Chapter Text
In the middle of the Olympian living room, sprawled in a way that screamed boredom, sat Ares, Artemis, and Hermes.
The atmosphere carried a certain stillness that these gods rarely produced. Artemis occupied one end of the couch with a book open in her hands, her silver gaze moving across the page. Ares, on the other hand, sat with his arms and legs crossed, his eyes unfocused as he drifted somewhere between daydream and consciousness. Hermes lounged with shameless comfort, half slid down his seat, one ankle resting on his knee, fully absorbed in his phone as his thumb flicked across the screen with alarming speed.
The door swung open swiftly, and Hestia entered like the burst of warmth and sunlight she was, her presence immediately softening the room’s lethargy. She looked almost glowing with excitement, eyes bright, hands already animated as she announced, “You would not believe the movie I just finished. It was brilliant!”
Without waiting for permission, she stepped closer and launched into her tale.
“It was about this group of incredibly skilled individuals, each with their own specialty, brought together for one MASSIVE mission: stealing this one of a kind diamond that’s basically impossible to get to. There were laser grids, impossible security systems, betrayal, rooftop chases, actual rooftop chases, and the fight scenes were spectacular. One of them literally flipped over three guards at once!!”
Ares’ brow lifted slowly. and leaned slightly forward, his earlier detachment fading as he followed her descriptions. “They fought?” he asked, unmistakably engaged now.
“Oh, constantly,” Hestia replied, delighted by her nephew's interest.
Artemis had long since lowered her book, one finger marking her place between the pages as she regarded Hestia with curiosity. Even she seemed mildly impressed. Hermes, meanwhile, emitted a noncommittal hum without lifting his gaze from his phone, which he scrolled with unwavering dedication.
When Hestia finished recounting the grand finale, complete with the dramatic extraction of the diamond and a narrow escape, she paused expectantly. Ares looked thoughtful, Artemis attentive, but Hermes finally spoke without looking up.
“That sounds banal,” he said flatly.
Hestia’s eyebrows arched upward, her mouth already opening to protest, but Artemis was faster, as if she was waiting for the opening.
“He’s jealous,” Artemis remarked smoothly.
That, at last, made Hermes look up. His eyes narrowed slightly as he lowered his phone just enough to fix her with a pointed look. “Jealous? Of what, exactly?”
Artemis closed her book calmly and replied, “As the patron of thieves, you don’t exactly steal much these days. Unless we’re counting Aphrodite’s panties.”
Ares’ head snapped toward her at the mention of Aphrodite, his glare sharp and immediate, though his lips betrayed him with the faintest twitch. Hermes frowned, clearly unimpressed by the direction this conversation had taken.
“I am a busy god,” Hermes said defensively, sitting up straighter as he gestured with his phone for emphasis. “I oversee trade, communication, travel, diplomacy, contracts, commerce. Do you know how much paperwork that involves? Forgive me if I don’t have time to orchestrate the coup of the century between courier runs.”
Ares uncrossed his arms now, leaning forward with the faintest spark of challenge in his eyes. “If you were truly in the game,” he said, voice edged with amusement, “you wouldn’t be whining about paperwork. You’d have already assembled a crew and planned something worthy of legend.”
Hermes scoffed, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Oh please, if I did that, you’d all accuse me of showing off.”
“We already do,” Artemis replied with faux sweetness.
Hestia folded her arms with a pleased smile, clearly enjoying the turn of events. “Honestly, I think you’re just out of practice.”
Hermes stared at the three of them, mildly offended but undeniably intrigued. He finally rose at last, slow, and brushed imaginary dust from his sleeve, lifted his chin with theatrical dignity, and allowed a sly, dangerous smile to curl across his lips.
“Well then,” he said smoothly, glancing at each of them in turn, “I suppose I’ll just have to make you all eat your words.”
The promise in his tone was light, almost playful, but there was a glint in his eyes that suggested mischief on a mythological scale. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the living room.
Artemis followed his retreating figure with an unimpressed stare, arms folding across her chest as she leaned back into the couch. After a beat of silence, she said dryly, “I sincerely hope he doesn’t destroy the universe now that he’s motivated.”
Ares exhaled through his nose, half amused, half wary. Hestia, meanwhile, looked faintly concerned, though she was still smiling, as if she wasn’t entirely sure whether she had just inspired a harmless prank or the beginning of a catastrophe.
Hermes sat inside his car with the engine humming softly, one hand draped over the steering wheel as he studied the house before him. The property was beautiful in that understated, old money way, white stone walls, tall windows framed with dark shutters, a perfectly trimmed garden that suggested a personal touch rather than hired help. It was tasteful, elegant, and very unmistakably Odysseus.
Hermes took his time. He reached for a pair of sunglasses and slid them on, then adjusted the brim of a cap low over his forehead. He leaned toward the rearview mirror, tilting his head slightly from side to side, inspecting the look. The disguise wasn’t necessary, everyone would recognize him anyway, but presentation mattered. After a second of silent approval at his own reflection, the corner of his mouth lifted. Satisfied, he stepped out of the car and shut the door with a soft click.
He walked up the stone path at an unhurried pace, hands in his pockets, gaze casually sweeping over the property as though he were merely admiring the landscaping rather than plotting something that would inevitably inconvenience at lot of people and possibly a small portion of his family too. Reaching the front door, he paused briefly, straightened his jacket, and pressed the doorbell.
A few seconds later, the door opened.
Penelope stood there, tall, poised and effortlessly graceful as always. Her eyes widened in immediate recognition before her expression softened into a warm smile. “Hermes,” she said, genuine pleasure coloring her voice. “What a surprise. It’s a pleasure to see you.”
Hermes returned the smile with easy charm, lifting his sunglasses just enough for her to see his eyes. “The pleasure is entirely mine, Penelope.”
Her smile deepened at the familiarity of her name on his lips. “What brings you here?”
He tilted his head slightly. “Is Odysseus home?”
She nodded. “He just came back from the grocery store about twenty minutes ago. He’s inside.”
Penelope stepped aside, gesturing toward the interior. “Please, come in.”
Hermes shook his head politely, setting his sunglasses back into place. “Tempting, truly, but no. I won’t intrude. Would you mind asking him to come to the door? I only need a word.”
Penelope studied him for half a second, curiosity flickering in her eyes, but she nodded nonetheless. “Of course. I’ll call him.”
She disappeared back into the house, and Hermes remained where he was, hands loosely in his pockets, posture relaxed but eyes sharp behind the dark lenses. Through the partially open door he could hear faint murmurs, Penelope’s soft tone, a deeper one responding with confusion. A chair scraped lightly against the floor, then footsteps followed.
Two minutes later, Odysseus stepped outside.
He looked faintly surprised at the sight of Hermes standing on his doorstep in sunglasses and a cap like some kind of undercover celebrity, but he wisely chose not to comment on it. Instead, he leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and pulled the door mostly shut behind him, leaving it open just enough to signal he wasn’t inviting this conversation to settle in and that he was coming back inside once it was over.
“What do you want, Hermes?” he asked plainly.
Hermes lifted his sunglasses slowly, lowering them just enough for his piercing green eyes to meet Odysseus’ olive ones. The usual amusement was gone, replaced with something sharper. “I have a plan,” he said evenly, “and I need your help.”
Odysseus stared at him, really stared, in all the years he had known the god, Hermes had been playful, smug, infuriatingly clever, but serious like this? Rare.
“What plan?” Odysseus asked cautiously.
Hermes straightened, pushing the sunglasses up onto his head now. “Not here,” he replied. “We should talk somewhere else.”
Odysseus closed his eyes briefly and exhaled through his nose. He had just spent three exhausting hours navigating crowded aisles, comparing prices, debating brands, and hauling bags back to the car. All he had wanted was to sit down, eat something warm, and spend the evening with his wife and son in peace. Instead, Hermes had materialized on his doorstep like an omen straight from the underworld.
‘Why, gods,’ he thought, ‘does did always happen to me?’
He opened his eyes again and looked at the god in front of him. The set of Hermes’ jaw made it clear he wasn’t leaving without being heard. If Odysseus refused, Hermes would simply stand there indefinitely, or worse, start explaining the plan loudly enough for Penelope to overhear.
With a resigned sigh, Odysseus pushed himself off the doorframe. “Fine,” he muttered. “Give me a minute.”
He slipped back inside, retrieving his phone and speaking quietly to Penelope, assuring her he would not be long. When he returned, he shut the door fully behind him and faced Hermes with the expression of a man bracing himself.
“Lead the way,” Odysseus said.
They both settled into Hermes’ car, the doors shutting with a muted thud. Hermes gripped the steering wheel but made no move to start the engine. Odysseus sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring straight ahead. A long, dense silence stretched between them, thick enough to qualify as a third presence. No one moved. No one blinked. At one point, Odysseus genuinely wondered if Hermes had fallen asleep with his eyes open.
Just as he was about to turn his head to check for signs of life, Hermes spoke.
His voice was low, almost theatrical, dipped in unnecessary mystery. “I am about to unveil,” he began slowly, “the greatest theft operation the modern era has ever witnessed.”
Odysseus blinked.
“…Excuse me?”
“And,” Hermes continued, ignoring the reaction, “I need you.”
There was another beat of silence.
Then Odysseus slowly turned his head and looked at him like the man had just grown a second head. His eyes widened.
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!” he shouted, nearly hitting his head on the car roof as he tried to stand up but forgot he was in a car. “That’s illegal! That’s not just risky, that’s prison! Actual prison!”
Hermes immediately threw his hands up in defense, scooting slightly closer as if proximity could calm the man down. “Relax! You don’t have to worry about consequences!”
“Don’t worry?!” Odysseus nearly squeaked. “I just came back from that nightmare trip with the old Achaean team, finally got home to my wife, and now you show up dragging me into some criminal mastermind scheme that’s going to send me straight to jail for at least ten years!”
Hermes winced at the volume and leaned back slightly, rubbing his ear.
“Okay, okay--breathe!” he urged.
It took a few long seconds, but Odysseus’ breathing slowly evened out. He pressed a hand to his forehead, clearly questioning every life decision that had led him to sit in this car.
Hermes studied him carefully, then frowned. “I don’t understand why you’re reacting like this. You’ve done worse.”
Odysseus’ jaw tightened.
He closed his eyes for a moment and replied quietly, almost solemnly. “I’ve repented.”
Hermes stared at him for a beat, then scoffed.
Before Odysseus could retreat further into his moral transformation arc, Hermes suddenly grabbed his shoulder and turned him fully toward him, eyes lighting up with dramatic intensity.
“Listen to me,” Hermes said urgently. “I need you. Seriously, Odysseus. The man of twists and turns. The cunning one. The guy who can turn a sheep into a horse if necessary!”
Odysseus made a face. “That metaphor was disturbing.”
Hermes ignored him and kept going, waving his hands like he was pitching a great indie project he desperately wanted funded.
“You cannot spend the rest of your life in some quiet suburban house tending to the lawn and reading detailed reviews of tapestry patterns with your wife!”
Odysseus stared at him.
There was a long pause.
Then he pointed at Hermes.
“First of all, those tapestry reviews are important to her.”
Hermes blinked.
“And second,” Odysseus continued, slowly processing the chaos of the situation, “…you are genuinely unhinged.”
Hermes opened his mouth to protest-
But then Odysseus sighed, closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and when he opened them again, there was that familiar spark of reckless brilliance returning. He looked straight at Hermes and nodded.
“…Fine.”
Hermes’ face immediately brightened.
“Good. I knew you’d--”
“But,” Odysseus interrupted quickly, holding up a finger, “if this goes wrong, I am blaming you publicly. And I will deny knowing you.”
Hermes grinned.
“Perfect. That’s the spirit.”
Hermes clicked his seatbelt into place. He turned the key, the engine roared to life, and for a moment he just sat there with a grin stretching across his face.
He glanced sideways at Odysseus. “I’m going to tell you everything once we arrive at my secret lair.”
Odysseus slowly turned his head toward him.
“Your… what?”
Hermes smirked. “Secret lair.”
Odysseus stared at the road ahead as the car pulled away from the curb, suspicion already rising.
“You mean,” he said flatly, “your apartment.”
Hermes shrugged in a way that neither confirmed nor denied anything. “Lairs can have rental agreements.”
Odysseus sighed heavily and leaned back in his seat, rubbing his face with one hand. The city lights passed by through the windows, blending into streaks as they drove. He watched the scenery move and tried to trace the chain of events that had led him here.
He turned slightly, looking at Hermes again.
“Remind me,” Odysseus muttered, “how exactly did I agree to this?”
Hermes grinned wider without taking his eyes off the road. “You responded to emotional manipulation disguised as inspirational speech.”
Odysseus narrowed his eyes.
“Translate.”
“I appealed to your reputation and your boredom,” Hermes said cheerfully.
Odysseus groaned and sank lower into his seat. “That’s unfairly effective.”
Hermes chuckled. “Relax. You’ll thank me later.”
Odysseus stared out the window, already regretting, but also, frustratingly intrigued by, whatever ridiculous scheme awaited them at this so-called secret lair.