Chapter Text
The phone buzzed and the screen read a simple 'Z.' Hermes groaned and leaned back, pinching his brow.
"Hnnnnn," he moaned. "Mmmmmfine. Fine. Okay fine. Let's just get this over with."
He hesitated one more time, his fingers twitching over the phone, before finally answering the call.
"Hi," he dropped flatly.
"Hermes, hello," Zeus said in that fake cheerful way he always did. "How is my little son doing?"
Not great, pretty bad actually, not wanting to be patronized to, don’t have the patience for this conversation, does not want to be called little son!
Hermes' face scrunched up tighter.
"Fine," he lied, his voice going high and letting that fact fly free.
“Good good,” Zeus said, completely missing subtext. As per usual. “And are you still living in that apartment?”
But his tone asked ‘are you living in that rat hole.’ Hermes took a quick look around his rat hole, a laughably affordable so-called studio apartment. It was a closet with a toilet in one corner and a sink in the other. There was a single hot plate on the spit of linoleum on the floor where Hermes heated up his ramen. His futon was perpetually in bed mode and took up a majority of his meager square footage. He was flopped out on said futon with his head just dangling off the edge, staring at his rat hole upside down.
“Yup,” Hermes said popping the p. “What do you want?”
“Is it not that I can just call my son?” Zeus asked.
“What do you want?” Hermes asked again.
Zeus clicked a disappointed sigh.
“We just want to know when you’re going to come back home,” he said.
We. The family. Up on their mansion on the mountain, lauding under daddy’s money, doing what daddy said, and living the life that daddy paved out for them. It was little wonder that Hermes' mother ran away. Different from his siblings’ mother(s) and one of the many banes of his step mother.
No. Hermes was not going back home.
“Mmm pretty much never, I want to say there Zeus,” he said.
“Would it really pain you so much to call me father?” Zeus asked.
“Yup!”
Again another sigh, this time more dramatic, drawn out, beleaguered. His famously quick temper already flaring up as he lost patience with the son that played on it.
“Well do you need money?” Zeus asked. “You know me and your mother are always happy to provide.”
Yes, Hermes thought.
“No,” Hermes said. “First off, she is not my mother. And second, I do not need your blood money, I am doing just fine. In fact better than fine.”
“In that apartment?” Zeus asked.
Hermes really regretted picking up the phone.
“I. Am. Fine,” Hermes insisted one more time.
At that Zeus went silent. And the conversation was over.
“You are coming to brunch next weekend,” he commanded.
“No I’m not,” Hermes sang and hung up the phone before the temper could really flare. It immediately buzzed in his hand again and Hermes let it drop to the floor where it skittered across the matted carpet.
He had lost his job. Well one of his jobs. One of his three jobs. It wasn’t his fault he got tired and was caught sleeping on the job. Stretched so thin like that just to make ends meet, he had little time for actual sleep. Which was a shame. He actually liked working in the warehouse. It was grossly underpaid but there was something about running back and forth that was positively stimulating. Being constantly on the move like that was right up his wheelhouse.
All he had left was the delivery job and that one was on slippery waters with his old bike. And the mover job was far too inconsistent to properly get what he was needed.
Still. Better than a desk job. He didn’t want to go back to that.
Hermes rubbed his fingers into his temples, listening to his phone buzz again.
He needed that third job. His super had hiked up the rent and if he wanted to eat he wasn’t going to make it that month. He needed new running shoes and a new bike. He needed a new futon mattress for his aching back. He wanted a new phone where he could get off his family’s phone plan. He wanted a better apartment.
He wanted at least one nice thing for himself.
He needed money.
Hermes slid further off the bed and his head thunked against the floor. The phone buzzed against his hair and for a moment it felt nice. It went silent and still before the screen flashed that he had a voice mail. Probably some rage induced tirade sitting fat and plump in his inbox with all the rest.
Hermes mulled over what he could do.
He’d have to go to the job boards again, put his scant resume out there. There was only so much he could do with a BA in linguistics. He did have a multitudinous skill set. Jack of all trades and master of none, a quick study, a quick worker, and a hard worker.
It would be hard to get something other than data entry and he’d have to get lucky.
Hermes scanned over the room and what little belongings he had. He had no more to sell. Everything he had brought from ‘home’ was already gone and all he had left was his blanket.
He could take up gig work, work on commission. Just another inconsistent income. He had sold his computer to make last month's rent and he was pretty sure the pawn shop ripped him off. The thought of working out of the public library was just as appealing as being chained to a desk in a cubicle farm.
He could sell drugs. Hermes didn’t know where he could start there. Did he just find a seller and ask to be a part of their operation? Or would he have to grow his own? Who had time for that?
He could steal. From the old man again if necessary. That just felt like another way of relying on Zeus and that more than anything put a bad taste in Hermes’ mouth.
Hermes rolled over on his futon and picked up his phone. He pressed play.
”How dare you hang up on me young man! You ungrateful, spoiled–”
Hermes pressed delete.
Not for the first time, he toyed with the notion of going. . . home. Not home. To the house. Where his father lived.
The big empty palace where he was constrained, where he had no room to run, where he had no choice. Where he had a nice big room filled with his nice things. Where he had gold and clothes and status. Where he had a car that would go faster and faster and faster. Where he had a constant array of designer running shoes that he blew through with startling efficiency. Where he had to pick just one thing and only one thing to do with his life and never change. Where he would go into the family business just like his brothers and sisters.
Hollow and empty and alone.
Hermes wasn’t that desperate.
His stomach gurgled and he thought about his empty pantry. He had just enough money to stock up on some beans and rice and that would fuel him for a week, maybe two if he stretched it out. He thought of rice and beans and missed the nice things he used to have.
Hermes dragged himself from his futon, face first onto the floor, until he found it within himself to get up. He looked into his empty pantry and found a single packet of ketchup. He snorted to himself.
With no job and no money, Hermes had little to do in that moment. An idle Hermes was a bad Hermes. He needed to keep moving, keep having something to do, something to fill up the spaces in between sleep.
He pulled out his phone and booted up the dating app. Maybe a quick hook up would take his mind off things. He looked to see who was in the area and who would be willing to host. There was no way he was going to have someone over to his rat hole. Nobody needed to see that. Nobody needed to ever know how he lived.
As he swiped through the pictures of mediocre people, the idea of prostitution entered his mind. He laughed at that one. It was an idea, he knew he was a looker, but he wasn’t sure he had the patience for a bad client. Plus, prostitution was far too close to becoming his father for his liking, thank you very much.
As a joke, he opened up his profile and put in a quick line.
looking for sugar daddy ;)
“Ha,” Hermes said, amused at his own humor. And for good measure, he said again “Ha!”
He shoved his phone in his pocket and grabbed his blown out running shoes. Maybe a quick half marathon around the park would take his mind off things.
____
There was an actual invitation. Printed out on thick cardstock with gold embossed calligraphy, the two names to be forever intertwined, extending a cordial invitation to a Mr Charon Chthonic, plus one. Dress code optional, but Charon already knew it would be on the formal side.
His eyes dully slid up to his mother across the table from him.
“Its for your brother,” she said. “You should at least attend for him.”
The sun beat down hot on the back of Charon’s neck. His skin was delicate and he knew he’d burn up quickly. His long hair would do nothing to protect it. It was why he had brought his hat in the first place, but he had been told it was impolite to wear a hat inside, even if ‘inside’ was outdoor seating. The ice in his water clinked and he felt his hand itch to go for his cigarettes.
Damn her, playing on his weakness like that. He had managed to avoid the invitation when it had been mailed to him, feigning ignorance of its existence. He had promised his mother he would put the event on his calendar, secretly hoping that some fire would crop up and work and would be unable to attend. But he had no such luck.
Nyx had cornered him. She had slid the invitation across the table and Charon was forced to physically look at it for the first time.
Thanatos’ engagement to the short man he had brought around last Christmas. Despite himself, Charon found he liked Zagreus and had slipped him a little extra Christmas present as a sort of unofficial welcome to the family. That should have been enough. He didn’t need to be wrangled into the family gathering to celebrate it.
“He would love it if you came,” Nyx said, speaking for Thanatos.
She knew. She knew that invoking any of his siblings’ wants and needs would send him running. He glared at her and pocketed the invitation with a huff.
“Thank you, Charon,” she said and the grateful smile only made the spite twist all the more in his chest.
They fell into their usual silence, the one that followed Charon around. It was awkward for most people, the way he let conversations drop, the way he didn’t respond to most things that they said. Nyx had grown used to it but from time to time he would see her shift uncomfortably or clear her throat. From the way she would ask how he was doing and he’d only respond with a nod or a grunt and not return the question in kind.
He waited for the inevitable uncomfortable conversation to start up and hoped the food would come out before she could. He looked out over the sidewalk and pretended to scan the crowd, leaning against his fist.
“Has work kept you busy?” she asked.
Charon closed his eyes. He knew where this was going.
“Hmm,” he grunted.
“Are you getting out?” she asked. “Meeting people?”
Charon didn’t dignify that with an answer. He shouldn’t have to. He knew what she was getting at and did not want to go through this again.
“Maybe you can bring someone along with you,” she suggested. “A date perhaps?”
Lunch chose that moment to arrive. He turned his focus on his extremely dead fish, a single glassy eye staring up at him and reflecting his own miserable disdain. The two of them equally as happy to be sitting at that table. He went for his silverware and promptly ignored his mother.
“I worry for you Charon,” she said, disregarding her own salad. “You are the oldest of your brothers and sisters and yet you are all alone.”
Charon drove his knife down hard enough to clink against the ceramic and jangle his bracelet. He went through the meticulous process of picking out pin bones, his mouth skewed into a frown and hoping it came off as concentration.
“At this rate, Hypnos will be married long before you are.” She laughed at her own joke, but it died when she saw she was alone. “Charon. I don’t want you to be alone like this. And at your age. . . Charon.”
She reached out and placed a delicate hand over his, slowly lowering his loaded fork back to the table and garnering his attention. He finally looked up at her, sunken eyes boring directly into her own. His intense gaze never seemed to affect his mother, not even when he was a child, silent as the grave. Nyx accepted him for who he was.
“I would feel better if you met someone. Someone to share your life with,” she said, her voice just as precise and careful as it always was. “Its getting to a point where you can no longer wait for someone to come along and you need to take a proactive role. I know your job is demanding, but you must make time for yourself now and again, right?”
It came from a place of empathy, he knew that.
Charon just didn’t want to hear it.
He listlessly glared at his mother, silently reminding her that this was the reason they had grown so apart. Her own work had occupied her time, had pushed away his father, and pushed away him. Nyx had taught him responsibility and diligence, not romance and companionship.
His work was his time to himself.
“I’m not saying you have to find someone for your brother’s party,” she continued. “But it would put my mind at ease if there was someone at your side.”
At that, Charon deflated. He looked off to the side, to the people walking down the street, to the handsome couple who stood arm in arm. It had played on his mind now and again, just when Nyx brought it up, how alone he was. He told himself he preferred it that way, resolute and happy in his solitude and quiet. But in vulnerable moments, the idea crept into his mind what it would be like to have someone to share his life with, to wake up with another person and have them hold him in his arms.
He took his hand out from under Nyx’s and ate his lunch.
She sighed, giving up.
“Have you spoken with your sisters lately?” she asked. “Do you know if they’re coming?”
He did. Nemesis said she would. Eris hemmed and hawed about it, but he knew she’d give in in the end. Just like he would. They were weak for their little brothers.
Charon let the conversation slip to other things, listening to Nyx’s quiet tone list Thanatos’ latest triumphs, how his new job was going. She went on about Hypnos working under her firm and how she was trying to let him find his own way. It seemed to be working. All things he wanted to hear.
She managed to pry out of him what few details he had to share, but it was mostly his life as a hedge fund manager and he could see her eyes glaze over as she smiled and nodded.
When lunch was over, Charon paid for the meal, despite Nyx’s protests. He put his hat back on to protect himself from the offense of the sun. Stress made him go for a cigarette and he lit up as he waited for his car.
____
“Listen. Why are you even applying for this job?”
Hermes sat across from the big man with a big fake smile plastered to his face. He fought against the struggle to sit still, his hands fidgeting and folding over and over in his lap. He was dressed in the last tie he had, his shirt untucked, and he wore his shitty sneakers. He wondered if that was maybe the reason Sisyphus was asking that question, that Hermes looked like enough of a scrub that he wasn’t good enough for even this crappy personal assistant job.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Hermes asked as politely as he could.
Sisyphus sighed and set Hermes’ resume down on the table. He folded his hands together.
“You’re clearly overqualified for this job,” he said. “Why are you even trying to get it?”
Oh. Hermes hadn’t expected that. He glanced out the window real quick, dying to be outside where he could run away and scream.
“I guess I’m looking for a new opportunity, you know,” he said. “A new path, and this job seemed pretty interesting. I mean how could I pass up the chance to work as a personal assistant to a CEO of his very own stone and granite company. I mean, I just really love . . . countertops?”
Hermes had really tried not to babble. He tried to reign it in. Interviews brought out the absolute worst in him.
Sisyphus gave Hermes a bland but sympathetic look, not buying a second of it. He had such a light voice, Hermes had been anticipating a waif of a man and was surprised to find the hulking giant before him. Bouldy Operations was a relatively new company. The second Hermes took a step in the building, he knew something was sketchy about it, but he was desperate and didn’t mind a little bit of sketch in his life. Sisyphus seemed pleasant enough and Hermes could see himself working for the man.
At a desk.
Doing menial tasks.
Hermes dropped the smile and leaned across the table, resting his head against his hand.
“Okay. You got me,” he said. “I have absolutely no interest in whatever it is you do here. I just need the job. I need the money. And it seems like I could do it real real easy. I know I’m a hard worker and whatever you throw at me I can do, I promise you that. But I need the work so please. Pretty please? Give me a job.”
The desperation should have annoyed Sisyphus, but the man was nothing but amicable. He smiled sweetly and Hermes knew instantly that he wasn’t going to get the job.
“You don’t need this,” he said. “You can do better than this.”
Hermes deflated in his seat. This time when he looked out the window his eyes stayed there. His mouth worked to the side in a half pout.
“You just have to keep searching and eventually the right opportunity will come to you,” Sisyphus said. “You’ll find your place where you’ll be fulfilled. Don’t settle for a personal assistant job.”
Hermes knew what that meant and he didn’t blame the man. He didn’t want to hire some kid who would get bored after three months and then up and leave without a moment's notice. Who was he kidding, one month. Sisyphus could read a situation and did not want to be doing this dance all over again in a matter of weeks.
“But I need the money,” Hermes mumbled.
“Chin up young man,” Sisyphus said, standing to his feet. Hermes joined him, getting up with less gusto than the giant. “You’ll find that special something one day.”
He held out his hamhock of a hand and it practically crushed Hermes’ own when he shook it. He clapped Hermes on the back and Hermes lurched forward from the force of it.
“Or you could always start your own company,” he laughed, jovial at his own suggestion.
Hermes walked out of the complex, loosening his boring standard tie as he did. He mulled over the idea of starting his own company, but wasn’t sure what he would even do. What would occupy his mind, keep him moving, keep him interested? If it involved travel and new and shiny things then he would jump on the chance the second it arose.
That was worth looking into, he supposed.
He clicked his tongue and pulled out his phone, ticking that job off the list. And it was so promising too, flying through the phone interview like that only to trip and stumble at the finish line. He scrolled through the job board, looking for something he hadn’t yet applied to, ready to send his resume out like a blunderbuss.
When a push notification flashed on his phone.
Hermes frowned at it. It was from the dating app. He hadn’t flagged himself open for a hook up, not while he was in the middle of an interview and two neighborhoods away from his own. Who was even looking at that time of day anyways?
Hermes paused at that. He would look at that time of day.
He sighed and opened up the app to see what kind of idiot was messaging him.
Hello.
I need a date for a party.
____
It was a last resort.
Nyx’s words wormed into Charon’s brain like a persistent cancer. Not the fear of being alone, but that she brought it up at all. Memories of the last family gathering and the one before that and the one before that played on repeat in Charon’s head. Being cornered and asked time and time again when he would find someone. He could only imagine how much worse it would be at an engagement party. He could already hear it.
What about you Charon?
And when are you going to get married?
Have you found anyone yet?
With humor, like it was a joke. Or worse, with insistence and impatience, with another reference to Charon’s ever increasing age. As if he didn’t know.
There were only so many times that he could shrug, give an excuse, or simply just walk away from the conversation. He was already the black sheep of the family, he didn’t need to have that point driven home further.
Charon knew he’d be cornered into some conversation or another, even if it wasn’t about his perpetual bachelorhood. He’d be patient and listen, but eventually expected to speak. He was looking forward to that least of all.
He barely wanted to go to these things in the first place. Work hadn’t given him an excuse. He half hoped he would come down with something and suddenly couldn’t make it. He had spent a brief moment looking down his stairs, contemplating letting himself just fall down them, just to get out of his brother’s party.
He knew he was being ridiculous.
Charon smoothed his suit out on the bed, looking down at it, specifically designed for him. A beautiful affair of sweeping dark fabric tinged with gold. Not particularly ostentatious, not enough to stand out, but enough that he would look imposing, would reflect his own personal wealth. He would wear his bracelets and his necklace, as he always did, and the coins clinked together when he walked. No amount of commentary from Hypnos would ever deter him.
If only he could wear his hat indoors.
Charon looked over his outfit and pondered. An idea curdled in the back of his brain. Another accessory he could add to his outfit that would stop all those pestering questions in their tracks. A person at his side. Thats all it would take. One look at a poor individual who would be saddled with Charon for just a single evening and his family might be satisfied.
The party was in a few hours. He had no inner social circle to ask. Hell, he didn’t have an outer social circle to ask. The idea was stupid.
Charon was going to do it anyways.
Charon pulled out his phone and quickly pulled up a dating app that Eris had forcibly installed nearly a year ago. He hadn’t opened it since. The picture she had put in his profile had been quickly snapped, his hat covering up most of his face and an angry sneer on his lips. It was a bare bones profile, stating simply that he was looking for anyone. He came off as hopelessly desperate, but Charon didn’t have it in him to care.
Using the app for the first time was not an entirely difficult experience. The program was pretty intuitive. He had to swipe through pictures and try to find someone who suited his fancy. He treated it like shopping for an accessory, someone to match him. Just another bangle on his arm.
He flipped through photos one at a time. No. No. Definitely no. Too smiley, not smiley enough, Nyx would disapprove of that one, that one looks like they’d just embarrass Charon, that one looks like they would say no. And what in the even hell was that person?
Charon sat down on his bed, frowning at his phone. He leaned into his hand, his fingers running through his hair and and making it stick up at odd angles. Why was this so hard? Charon knew he was particular, but he just needed a person, any person, to pretend to be his significant other for a night.
He resigned himself to picking the next attractive person that crossed his screen, ready to swipe again, when he paused.
The picture was blurred, like the selfie was taken far too quickly, but the details were still there. A broad smile, like he was mid laugh, eyes scrunched up in humor. He had tanned skin that looked like he spent his life in the sun, the exact opposite of Charon’s own sensitive pallor. Dark hair was slicked back on his head, but it stuck up haphazardly in places and gave him a rakish sort of appeal. An array of earrings ran up his ears, swaying with the in motion action of the photo.
Charon clicked into his profile.
It was a lengthy read with far too much information that at the same time told Charon nothing. A runner, a linguist, an entrepreneur. He was educated and humorous and seemed like the kind of person that got along with everyone.
The kind of person that would fit right into a party setting.
The very bottom of the profile was a single statement.
looking for sugar daddy ;)
Charon’s brows rose at that one. He wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not, but that certainly made things a little more interesting. The idea of convincing a random stranger to come to his brother’s engagement party seemed like a challenge. Charon wasn’t a particularly good conversationalist when it came to social interactions, but a business-like transaction? That he could do.
He opened a message to speak directly with this Hermes.
Charon: Hello.
Charon: I need a date for a party.
Hermes was quick to respond.
Hermes: lol wut?
Charon: I have to go to a party this evening and I can’t show up alone.
Charon: Come with me.
He sounded desperate and pathetic.
Hermes: what kind of party
Charon: My brother is getting engaged.
Hermes: people have parties for that?
Charon: Yes.
This didn’t seem to be going well. Charon was getting ready to go back to the swiping mine.
Hermes: what kind of party is it
Hermes: house party? bbq? is there gonna be a pinata?
This was a mistake. Charon should back down, should just suck it up and go alone. But he kept going.
Charon: Its in a hotel ballroom.
Hermes: ah so a fancy party
For the next few seconds, three dots danced next to Hermes’ name as he typed, erased, typed again. Probably figuring out the best way to say no.
looking for sugar daddy ;) his profile had said.
Charon: I can compensate you.
Charon: For your troubles.
The dots disappeared and Hermes went silent. The silence in Charon’s home was suddenly deafening, weighing down on his shoulders.
Hermes: im not a prostitute
Charon: Consider it a nice night out. I’ll treat you.
Hermes went silent again. Charon stared down that smile picture, holding his phone out, and slightly blurred. Charon could be a. . . sugar daddy. For one night.
Hermes: ya sure im not doing anything better rn lol could be fun
Charon let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He went for his cigarettes.
Hermes: i dont have anything to wear
Charon: Thats no problem. I can have something sent up. What are your measurements?
Hermes: haha weird ur a bit of a freak huh? ;)
Charon huffed out a small laugh at that, lighting up a cigarette and blowing out the smoke. The cloud puffed around his head. He was too amused at Hermes’ brazenness to be offended.
Hermes: ok looks like u got a hot date for the night wuts ur address? ill be right over
As simple as that, Charon had his accessory.