Atlantis fic: Grey in the Dark
Title: Grey in the Dark
Fandom: Atlantis
Word count: 2,700
Characters: Jason/Pythagoras, Hercules
Rating: R (sex, pissing)
Trope Bingo: Begs & wagers
This is on the A03 - posting here for completeness.
This completes a Trope Bingo line! YaY!
*
Grey in the Dark
Hercules ripped a flat loaf in two, doused both halves liberally with honey and brought with one huge hunk of bread up to his mouth. Only when this had been consumed did his hunger abate enough to give consideration to his companion. He picked up the remaining bread and paused while honey dripped onto the simple wooden table.
Pythagoras, who had been nibbling small bites of his own loaf, reached out and scooped up a finger dab of honey before Hercules batted him away, the gesture causing more of the sweet sauce to spill. Bread in hand, Hercules turned his gaze on to Pythagoras and eyed him a long moment before speaking.
“You should just go for it.”
“Go for what?” asked Pythagoras who had an idea where this was heading but hoped that feigning ignorance would put Hercules off. No such luck.
“Jason.” The next words were lost in a bready, chewy mumble but immediately Hercules swallowed he was on the attack again. “You should just tell Jason how you feel. That you want in. Or out. Or whatever form of in-out works for you.”
At this point Pythagoras choked on a dry bit of crust, and would happily have expired there and then, only Hercules reached out and thumped him hard on the back so that he remained coughing and breathless but still unfortunately conscious. He could feel a massive blush lighting both cheeks like one of the fire beacons perched high on the castle walls.
Hercules and Pythagoras were on their own today for the first time in weeks and while their friendship was as strong as ever it was clear that what had once been a partnership of two was now very much a group of three. Something was lacking.
The missing member of their trio, Jason, had risen early and announced his attention of visiting the Oracle. He was strangely devoted to the Seer and spent much of his free time at the temple. However, he rarely spoke about what he did or who he saw and the uncommunicative answers to questions discouraged even Hercules from prying.
Pythagoras wished he had the same kind of power.
“What’s stopping you making a move?” asked Hercules, milder now, and in a spirit of genuine concern. “The worst that can happen is that he says ‘no’. And then you both know where you are and you can move on.” He looked Pythagoras up and down. “It’s true, you’re a skinny bugger and you think too much, but you’re not bad looking and, as the saying goes, all cats are grey in the dark.”
“That’s a horrible saying, disrespectful to men, women and cats,” snapped Pythagoras. “You finished eating?” Without waiting for an answer he gathered up the bread and the bowls of olives, honey and fruit and returned them to the side shelves placing thin cloths over them as protection from dust and insects.
The thing was, Jason wasn’t like one of Hercules’ girls. For a start he wasn’t a girl. But aside from that, he simply wasn’t the kind of person who you would take behind a tavern for a fumble and a tumble. Or maybe Pythagoras, whose experience was admittedly lacking in this area, wasn’t the kind of man who could proposition either male or female. He wanted more. Plus, Jason was so beautiful he could have anyone. There was no way he would look at Pythagoras with the sort of desire that Pythagoras longed to see in his friend’s eyes.
Not that there was anything wrong with Hercules’ way of romance. For all his coarse talk, Hercules actually liked women and they liked him. He wasn’t handsome, like Jason, but he had confidence and he was good company.
“You tell a pretty girl she’s clever, and a clever girl she’s pretty,” advised Hercules, who was always keen to share the secrets of his success.
“And what,” had asked Jason, wide-eyed on first hearing this apparently fool-proof method of seduction, “do you tell the girls who are both clever and pretty.”
Hercules clapped his shoulder and laughed. “You don’t! Clever and pretty is a very, very bad combination. Those are the kind of girls you avoid. They’ll have you wed before you know it and life will never be the same again.”
But now Hercules had met Medusa, who was undoubtedly both clever and pretty, and he talked of settling down. He had gone to visit her now even though it was mid-day and she would be at work in the palace and too busy to talk.
Pythagoras lay on the bed and daydreamed about Jason. First, the imaginary Jason and then the real one who had returned from the Oracle.
Pythagoras didn’t ask how things had gone. Jason had that secretive look on his face. He barely paused to greet Pythagoras before he pulled his off his tunic and starting splashing water over his face and chest.
“It’s dusty out,” he explained, although Pythagoras had not commented, only stared, as the water made lank tendrils out of Jason’s hair and dripped down his nose and chin.
Pythagoras wanted so badly to push back the damp strands that it physically hurt. He clenched his hands to his side.
“You’re just showing off your fine muscles,” he said, trying for levity.
“If you’ve got it!” agreed Jason, laughing. He scooped some more water in his hand and flicked it across at Pythagoras. It was true that Jason was proud of his body and prone to displaying it at every opportunity. He never minded being teased though and Pythagoras wasn’t exactly complaining at the view.
He shut his eyes wanting to hold the image as long as possible. When he opened them again Jason was gone.
*
The months passed. They had their routines. Three sides - not equal, but in balance with each other.
Pythagoras was happy.
*
Whatever the Oracle had said to Jason this morning it hadn’t been what he wanted to hear. Usually sunny tempered, today Jason was snappy and edgy and managed to infect both Hercules and Pythagoras with his bad mood.
“Right, that’s it, I’ve had enough,” said Hercules dropping his shovel. They had been working shoring up the foundation of a wall for Sophia’s family inn. Her father, Abydos, had been injured in a skirmish with the Mykens many years earlier and although Abydos could still walk it was with a pronounced limp, and the leg was not strong enough to withstand manual labour. Hercules had volunteered Jason, Pythagoras and himself as casual builders. The labour was free, but Abydos had promised all the wine they could drink. And that, as Hercules said, was as good as coins in the hand.
Jason fancied he had a head for wine. Where Jason lived before, there had been some sort of competition that involved stopping for a drink at every single inn and the winners were the ones who could still stand at the final hostellery. Jason had been awarded some sort of fancy tunic - he called it a t-shirt - to mark his prowess.
Hercules, of course, had his own tales of epic drinking successes. The two swapped boasts while Pythagoras measured the walls, carefully ensuring that the stones they were laying were properly aligned and evenly placed. He worked silently finding pleasure in the simple pattern. After a while his mind drifted on to abstract forms of figures and then, once more, to less abstract forms as he rifled through his mental images of Jason.
He was bought roughly back to earth by Hercules downing tools. Pythagoras stretched his stiffened limbs and tried not to stare to openly as Jason did likewise the sweat glistening off his taut belly - for Jason was again shirtless - and along dark trail of hair that ran down from his navel into his breeches.
“Time for wine,” said Jason, his earlier moodiness forgotten. “We’ve more than earned our pay.”
“All the wine we can drink! That calls for a wager. What say you, Pythagoras?” asked Hercules. “Our man here, Jason, has been boasting as how he can out-drink all of Atlantis. It’s time to put his big words to the test.” Hercules grinned at Jason and then turned and winked at Pythagoras.
“Count me out,” said Pythagoras. He had no head for drink at the best of times. A cup or two of wine was all he could manage without feeling dizzy.
“Count me in,” said Jason, readily. “And get ready to eat humble pie, Hercules. It’s about the only kind of pie you haven’t already eaten today!”
Sophia kept the drink flowing, as promised. Afternoon turned to evening and the denizens of Atlantis came out to enjoy the cooler air and the streets were filled with chatter and music and the barking of the dogs employed by the Watch. Pythagoras usually loved this time of day. He didn’t tonight. There was not much fun in watching two people get progressively more inebriated.
First they were loud, and then they were coarse, and then they were sad, and then amorous. Pythagoras had been through this routine enough times with Hercules to know each stage of this progression. It was disappointing to note that wine worked on Jason in exactly the same way. He liked to think Jason was better than ordinary men. The only question now was who was going to be sick or pass out first.
At last Jason laid his head on the table amongst the wine jug and their empty cups. “I give up,” he said weakly.
“The winner!” crowed Hercules with a triumphant fist pump. He suddenly seemed much more sober than he had a moment earlier. He stood up with exaggerated care. “I think I’ll just see if Sophia’s still up. Can you take Jason home?”
No, thought Pythagoras. But no clearly wasn’t an option as Hercules had already strolled off with barely a stagger in his gait. He gave a thumbs up to Pythagoras as he left. Jason still lay with his head on the table and his eyes shut.
“Come on, Jason,” said Pythagoras at last, easing his arms around the other man’s waist and attempting without much success to move him into an upright position. It wasn’t easy. Jason was larger than him and not supporting much of his own weight. And all the while Pythagoras was aware of the warmth of skin through shirt and the hard muscles under his hands and how very much he had wanted to do this for so long.
Eventually he got Jason upright and out of the tavern. But then Jason wanted to piss and Pythagoras had to hold him steady and guide his hand to protect their sandaled feet from the hot stream of urine, its scent sharp in the still night air. Even that wasn’t enough to damp the erection that had formed from the first moment Pythagoras had touched Jason in the inn. He shifted uncomfortably as he walked. At least Jason was too far gone to notice.
At least Pythagoras hoped he was. Or hoped he hoped he was. He’d had some wine earlier and a few more swallows before leaving the inn. It made him giddy and a bit reckless. Jason was warm in his arms, his uneven breath gusting lightly against Pythagoras’ cheek.
Their house was in darkness. Pythagoras helped Jason to his pallet by touch and then went back to light a lamp and to fetch a large ewer of water. When he returned Jason had shed his clothes and lay naked on the bed. His eyes gleamed in the semi-darkness.
He spoke softly, “I am lost far from home.”
Pythagoras tried to grin, knowing that Jason would not see it, but needing to try. “Atlantis is your home.”
“No. I’m never going back. I’m trapped forever in this doomed city. We are going to be swallowed by the sea and exist only in legend.”
“Silly,” said Pythagoras, moving forward to lay a hand gently on Jason’s bare shoulder. “That’s the drink talking. It makes people think like that. You can get sad or amourous. You’ve clearly gone for sad. But don’t be worried. Atlantis is safe. We’re not going to drown.” He knew he was babbling but seemed unable to stop.
“I don’t want to be sad,” said Jason, catching his hand and pulling him down. “Let’s be amorous instead. We’ll shag our way to oblivion. We’ll be happy while we can. Yes?”
Pythagoras knew he should say no. Jason was drunk and he, Pythagoras, had had enough wine to be reckless. But who could resist Jason? He needed to be needed. And tonight Jason needed him. Pythagoras held nothing back.
And afterwards he lay in Jason’s arms and it was like a dream only he was awake. And then he slept and his dreams were the same as his waking.
Pythagoras crept away as the first light stole through the shutters and the birds chirruped their waking chorus. The bakers would be warming their ovens and the first loaves would soon be ready. He would buy sweet pastries for breakfast and bread and almonds.
*
Jason and Hercules were at the table. They were drinking water and looking the worse for wear with matching pale faces and tousled hair.
“Did you find Sofia?” asked Pythagoras of Hercules. It was a rhetorical question since Hercules had not returned the previous night.
“Aye,” said Hercules and seemed disinclined to speak further. He looked obscurely guilty. Pythagoras wondered if he was afraid that Medusa might somehow hear of his activities.
“And how’s your head, Jason?” asked Pythagoras, teasing. He was sore this morning, walking had hurt. But he had no regrets. He’d washed cursorily, not wanting to wake Jason up, and there was stickiness still between his buttocks, the indefinable scent of Jason lingering on his skin. Hercules had been right. He should have been brave earlier and not wasted months. But this feeling was good, perhaps all the better for having waited and wished for so long.
Jason took a deep gulp of water before replying. He spoke slowly and carefully as if each word was a little stab of pain.
“My head is like a stone. I have no recollection of anything after that final drink. What was in that wine? I’ve not even sure how I got home.” He paused and swallowed some more water. “Is that breakfast? I don’t think I can face it. I need to see the Oracle again this morning. She said something yesterday about Princess Ariadne. I think the Princess might in danger. We may need to help her.”
The hot day grew cold. Pythagoras watched Jason’s face looking for some kind of clue. “You don’t remember anything? Nothing at all?”
Jason rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and looked across at Pythagoras in uncomfortable confusion. “No, nothing. It’s embarrassing. I can remember holding someone and think I might have had some sort of one night stand. Anyway I was alone when I woke up. I hope I didn’t say or do anything that would cause you distress.”
“No,” whispered Pythagoras. The single syllable was all he could manage.
Jason relaxed with obvious relief. “That’s good. I know how you feel about casual sex and I’d hate for a meaningless drunken encounter to change things between us. You know you’re important to me.”
Pythagoras stared at him. Jason looked away.
Pythagoras couldn’t stay here. Hercules was eying a pastry speculatively. He had the constitution of an ox. Jason was still sipping water. Neither looked up as Pythagoras edged to the door and slipped away.
What was the worst that could happen, Hercules had asked? Jason could say no. If only he had. Instead he had said yes. And that was a thousand times worse. Now hope was gone.
He walked blindly not caring where he was going but allowing his feet to pick a way across markets and squares and along familiar paths. This was home, this city of beautiful buildings enclosed by a protecting sea. Atlantis was all Pythagoras needed to be happy. That would be enough. It would have to be.
*