all Pandora’s work?”
“What? Oh, yeah.”
“She’s got a thing for boxes, doesn’t she?” he commented.
“Yeah, she’s very into geometric designs. Is green tea okay?”
“Great.” He took the mug from her and sipped at the scalding brew tentatively. “So break starts on Tuesday.”
“Yep.” She sat beside him and fussed with the coasters on the coffee table.
“Are you going to go visit your family?”
“I might spend a couple days with Mum and Dad-visit a few cousins I like, that sort of thing. But I’ll probably stay here for most of it. Pandora doesn’t have the money to go home, either, so I thought I’d keep her company. What are your plans?”
“Non-existent,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t have any family to visit. I think I’m just going to relax and try to recover from the midterms. I hope I passed everything.”
“I’m sure you did,” she said bracingly. “After all of that studying we did, I’d be absolutely shocked if you didn’t get hundred percents across the board.”
“You’ve got more faith in me than I do,” he chuckled.
“After all of the things you’ve done, you should have more confidence,” she said firmly. “You survived Iraq, and a coffee house robber, and dating me: graduating from Stanford should be cake in comparison.”
“You’re the best girlfriend in the world,” he said devoutly.
She scoffed and said in a teasing way, “I’m the only girlfriend you’ve ever had. You don’t have much of a frame of reference.”
“Even so, I’m pretty sure it was my lucky day when you agreed to a date.”
“Hercules, just shut up and kiss me.”
He did, and didn’t do too bad of a job at it, either. It was impressive how much he’d improved in such a short time, from uncertain fumbling to the kind of kissing that made her brain short circuit in a wave of that feels amazing, just like that. He may not be one for book smarts, but when it came to the practical skills he was a fast learner.
It wasn’t long before they found themselves sliding down against the couch, mugs of quickly cooling tea utterly forgotten on the coffee table. She’d expected this-no, wanted this. Why else would she have invited him inside this late in the evening? And it had been, she admitted to herself, an awfully long time.
Pandora had been right, in that infuriatingly nosy way of hers: sometimes it could be very nice to have a boyfriend, someone to talk to and share things with and have some fun with…
He pulled away just as she started to fumble with his shirt. “Hedone, wait.”
“What? Why?” She was pretty sure her eyes were crossing.
“Are you sure?”
“Hercules, is there any way I could make it more obvious that I’m sure?” She grabbed him and pulled him into another searing kiss. It went on, more or less, for several breathless minutes before he extricated himself again.
“I… I’m worried-”
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Uh, well, yes,” he said breathlessly as she shifted slightly beneath him. “I just don’t want to-”
“You’re not going to hurt me,” she said firmly. “I’m a goddess, remember? Nothing mortal could possibly hurt me.”
“You’re sure?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle with you,” she said with a sly smile, pulling at his shirt. He grinned at that, raising his arms so she could tug the tee over his head.
She had been only half-jesting, fully aware of how serious this was for him. How strange it felt, to be in the position of almost complete control with this great man covered in muscle. To be the one who had to be forceful, who had to coax him, who had to guide-
He was one helluva fast learner, though, she remembered with a loud gasp. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life as stars burst behind her eyelids and his name escaped from her lips in a cry.
There was a sudden, abrupt shudder-and the couch tilted with a loud creak of snapping wood. Her eyes flew open as the box of springs beneath her back slammed against the floor, motes of wood dust floating around them, the mugs of tea knocked from the table and rolling across the floor.
“…Whoops,” he said quietly in the aftermath, looking around and back at her with a sheepish smile.
“Don’t worry about it,” she managed to say when she’d regained her breath. “It was a shite couch anyway. We needed a new one.”
There was a sudden banging on the floor from the apartment below.
“What the hell are you doing up there?” an irritated voice shouted. “You got a sledgehammer up there or something?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Hedone giggled. “Bravo, Hercules. You almost brought the house down.”