Work Text:
Ever notice how old thoughts from when you first learned something come back when that something starts going wrong?
Control, control, control the- dammit-
For instance, with flying shoes.
Thud!
One of the souls- Eurylochus, the tall fellow-turned at the sound of Hermes' incredibly graceful landing. "Hermes. Are you alright?"
"Perfectly fine!" Hermes hissed out, gritting his perfect teeth for all it was worth as he hopped back up- his winged sandals, the traitors, were still fluttering weakly in protest.
Eurylochus eyed him with an even mix of surprise, confusion and suspicion. "You're favoring one leg."
"Nonsense." Hermes yanked his golden necklace off and transformed it into his caduceus to make up for his aching ankle. "Where's my prophet, now? I came with a gift for them."
"Over by the sail with Polites." Eurylochus' eyes gave him a final once-over. "Have we ever mentioned that Polites was a volunteer medic in the war?"
Hermes did indeed know that, and he ignored Eurylochus’ implication completely as he hobbled over to the sail. Usually he would have just hopped on his caduceus and zoomed over, but he was too tired for any magic now.
As he neared the two, Polites lifted his head, and his brow immediately furrowed at Hermes' slow walk. "Hermes, are you alright?"
"The next person to ask me that is getting whacked up the head with this," Hermes gritted out, lifting his caduceus- and immediately set it back down as his balance wobbled. Polites raised his hands and took a step back, though he did not leave.
"What if I were to be the next?" Tiresias murmured, reaching for their staff to stand until Hermes carefully lowered himself down on the ground. "Or at least, if I asked what happened?"
"Nothing happened," Hermes huffed. "It was my damned sandal. Wings weren't working right, and I can't fly properly if they don't."
"Perhaps I could fetch Thodoris? He's quite a talent with fixing things," Polites offered.
"Leave us."
Polites took the hint and abandoned his attempts to help. Tiresias tilted their head at him, and it frustrated Hermes to no end that he couldn't read their expression. "...So, you hurt yourself in a landing because of your sandals?"
"…yes," Hermes grudgingly admitted.
"What's wrong with your sandals? I've never seen you crash before."
"You've never seen anything, darling," Hermes snapped.
Tiresias drew back a little, and a frown crossed their lips. Hermes stared back at them as their reaction registered only after his words.
Tense silence sat between them, before Hermes turned away, unable to bear continuing to look at their affronted, mildly injured- how ironic- expression. Instead, he busied himself with looking through his messenger bag.
"...here." He fished out a polished tortoise shell he'd found lying among the greenery of Demeter's garden, while trying to find the goddess herself to deliver messages. He dropped it into Tiresias' lap. "Now, stop giving me that look. You know I didn't mean anything."
Tiresias picked up the shell and ran their pale fingers over it, seeming to enjoy the texture.
Hermes suddenly, desperately wanted those fingers in his hair like Tiresias had done a few times before. Desperately.
A soft grunt drew his attention back up to his prophet's glowing eyes- and the crease on their brow. "Darling, what are you doing?"
They didn't respond, so Hermes leaned closer.
"Darling. Come on."
No response. Just their features growing even more strained.
"…please?"
Tiresias finally looked up at him, their eyes dimming, and they released a shaky breath.
"Had a long day, did you?"
"Wha-" Hermes scooted even closer, indignant. "You looked- you didn't have to, I'm right here!"
"Well, you're being testy, so I figured that would be more efficient."
Hermes deflated at that, unable to refute it. He was acting childish and grumpy. In his defense, it had been a long fucking day, and his ankle still hurt. "...fine. Yes. Long day. And my sandals betrayed me right as I was coming down to visit you."
Tiresias lips pursed, and they reached out, near the ground.
"What are you feeling for, darling?"
"Your sandals. One of them, at least."
Hermes took their wrist and guided it to their foot- the one he didn't twist, of course. The wings flapped weakly at Tiresias' delicate touch.
"They feel tired as well," Tiresias noted quietly.
"Yes. They...they do that." Hermes shifted, hissing again as his ankle protested being moved into a position to allow them better blood flow. "Sometimes it connects to my energy levels." He laughed, the bitterness leaking into something higher, faster. "It's bullshit, really! So they just had to make my bad day worse, right as I was nearing the finish line! Right as I was so happy to come down and see you, and- and Zeus and everyone else kept flagging me down for last-minute deliveries, and I can't stop because then everything will just take longer! And then I'll have to wait even longer to see y-"
Tiresias' hand bumped into his chest. Hermes stopped abruptly.
Tiresias didn't explain, just getting a more solid press on his chest, and said one word:
"Breathe."
Hermes stared at them, his hands dropping to his sides as he obeyed- one deep breath in, one deep breath out. Tiresias' hand followed the center line of his chest, tingling up his collarbone to his throat- Hermes thought for a moment they were about to strangle him for snapping earlier- but instead they covered his cheek with their palm, and squeezed gently.
Hermes just about melted into their hand, covering it up with his own to keep it there, and scooting closer with another pathetic noise of pain so he could hover his head over their chest. "I'm sorry, darling."
"I know." Tiresias picked up the tortoise shell and set it aside, then adjusted their legs and leaned against the ivory column, opening their lap up to him.
Hermes wasted no time collapsing into it.