A story dedicated to Apollo's Angel, who is one of my faithful readers. I hope you enjoy!


"Daphne, morphing into laurel, said,
'No thank you. I'd rather turn to wood if not to stone.'

Bolina, jumping into the surf, said,
'No thank you. I'd rather drown in Poseidon's parlor.'

Hestia, double-bolting the front door of her house, said,
'No thank you. I'd rather hide in my cellar and drink old wine.'

Cassandra, packing her crystals and incense into her bag, said,
'No thank you. I'd rather win my prizes alone.'

But Kyrene, pulling him close to her heart, said,
'Apollo, if you ever left me,
I'd rot like old wood,
I'd drown in an ocean of my own tears,
I'd go down to the Underworld and not be seen again,
And there would be few treasures in my life.
I want you to stay with me,
And share
An orchard, laden with ripe fruit,
A lake, sparkling with pure, blue water,
A home, filled with gladness and love,
And all the riches of Spirit'."

-Worthy of the Wait, Phoebe Lyra, 2002


Dirty Little Secret


Apollo was the very image of what most people see when they think of Greek gods. He was tall, slender, and beautiful. He had pale golden curls that always laid just the way he wanted them to. His ivory skin had never had a blemish and his eyes resembled large sapphires. And as if that wasn't enough, he was also extraordinarily talented; more often than not he excelled in everything he attempted to do. He was a gifted archer; his arrows were unerring, as were the prophecies that fell from his perfectly sculpted lips.

Anyone who looked in on Apollo's life would undoubtedly say that the god had it all.

But he also had a secret – of sorts.

It was only a secret from the one person it concerned. His entire family was aware of his secret; he had been harboring it for the majority of his long life. His aunts and sisters pressured him to reveal it to the last person who remained unaware, and his uncles and brothers remained silent, sympathizing from afar.

He had spent decades, then centuries, and finally millennia fighting an internal battle and struggling to overcome his feelings. Perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult if he could understand why he felt the way he did. After all, there was nothing particularly special about him. The person he loved with every fiber of his being.

He was strange. He was annoying. He was an imp.

He liked to laugh for reasons that no one understood. He pulled pranks on anyone and everyone. More often than not, Apollo would wake up to find all of his clothes missing. His wicked smile never left his face. It was very unnerving.

There was nothing extraordinary about his appearance, either. His nose was small and slightly upturned. His chin was pointy. His eyes were too large for such a small face.

But his bright green eyes never ceased to sparkle, and his jet-black hair was lustrous and looked to be as soft as the finest silk. Despite all of his trickery, he was unquestionably loyal to his friends and family. It was these things that made Apollo burn with the need to hold him, to plant kisses all over his delicate face…

And it was that need that Apollo strived to conceal by whatever means that he deemed necessary.

Fortunately, it wasn't difficult to deceive the object of his desire. After all, they were polar opposites. He was a thief, and all of Apollo's beliefs were based on honesty. He was impulsive, whereas Apollo didn't do anything without first thinking it over. He was irrational and often unreasonable, and Apollo – well, he wasn't always rational, but he was usually reasonable. He was short, dark, loud, and rash. Apollo was tall, blonde, slender, and stoic. They couldn't agree on anything.

What proved to be more challenging was the task of alienating the man he had eyes for. He was nothing if not persistent, and he seemed to pop up around every corner that Apollo turned.

Despite their differences, Apollo continued to watch him from afar. It was becoming harder and harder to control his passion, and increasingly more difficult to avoid him.

After all, there wasn't a single person alive that could elude Hermes, the herald of the gods.


Apollo was a very busy god, but he always made time go on long walks each day. That was what he was doing one sunny afternoon when he happened to pass Hermes, who was throwing discus. Apollo saw an opportunity to keep up the façade of disliking the messenger.

Hermes, completely unaware of Apollo's presence, was just getting ready to release the stone disc when the blonde spoke up. "You spend far too much time playing sports, young one."

Apollo watched with hidden amusement as Hermes dropped the discus. It landed on the ground with a thud. "Huh?"

"You should use your time more wisely. Why not study the mysteries of the universe, or the people who live in it?" He meant the words he spoke; Hermes had a brilliant mind that, if put to good use, could undoubtedly shed light on some of life's mysteries.

Hermes was staring at Apollo with something akin to shock. Apollo stared back, fighting the urge to admire the lithe body of the younger god. "I barely have any free time," the messenger finally said, placing a hand on his hip. "And when I do, I like to spend it doing things I enjoy."

"I understand that," Apollo heard himself say. He tore his eyes away from the sight of glistening sweat on Hermes' exposed skin. "But you should spread things out. Meden agan."

Meden agan meant 'nothing in excess'. It was a phrase that Apollo had coined himself.

"If you say that again, I'm going to carve that phrase into your forehead," Hermes threatened.

Apollo's lips twisted into a smile. He knew that Hermes didn't have a violent bone in his body, and said as much. "You aren't a violent deity. And if you believe you are, then you are fooling yourself. Gnothi seauton."

That particular phrase meant "Know thyself". Apollo liked to say it even more than meden agan.

Apollo turned and left before he gave in to the urge to pounce on the messenger.


Apollo knew that Hermes often watched him for no particular reason. His stare was both unsettling and rather erotic. His dark eyebrows would furrow and his eyes would glaze over. It took a while for Apollo to realize that Hermes wasn't staring at him but at his hair.

Apollo decided that something had to be done.

"Would you stop staring at my hair?" Apollo snapped one day.

"Sorry," Hermes muttered, not tearing his eyes away from the golden tresses. "There's just something about it that grabs my attention."

Apollo wasn't sure if he should be flattered or insulted. He decided to be flattered but didn't let it show. Instead, he sighed. "The entire universe is at the tips of your fingers, but my hair is what you decide to focus your attention on."

Hermes shrugged and smiled. Apollo thought that the messenger had never looked so adorable and enticing. "Shouldn't you feel honored that I decide to look at your hair instead of uncover the mysteries of the universe?"

The situation was getting out of hand. Apollo swallowed and forced himself to spit out the necessary words. "Honored?" he snorted, doing his best to sound disgusted. "I think not. More like disappointed that a god would waste his time staring at my head."

Hermes flinched, and for a split second, Apollo hated himself.

"You can hardly say that I waste my time, Apollon," Hermes said. It was clear that he was struggling to keep his voice steady. "I deliver your messages and make sure that the souls of the dead get to Hades. What do you do with your time? Sing to the trees and pine after beautiful nymphs who reject your offer of love?" Before Apollo could say anything, Hermes jumped to his feet and stormed from the room. Apollo swallowed again, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. Being so cold to Hermes hurt more than he cared to admit. It was in his nature to protect the people he loved, to cry when they cried and to wipe their tears away. He hated knowing that he could never do such a thing for the person that he loved the most.


Sometimes Apollo hated being the god of healing. He especially despised it when it involved small children. In his opinion, there was nothing worse than seeing a helpless child linger between life and death.

That's what he was seeing right now; he was answering a prayer to help a dying child who was a victim of pneumonia. Apollo was standing by the sickbed, having just finished bathing the boy with rosemary water. He was now applying a special poultice to the child's chest while the parents looked on with hopeful expressions. The room smelled strongly of onion and mustard seed, two main ingredients in the remedy.

"Will he be alright?" the anxious mother asked, wringing her hands. Apollo nodded. When he had secured the poultice with a bandage, he wiped his hands on a towel and handed the jar with the medicine to the woman. "Apply this to his chest three times a day. Have him drink strong tea made from root of ginger. He'll get better soon."

The relief was visible on both of the parents' faces. The woman took both of Apollo's hands in her own, grasping them tightly. "I can't thank you enough for your kindness."

When she attempted to press a small bag of coins into his hands, he shook his head firmly and backed away. "I require no payment."

After exchanging small talk with the rest of the family, Apollo began to make his way towards the door. "May the gods be with you!" the woman called after him.

Irony had to be one of life's greatest joys, Apollo thought. He shot a smile over his shoulder before leaving the house.

He had been feeling a very familiar presence for the past several moments, so it was no surprise when Hermes popped into existence directly in front of him. "Hail Apollon, the god of healing!" the messenger said in his usual loud voice. His impish grin stretched from ear to ear. "Nice disguise, by the way."

The blonde eyed him, wondering how he had managed to fall in love with such an obnoxious god. "You know what?" he said, brushing past the messenger and continuing to walk forward.

"Hm?"

"I think I like you better when you're invisible."

There was a moment of silence, during which Apollo was very glad that he couldn't see the look on the younger god's face. Then he heard the sound of beating wings, and Hermes once again appeared in front of him. Apollo scowled, annoyed once more at the brat's persistence.

"Why's that?" Hermes asked, looking every bit like the imp he was. "Can't resist looking at my body?"

Apollo raised an eyebrow. He couldn't hide his amusement at the fact that Hermes had managed to guess correctly – and the messenger had no idea. "I think I have better things to do besides look at your scrawny body."

"You don't have any room to insult me; not when you look like that," he said, referring to Apollo's disguise.

Apollo glanced down, sighed, and shifted back to his normal self.

"I just don't understand," Hermes said, his voice so soft that Apollo had to strain to hear him.

"Understand what?"

"How you could be so nice to that family, and then be so rude to me."

Apollo blinked. What did that have to do with anything? He gave a mental shrug and decided to go along with it.

"I'm not being rude. I'm treating you like the annoying brat you are."

"Mhm – Some people would call that rude. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I think what you did for that little boy was great. I wish I could help people like that."

Whatever Apollo had been expecting Hermes to say, it most certainly hadn't been that. "Thank you," he heard himself say. The look of shock on Hermes' face made Apollo smile in amusement. "You don't have to look so shocked. It's only fair to thank someone when they compliment you."

"I guess," Hermes muttered, and then in a louder voice asked, "What was wrong with him, anyway?"

"Pneumonia," Apollo responded. Unfortunately, pneumonia, which meant 'disease of the lungs' in Greek, almost always killed the children it affected.


"What is the matter with you?!" Athena demanded of Apollo late one afternoon. Apollo was sitting on his bed with a papyrus scroll, reading some of his favorite poems. He glanced up at his older sister, who was standing at the foot of his bed, glaring at him with her gray eyes.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Athene."

She huffed, if possible looking more indignant than before. "I'm sick and tired of watching you pine after Hermes. It's been going on for too long. You need to tell him – Ah ah!" She waved a threatening finger at her brother when he opened his mouth to argue. "I don't want to hear your excuses. You need to tell him, because he is desperately in love with you, and this game you have of pretending like you hate him is hurting him."

Apollo's eyes widened. "What –"

"No!" Athena shouted, cutting him off once more. "You heard what I said. There's nothing of importance that you could say to me. Now go! He's in his room."

Knowing that it would be pointless to try and talk to her, Apollo jumped to his feet and ran out of his room.


He found Hermes laying face-down on his bed. Apollo pursed his lips at the sight, angry at himself for being the one to upset his beloved. He sat down on the end of the bed.

Hermes shifted and growled. "Go away, Athena."

Apollo ignored the words, instead reaching over to pull off the messenger's winged sandals and then the winged cap. He set them by the side of the bed and then began to comb his fingers through Hermes' dark hair in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Then he slid his hands down farther, trying to massage the tension out of the other god's neck.

Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect. He felt Hermes stiffen beneath his hands. Then the brunette sat up, looking more shocked than Apollo had ever seen him. He gaped for several seconds before squeaking, "Apollo?!"

They stared at each other, and when it became clear that Hermes wasn't going to say anything else, Apollo sighed. "Must you always be so difficult?"

"What do you mean?"

Apollo pursed his lips. "You ruined my plans. I tried so hard to stay away from you – to make you hate me and to try and make myself hate you. But you kept clawing your way back into my life, following me around like one of Artemis's dogs—"

"You aren't making any sense," Hermes said, sounding very much like he had just run a marathon.

Apollo made a face. "Isn't it obvious? From the moment I saw you, I was taken with you. 'This little imp,' I thought to myself. 'Surely he is the only one with enough wit and courage to steal my cattle. And then you grew up," Apollo went on. "And my feelings grew, as well. It wasn't just simple affection anymore. You grew into such a beautiful young god –"

"Me? Beautiful?" Hermes said, and Apollo smiled sadly at the incredulousness in his voice. "Yes. And you are the only person – mortal or immortal – that could ever get under my skin. I suppose I respect you for that."

Apollo watched as Hermes took a deep breath. "So what are you saying? You can't resist my body or my wit?"

Leave it to him to use humor as a defense mechanism.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Apollo said quietly. His head was whirling with thoughts. Hermes was sitting there with the most kissable lips he had ever seen, and eyes greener than emeralds, and without knowing what he was doing, he began to lean forward.

Those green eyes widened, and Apollo let out a soft laugh.

When their lips met, it was like the entire palace exploded around the two gods. The brunette's lips were soft and tasted faintly of strawberries. Hermes made a small sound, and Apollo felt his hands grip the front of his tunic.

Neither of them saw Athena peek through the doorway with a huge smile on her face.

The kiss wasn't long, but Hermes still found himself gasping for air the moment Apollo pulled away. Apollo looked at the hyperventilating messenger with a worried expression. "Are you alright? Was that not okay?"

"No," Hermes gasped. "It wasn't 'okay'. It was perfect." He still had a death grip on Apollo's shirt.

When his breathing was finally under control, he looked up at the archer with wide green eyes. "I thought you hated me," he whispered.

"I wanted to hate you," the archer whispered back. "I wanted to hate everything about you. But I couldn't help loving you." He let out a bark of laughter. "How could I not love you? You're perfect, Ermis. The music you play is more beautiful than mine. You find humor in every situation. You're incredibly clever. You make me laugh." He paused and sighed. "It tore me apart to have to keep you my dirty little secret."

Hermes' lips turned downward in a small frown. "Why did you do that? Why didn't you tell me how you felt?"

It was a valid question. Apollo chewed on the corner of his lip, trying to think of a way to answer it. "I've never had much luck with my love life. It seems like every person I've ever had a relationship with ended up hating me. I didn't want you to hate me, too.

"But then," Apollo continued his story. "Athena found me and said that you were upset." His sapphire eyes softened. "When you're in pain, so am I. I decided that this dance had gone on for long enough. Well, actually, Athena decided this dance had gone on for long enough." He paused, and then in a soft, pained voice, whispered, "You weren't supposed to fall for me."

Hermes shook his head. "How could anyone not fall for you, Apollon?"

Apollo shrugged, lowering his eyes. "If everyone I loved returned my feelings, I would be happily married by now."

"I'm glad you're not," Hermes assured him.

Apollo smiled and pulled the smaller god into his arms. Curly black hair mixed with wavy blonde tresses.

After a few minutes, though, Hermes began to struggle. "Um, Apollo?"

"Mm?"

"You are way too warm." He wriggled out of the older god's arms and wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead. "That can't be normal."

The blonde shrugged, the corners of his lips turning up in a smile. "I've been like that ever since Father made me start driving the sun. I suppose it's a side effect."

Hermes groaned, throwing himself back onto the bed in a dramatic show. "Great! Whenever we sleep together, I'm going to walk away with third degree burns."

Apollo bit his lip to keep from laughing. He leaned over Hermes with a cocked eyebrow. "I think you might be exaggerating just a little. Oh, and by the way…"

"Yes?" Hermes pressed.

"When I'm through with you, you won't be able to walk away."

"Um…should I be scared? Or are you just really ambitious?"

Apollo thought about that for a moment. "Hmm. Maybe a little bit of both."

Hermes sat up, grinning widely. "Excellent. Let's test out that theory of yours, shall we?"

Apollo had to fight back the stirring of lust he felt at Hermes' offer. "As much as I would love to, the council is meeting in fifteen minutes."

"So? I miss Council all the time. And besides, in fifteen minutes we could do it twice."

Apollo snorted with laughter. "Now look who's being ambitious."

"Not ambitious. Just – um – impulsive."

Apollo shook his head and stood up. "Well, impulsive or not, we aren't missing the meeting." He picked up Hermes, swinging the smaller god over his shoulder and beginning to walk towards the meeting room.

"Mhm," he heard the messenger say. "This isn't compromising at all. Doesn't the rest of the pantheon still think you hate me?"

"They've always known I love you."

"What?" the messenger demanded, squirming around in his attempt to face the archer. "You mean this whole time, I'm the only one who thought you hated me?"

"If it makes you feel any better, our uncles and brothers actually do hate you."

"Yeah, that makes me feel a lot better. Thanks so much," Hermes muttered.

When they arrived at the meeting room, Apollo dropped Hermes onto his throne before taking his own seat. They were the first to arrive, so Apollo leaned towards Hermes and whispered in his ear, "I promise that after the meeting, I'll make you forget you were ever upset with me."

"Twice?" Hermes asked hopefully.

Apollo smiled and nodded. "Anything you want."


A/N: The lemon can be found on my website. The link is on my profile!