Rules and Pink Ribbons
I obviously don't own Greek Mythology.
Characters: Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Eros and Apollo.
Pairing(s): HephaestusxAphrodite.
Summary: Sometimes, when she's in a state of boredom, Aphrodite is glad her husband has long hair. It gives them time to talk.
Rated: T for swearing and mentions of…things.
…
It was never a good sign when Aphrodite was bored. When Aphrodite was bored, it meant someone was going to have to deal with it. It wasn't a 'find a man and take him to bed' kind of bored either. It was just…bored. Boredom at its finest.
Ares was probably off doing some sort of violent thing that she wanted no part of, so that ticked him off the list. Besides, she didn't want to spend every waking moment with him, right? Right. Recently, he had taken to smoking cigarettes and did so as though he was afraid he'd die as soon as one burned out. The fucking awful smell of tobacco was almost too sickening. Besides, despite popular belief, she didn't spend every second fawning over him and having more of his children.
A thought struck her. Eros. Maybe he'd like to spend time with his mother. Out of all of her children, Eros was (don't tell the others this) her favourite and by far her most loyal companion. She didn't see much of Eros when Ares was around - the poor lad was terrified of his father, you see. Ares had tried to force him to fight his brothers, Deimos and Phobos, in an attempt to make him more like his dad. It had failed miserably, as Eros was not only very weak compared to his brothers but also a coward (by Ares's standards). Unluckily, for Aphrodite's favourite child, Ares had a very short temper. Eros had ran off in tears. Aphrodite had yelled at Ares for shouting at Eros like that and had followed him.
Only to find him being comforted by Hephaestus.
A weird little pang was felt in her chest as she thought of him. Hephaestus: her husband for centuries and younger brother of Ares. Aphrodite still lived with Hephaestus (although many wondered why; she never seemed to want anything to do with him…which wasn't entirely true) and - though perhaps a shock to everyone - did indeed share a bed with him. She blamed it on his warmth. As the God of Fire, Hephaestus naturally heated his body to however he saw fit. It was like laying next to an open fire, just without the annoying crackling and chance of hurting oneself.
Eros liked him enough, no doubt more than his biological father. Because Hephaestus lived with her, he had taken a big part in his nephew's upbringing, even if he hadn't entirely wanted to. He wouldn't look at her after he found out about the affair and the quietness only intensified when he was informed of her pregnancy. During that time, he had acted as though she didn't exist. Any looks she accidentally received were sad. She hated that; how he looked at her with sadness. He wasn't supposed to look at her like that. That wasn't how other men looked at her, damn it. What gave him the right to be any different?
Aphrodite tried not to think about it as she sat in a little room in she and her husband's large house. It was almost bare, save for the table and chair she sat at and the desk with only some of her husband's tools piled on top. The Goddess of Love huffed, blowing some of her wavy hair out of her face. Damn boredom. If she had the power, she would eradicate it completely. So…boredom would never exist. Why not, right? After all, who actually enjoyed boredom? No one! It was dumb and stupid and lame and -
The door opening silenced her thoughts and - oh, speak of the devil. In limped her husband himself. She watched him as he walked over to the desk with the tools, opened up the little toolbox and began fiddling with the little screwdrivers inside. She almost felt insulted - not one look at her. Like she wasn't even there. Maybe he was just distracted; he was a big fan of machines and such. Perhaps he had plans to build something. It's what he did, right?
Aphrodite watched him, waiting for him to notice the other presence in the room. The blacksmith was strangely good at that; she blamed it on his good sense of hearing. She found her nose wrinkling as the smell of him got to her. He was wearing his grey overalls, the ones splattered and stained with grease; the smell of oil clinging to them. She supposed she should be used to it by now, he was forever smelling like snuffed out candles and oil. It was just his natural scent now.
Well, she supposed she was going to have to get out of this funk sometime, so perhaps… "Hephaestus."
…No response. He still kept moving the screwdrivers around (apparently trying to find a certain one, though they were all the same to her). She frowned. "Hephaestus."
At that added authority, Hephaestus jolted. He turned to her now and they stared at each other in silence.
He wasn't much of a looker, but he wasn't hideous. While the other Gods had perfect heads - rounded, proper chins, human-like - Hephaestus's was like an upside-down teardrop. His eyes were large, the left one always half-closed, and a full mane of dark brown hair rested on top of his head, parted on the left side. He used to have a beard, but Aphrodite had convinced him to shave it off because, quite frankly, it looked stupid (although, by the looks of it, Hephaestus hadn't shaved in a while).
Aphrodite swallowed almost nervously. While she knew she and Hephaestus could talk normally, have civil conversations, she had wanted him to talk first. Now she was at a loss. While she contemplated, Hephaestus tilted his head curiously. Since when did Aphrodite want anything to do with him?
At last, Aphrodite found something to talk about, "…What're you doing?"
Hephaestus stared for a second before realizing he was being rude, then gestured to the toolbox.
"Trying to find something?"
"…Cleaning."
Aphrodite's eyes widened. Of course she had heard it before, but Hephaestus's voice was soft (contrary to popular belief in the Human World, where they thought he had some deep, booming voice) and almost always sounded miserable. Only once or twice had Aphrodite ever heard even the slightest amount of excitement in it - and that was when Zeus said Hephaestus could make his lightning bolts for a week. Those were the days where she never saw even a glance of him, for he had some strange obsession with making Zeus's lightning bolts. They were probably his favourite things to make and he always seemed more miserable when Zeus told him the task would go back to the Cyclopes.
Aphrodite raised an eyebrow at her husband's words, "Cleaning?" Since when did Hephaestus ever clean his workspace?
Hephaestus nodded, "Y-Yes. Screwdrivers first…Putting them in order…"
Aphrodite's brow furrowed. This didn't sound like the kind of thing she'd be interested in and she certainly didn't think she was acting like herself by doing this, "How?"
Hephaestus tilted his head, "Hm?"
"How're you ordering them?"
Hephaestus looked weary of her, "…Smallest to largest."
"Oh."
They were plunged into silence again. Aphrodite leaned back in her chair as Hephaestus turned back to his toolbox, assuming the conversation was over. Aphrodite pouted. Why wasn't he paying more attention to her? When she started a talk with a man, he wouldn't just turn away like that! He would wait until she said the conversation was over! "So…" She started up again. Hephaestus didn't react, though she had a feeling he was listening, "what are you going to make afterwards?"
"Jewellery."
"Jewellery?!" Aphrodite sat up in her chair. She had always appreciated Hephaestus's creations and it'd been weeks since he had last made her something!
"For Mother."
Oh. Her heart flopped. Jewellery for Hera. Aphrodite was aware that, despite their past together, Hephaestus still had respect (maybe even love) for his mother and occasionally made her random pieces of jewellery. Zeus never really appreciated the man turning up out of the blue just to present the queen with a box full of jewels on a golden chain. Maybe Zeus really did resent Hephaestus; his feelings toward the blacksmith were - Aphrodite suspected - rather similar to Hera's feelings for Zeus's bastard children. Hera had produced Hephaestus asexually, causing quite a stir between herself and Zeus, for she had told him the child was his while she was pregnant, revealing the truth only after she had tossed the small baby from Mount Olympus's side.
"Oh." Aphrodite muttered, sitting back in her chair. Hephaestus continued tinkering with the tools in his box while she frowned at his back. Where was her jewellery? "And…what will you be making after that…?"
Please be her jewellery, please be her jewellery…
Hephaestus tilted his head up as he thought about it, then shrugged, "Not sure."
"Oh." Aphrodite crossed her arms to make herself seem of higher status, "Then you can make me a new necklace." She ordered.
"Okay."
…That was it?
"Well…good. That's what I wanted you to do." Aphrodite said, fully aware of how awkward she sounded. Hephaestus nodded. Aphrodite's frown deepened. That was it? No other reaction? This was getting tiresome.
Aphrodite glared at his back, daring him to talk again, but he didn't. This shouldn't have bothered her so much, but it did. If there was anyone she should wrapped around her little finger with all the other men, it was her own frigging husband.
"Is…is there anything specific?"
Aphrodite looked over at him, "W-What?"
"Your necklace. Is there…anything specific you wanted?"
She noticed he was now holding a small notebook and a pencil, hand poised over the open pages as he awaited her answer.
Aphrodite stared, trying to form some sort of design in her mind, then shrugged, "What're you making Hera's from?"
"Silver. Mother enjoys silver. I think it's her favourite. And emeralds. It'll have emeralds."
"Oh. Well then…make mine gold." Hephaestus scribbled this down. "With diamonds. Lots of diamonds." Hephaestus wrote this down too then flipped the notebook shut and pushed it into his breast pocket.
"Okay." He turned from her again and began sorting through a different compartment of his toolbox: the one that held his screws.
This time, rather than glare at him, Aphrodite simply observed him. He strangely knew where everything was to be and he knew what order to place them - size, shape, colour, when he got them, when they were to be used. His movements were automatic, immediate, and would be perfect had it not been for the distant rattling of his prosthetic leg.
Aphrodite's heart numbed at the thought of it. Hephaestus's right leg was gone and the metal piece he had built to replace it was superb; could be mistaken for a real one if Hephaestus ever decided to wear that fake skin Apollo had offered him. Nobody ever spoke of how Hephaestus lost his leg nowadays, but Aphrodite still remembered the looks they had given her after the incident. Some blamed her, some blamed Ares, some blamed Hera, some blamed Zeus and the rest just thought Hephaestus had lost his mind. Apollo performed the operation to attach the prosthetic and was the only one who knew how to reattach it had it ever gotten broken or taken off, but that was rare. Hephaestus had built it to be indestructible.
Aphrodite's eyes fell upon his hair. Hephaestus had inherited his mother's hair (well, he didn't have a father to inherit anything from, so…) and, by another one of Aphrodite's suggestions, had grown it long. It hung as a ponytail on the back of his head, falling until it reached his back; just passed his shoulder blades. She frowned at it. Although nothing could be done about the rest of his body, Hephaestus's hair could've certainly used some work. It was limp and lifeless and…was that oil? Ugh. Aphrodite's nose scrunched up as she stared. Alright, so her husband wasn't perfect, but for Olympus's sake, you'd think he'd put in more effort as her husband!
Abruptly, she pushed her chair back and stood up, frowning at him. Hephaestus jumped as she did so, but did not turn. She huffed and stepped closer. Seeing her out of the corner of his eye, he turned to look down at her. It was alarming how much he towered over her; she barely reached his collarbone as she craned her neck slightly to look at him in the eye. Hephaestus was the fifth tallest of them all, beaten by Zeus (only by a little though), Poseidon, Hades and Demeter (the tallest of them all, even Hephaestus had to look up at her). He even towered over Ares, his own brother; older by several years, to the point that people sometimes asked them who was older ("What the fuck?! How the fuck do people think I'm younger than Heph?! I'm the older one, you fucking dumb bastards!"). His misshapen head and long legs gave him extra height, she knew, though there was no doubt in her mind he would still be very tall had he been born normal. People would've said he inherited Zeus's height gene had he even had the chance at inheriting anything from the man.
They stared at each other - Hephaestus confused, Aphrodite annoyed - until Aphrodite huffed and turned, walking toward the door. Before she reached it, however, she turned, jabbed a finger in his direction, and ordered - as though commanding a dog, "Stay."
He was about to remind her he wasn't a canine, but she had already left. His mouth shut automatically, his shoulders slumped and he stared at the door, awaiting his wife's return. He couldn't help but feel a little excited: this was the most amount of attention she had given him in weeks.
His excitement increased slightly when she returned with something in her arms. He couldn't see what it was, but it was pink. Before he could ask, or she could tell, she shoved three bottles and a tub into his hands. He caught them all before they could slip from his grasp (expertly catching the tub before it could hit the floor). He looked at them all, reading their labels. The tub read HAND CREAM, one of the bottles read BUBBLE BATH while the other two had SPRING FLOWERS and RASPBERRY AND POMEGRANATE written on them. Hephaestus looked to her confusedly. Aphrodite's arms were crossed over her chest and she frowned at him, "Take a bath, would you?" She waved a hand in front of her nose, "You reek of oil."
Hephaestus seemed surprised and, after taking an experimental whiff of his own wrist, apparently found nothing wrong with his scent as he looked back at her confusedly. Aphrodite continued, "And wash your hair too. Just…use the whole bottle, alright?" She turned, "Meet me in our chambers afterwards."
Hephaestus's brow furrowed, then he nodded slowly. Aphrodite walked from the room, followed slowly by Hephaestus, then they went their separate ways as Hephaestus went to the bathroom and Aphrodite went to the bedroom.
…
It was a pain in the arse that Hephaestus never cleaned that little room, for now she had dust and dirt on her lovely pink dress. She huffed and went to her wardrobe, pulling out a blue version of her previous gown. Before taking off her dress, she listened intently for any sounds. Off in the distance, she heard water splashing as her husband sat in the bathtub, hopefully beginning to clean himself with those products she'd given him. He would smell a bit girly, she supposed, but it was better than oil.
It was just the boredom making her do this, she told herself. She was so bored she was actually spending time with Hephaestus.
Yes. She was bored and he was right there.
She shed herself of the filthy pink dress (her favourite. Damn it, Hephaestus!) and stood there in her undergarments. As she picked up the blue dress, she heard a horrified gasp, the sound of skin against skin and the door slamming. Aphrodite turned. Maybe that was one of her children or one of Hephaestus's automatons (they had a similar reaction). Or maybe…
After she put the blue dress on - sleeveless, flowed down to her knees, hugged her in all the right ways - she turned and opened the door, only to see her husband standing there, back to her and hands over his eyes, muttering to himself. "Hephaestus…?"
Hephaestus turned to her, his eyes still covered by his large hands, "…Hm?"
"What're you doing…?"
"…I'm not looking, that's for sure."
Aphrodite raised an eyebrow as she stared at him, "Well…I'm dressed now, so…"
Hephaestus peeked between his fingers to see if she was telling the truth, then slowly lowered his hands. They stared at each other for a second, then Aphrodite stepped back and gestured to the room. Hephaestus swallowed and nodded, then stepped in with her. He stood there awkwardly as she shut the door and walked over to the bed. As she sat down on the bed, she looked him up-and-down.
They had a rule in this house: Hephaestus was not allowed to wear his overalls inside, in fear that grease and muck would get all over the furniture. When inside the house, Hephaestus tended to stroll around in clothes that made him look rather smart and formal. Right now, he had chosen to wear a crisp, white shirt and black slacks. The slacks were held up with black, elasticated braces that were hooked over his shoulders; forming a Y shape at the back. He wore no shoes, only a black sock on his left foot.
Aphrodite had never seen his left foot before; he always wore that sock to cover it up. She had tried to remove it of course, but - no matter what situation they were in - he would grab hold of the sock and pull it even further over his foot. Even when he was sleeping, he protected his foot from sight - and he always looked terrified whenever someone tried to get him to take the sock off.
They stared at each other in silence for a while, then Aphrodite patted the place in front of her. Hephaestus looked weary, unsure, then slowly walked over. He sat down on the edge of the bed until Aphrodite instructed him to sit further back. Then there he was, sitting cross-legged in front of her, staring at her. He tilted his head, "…I don't know what we're doing…"
"Well," Aphrodite said in the best authorized voice she could muster with him sitting so close, "you're going to face that way," Hephaestus turned so that his back was to her, "and I'm going to…" She trailed off as she picked up a hairbrush, took some of her husband's hair in the other hand and sent the brush through it.
Hephaestus jumped at the contact and quickly looked over his shoulder, "What're you doing?"
"Brushing your hair. What does it look like? Now, keep still."
Hephaestus stared at her, turned away and stared at the wall instead. Aphrodite continued her work, forcing the brush through her husband's brown locks. Hephaestus winced and jolted every time she encountered a knot (there seemed to be quite a few). Every so often, she heard him hiss or growl as her brush was sent through a particularly tangled area.
"Oh, don't be such a big baby." She said before she could stop herself. "Not even Eros complains this much."
"Eros does not have long hair."
"He's getting there, though. I think he's trying to grow it out like yours."
"…Really?"
"Mm-hm."
"…Oh…That's nice."
Aphrodite looked over at the door, where a mirror hung. In it, she could see she and Hephaestus's reflections. Her husband's face seemed full of mixed emotions - embarrassment, confusion, pride, - and she could've sworn she saw the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. She couldn't remember the last time she saw him smile - if she had ever seen him smile. Because of Hephaestus's never ending miserable facial expression, she never knew how he was feeling. She could've been annoying him then, but he was too nice and too well-mannered to tell her that. He didn't seem very angry, anyway. But how the hell was she supposed to know anything about him when he never freaking talked to her? He pretended she didn't exist most of the time and even when they were engaged in conversation, it was small responses accompanied by occasional glances and stares - and of course those glances and stares would never be positive; they'd always be sad or confused or angry or -
"Why don't you ever talk to me?"
Hephaestus was so surprised by the question, he visibly jumped and tried his best to look at her over his shoulder while she held the majority of his hair. "…Hm?"
"It's too quiet around here," Aphrodite said. She didn't look at him - it was too embarrassing that she was even talking to him like this. Why would she need his attention? Why would she want his attention? She didn't need - want - his attention; she had the attention of other men. "And you never talk. Why is that?"
Hephaestus didn't say anything for a while - she hadn't expected him to reply right away, that was wishful thinking on her part - and by then he had turned away from her again. She frowned deeply and purposely sent the brush through the, possibly, most tangled area. He winced and bit back a whimper. Just as she was prepared to do it again, he muttered, "…Would you like me to talk to you?"
Aphrodite looked up at him. She didn't know what to say. It was embarrassing, admitting this to him - to herself - that she actually wanted conversations with him. She shrugged her shoulders as a reply, because her words had failed her, and he added, "…What would you like to talk about?"
Aphrodite shrugged again. What could they talk about? They didn't have all that much in common so -
"Did you…did you have a nice day?"
Aphrodite's look turned into one of surprise. He was…he was trying. "Um. Yes."
"Oh…that's nice…"
"…Did you?"
"…Yes. But I broke a sword."
"…What?"
"It…It happens sometimes. When I get angry."
Aphrodite winced at that. The hidden accusation in his words might've been unintentional, she didn't know, but it still stung. "Oh, well…that's bad."
"I fixed it, though, so it's okay."
"Right. That's good."
Silence engulfs them again. She didn't dare tell him about her day. He already knew all about it.
Aphrodite hated how limited their conversations are. It wasn't like she did much talking with anyone, though, so - "I've been thinking."
Hephaestus glanced at her, "Hm?"
"I've been thinking about, um, about straightening my hair. What do you think?"
Hephaestus's eyebrows rose. She was…she was asking his opinion on something. She'd never done that before. "I think it's perfect the way it is."
Aphrodite hated him even more now - she felt herself grow warmer. "Oh. Thank you."
"You're welcome."
It was some time until they spoke again, and when they did, it made Aphrodite's heart stop. She heard Hephaestus sigh and then he said, "Does it get tiresome?"
"What?"
"Does it get tiresome?"
"What does?" Now she was really confused. Even when furious with her, Hephaestus never made mean comments, not even about her affairs.
"This."
"…Brushing your hair?"
"Pretending to tolerate me."
She was frozen, little knives digging into her skin, heart clenching. She didn't answer him. He continued.
"I know you hate me. I know you hate being married to me. I know I'll never be anything to you. I'm sorry you were pulled into all of this. I'm sorry for holding you back or keeping you down. I'm sorry for embarrassing you and making you feel awful and sad all the time. I'm sorry I'm not more like Ares. I'm sorry I don't - didn't - talk to you much…I just didn't know I was allowed to."
Aphrodite was still frozen long after Hephaestus finished because it finally hit her: he was scared.
The Gods had treated him like a servant all this time - ordering him around, not caring if he had time to build them things or not, sneering at him, not even thanking him for his work - that he had actually began to think that was what he was: their servant, not their fellow deity (although she knew Apollo sometimes visited him; she could hear his flute a mile away). He was scared of being out of line.
He didn't talk to her because he thought he wasn't allowed to.
He didn't look at her because he thought he wasn't allowed to.
He didn't stay around to look at her naked flesh earlier because he thought he wasn't allowed to.
He didn't hold her in bed because he thought he wasn't allowed to.
He didn't talk to her children (unless they talked to him first) because he thought he wasn't allowed to.
He didn't speak at all unless spoken to because he thought he wasn't allowed to.
Aphrodite finally got some of her senses back and she looked down at the mattress, pausing her brushing, "Why wouldn't you be allowed to?"
"…I don't know."
Aphrodite's brow furrowed. He knew. He just didn't want to tell her, "Did Ares say something?"
"No. I wouldn't listen to him even if he did."
"Well, you are allowed. You're my husband, you have automatic permission with these things."
"…You have nice skin."
Aphrodite paused, raised an eyebrow, "What?"
"You…you have nice skin…"
Was that a compliment?
"Sorry. That wasn't okay. It's just…earlier…"
"When you saw me changing?"
Hephaestus, surprisingly, began shaking. She didn't knew whether he was scared or embarrassed or whatever. "Y…Yes…"
"Well, thank you." Was that supposed to be some sort of innocent way of saying 'you look nice practically naked'? "I'm not mad about that, by the way."
"I should've knocked."
"It's your room too."
"No, it isn't. I'm going to move into a different one."
"…What?"
Hephaestus didn't seem to catch the surprise or any of the stinging pain she suddenly felt, "Give you your privacy. I doubt you like sleeping next to me anyway; I know I kick in my sleep and I wake up a lot too. You can have this room, I -" He was interrupted by his own yelp; Aphrodite yanked his hair roughly, pulling his head back.
They had rules in this house:
Hephaestus was not allowed to wear his overalls inside unless he really needed to.
Don't talk about affairs.
Leave Hephaestus alone when he was working; he needed to concentrate.
Leave Aphrodite alone when she was angry; she needed the time to herself.
Eat breakfast, lunch and dinner together. Don't necessarily have to stay for the entire meal.
After dinner, neither can leave the house unless they really had to. Stay inside.
Never EVER mention the names of the little bitches that had touched her husband in ways she hadn't (she was especially strict about this rule; she didn't know why).
Now they'd have to add another.
"You're not allowed to do that, Hephaestus." Aphrodite said to him as seriously as she could.
"…Oh. I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing to me."
"…Sorry."
"Stop!" She raised her voice at him and he winced.
Why was he apologizing? Why did he feel the need to apologize? Why wasn't she apologizing to him? She didn't know, she just knew that the thought of sleeping alone in this big bed - without him; without his warmth - made her feel terrible.
Another rule added:
Hephaestus wasn't allowed to sleep in any bed except he and Aphrodite's.
Wait. Maybe another…?
Aphrodite wasn't allowed to sleep in any bed except she and Hephaestus's.
Yeah. That sounded about right. That was another thing she never did that people thought she did: stick around. She always returned to Hephaestus by the end of the day. They had to eat dinner together, right? Part of the rules.
Aphrodite got the shock of her life when Hephaestus suddenly started giggling. Aphrodite stared at him like he had grown two heads and he slapped his hands over his mouth. "Heph…? Are you…laughing at me?"
Hephaestus shook his head quickly, "N-Not at y-you…"
"Then why are you laughing?"
Hephaestus turned to look at her properly. She gasped when she saw his smile; she'd never seen him smile. "Apollo-gizing." He burst into giggles again, turning from her and trying to keep them in by covering his mouth.
Aphrodite looked to the mirror to see Hephaestus's face. She'd never seen him so happy and so…like himself. Hephaestus really was just a big, scared child and, for once, he was actually having fun.
It was the worst joke she'd ever heard, but his laughter and joy was contagious and she was soon laughing with him. Neither ever thought they'd be like this: laughing together over some stupid joke, like friends, like best friends…
Like a married couple.
Aphrodite's gut began to hurt and she allowed herself to lean against her husband's back. As she did so, their laughter began to die down until only the smiles were left behind. Unconsciously, Aphrodite's hand moved to his shoulder and, after a few seconds, Hephaestus rested one of his large hands over hers. His hand was much bigger than hers, the callus skin still felt through the few layers of hand cream he had rubbed over it, and their hands looked strange together but she rather liked the difference.
Their smiles never dropped.
…
"And…just the finishing touch…" Aphrodite muttered as she worked away at her husband's hair. He was still sitting there patiently, feeling elated. "There!" Aphrodite finally let go of his hair and clapped her hands once as she observed her work. "Finished!"
Hephaestus turned and brought a hand around to grasp the braid his wife had twisted his hair into. He'd never had such a hairstyle before and the fact that Aphrodite had done it herself made all the more special. His hair was much better too; it wasn't greasy and lifeless, but rather soft and silky and smelt like spring. The 'finishing touch' - as Aphrodite had called it - was a bright pink ribbon, tied into a tight bow at the end of the braid to hold it all together. Hephaestus felt his heart flutter when he saw her smile, "…Thank you."
"Yes, well, it's easy with your hair. There's so much of it and -"
"Really, Aphrodite. Thanks."
Aphrodite looked at in surprise. She couldn't remember the last time he had said her name. She smiled at him, "You're welcome."
None of the other men she'd met allowed her to do this. The only thing on their brains was her body. But Hephaestus - of all people! - had actually allowed himself to be her little model during her time of boredom.
Aphrodite giggled, "Maybe I should've done it in pigtails."
"…I don't know what that is." Aphrodite demonstrated with her own hair and Hephaestus nodded slowly. "…I'm glad you didn't then."
That made Aphrodite giggle again. Her heart panged when she realized that this was it: his hair was done. There was no reason for him to sit around. When she realized he would probably leave in a second, she patted his knee and turned, "My turn then."
Hephaestus's eyes widened, his eyebrows raised, as Aphrodite waited for him. Hesitantly, he took hold of a lock of her hair in one hand. It was so soft under his touch, he would've like to have just sat there and held it all day. He rubbed his thumb over the lock he held, taking his time in caressing it. "I…I can't."
"Can't what?"
"Do this. Hair, it's…it's not a material I'm used to."
"If I can do it, you can do it."
"Yes, but…when it comes to hair and making one look beautiful, moulding relationships together…your craftsmanship skills surpass even my own."
Aphrodite turned to look at him at this point. There it was again: that look. It wasn't as sad as before, but it was still there. They stared at each other for a good few moments - cyan looking into rose and rose looking right back into cyan - until Hephaestus's lips were on hers.
The initial shock hit her first, though she didn't quite know what she was more shocked about: the fact that it was Hephaestus kissing her for the first time since their wedding or the fact that she was enjoying it - his soft and warm lips - and hoping that there was more to come.
However, just as she was getting her hopes up, Hephaestus pulled back quickly - suddenly - and looked absolutely horrified as he slapped his hands over his mouth. He lowered them a little to talk in a scared, quiet voice, "I…I'm not allowed to do that."
"Heph -"
"I'm not supposed to do that. I - I'm sorry, I -" He didn't finish because he leapt off of the bed and sprinted out of their room.
"Heph! Hephaestus!" Aphrodite called after him, but it was too late. He had already turned the corner. She wanted to lay down and think, but another noise stopped her.
"Ow! Oh, ouchies!" She heard a voice exclaim. She knew who that was in an instant.
"Eros." She heard Hephaestus say. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you there."
"Hephaestus! Oh, goodie, you're here!" (Aphrodite didn't mean to offend, but she could kind of see where Ares was coming from when he said Eros was 'wimpy, weak and girly'). "I was just looking for you!"
"I was…sleeping."
"Oh, well, that's nice! Anywho, I, um…I need you to fix this." Aphrodite didn't need to look to know what he was talking about. Eros had a horrible habit of snapping the arrows Hephaestus made for him; purely by accident of course. He was just so damn clumsy with the things! She heard Hephaestus grunt and Eros stuttered out, "I - I'm sorry! I didn't mean to break it! It - it just sort of snapped!" Aphrodite knew Eros was doing that thing where he tapped the ends of the arrow together in some attempt to get them to become one again.
Aphrodite had a feeling the two pieces were now in Hephaestus's grasp as Eros continued blabbing, "I was just practising, you see, and I shot an arrow. It flew off somewhere and I went to go get it - just in case it hit someone, you know! - and I tried to pull it out of the ground and it just snapped and -"
"Here you go."
There was a pause. "But…it was…"
"Try not to break it again, eh, lad? Let's…let's try keeping it to once a week…please."
"Oh, thank you, Hephaestus! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Aphrodite could only guess of course, but she knew her son well and, when he was this happy, he tended to hug people. By the sound of another grunt, that was exactly what he had done.
"Yes, well…I…I have to go now." She heard her husband's footsteps and Eros exclaim a "Goodbye, Hephaestus!". Soon after, Eros burst into the room, a large smile on his face.
"Mummy! Mummy! Mummy, look what Hephaestus did!" He waved the arrow at her. Eros looked like a little, male version of his mother - same smooth, pale skin; same wavy hair (though his reached only the base of his neck); same rosy eyes. Nothing of his father in there; she liked that about him. Eros zipped over to her and let her have a closer look, "Look, Mummy! It was in two pieces a second ago! I looked away for just a moment and he fixed it!"
"That's…that's nice, sweetie…"
"Uh-huh!" Eros peered at her curiously and, as to not arouse suspicion, she pulled him into her lap and held him close. It did nothing to stop his questions. "Mummy, why did Hephaestus look so scared? He looked scared. He wasn't really sleeping, was he? Mummy, did you two fight?"
"No, Eros."
"Then why does he look sad?"
"…He's fine, Eros."
Eros went silent for a second, looking down at his arrow, before speaking again, "His hair looked nice. He smelt good too."
"Mm-hm."
"And he was wearing one of your ribbons, Mummy. Why?"
"I let him."
"Oh. It looks nice."
Aphrodite smiled, then gently fingered her son's hair, "Hm. Let's see if I can do anything about yours."
Eros gasped happily, "Would you, Mummy?! Oh, thank you!"
…
There were several rules about Hephaestus's forge. His biggest pet peeve was people going in there without his permission or when he wasn't there. Hated that. One would always have to let him know they were there and await his permission to enter, otherwise they would have to keep outside.
Hephaestus looked up from his work as he heard a the sound of a flute being played. That was it: the sign he needed. "The door is open." He called as it got close enough for the person to hear. He heard the door open and shut and the sound of the flute continued until the person came into sight.
"Heya, Heph!"
"Hello, Apollo." Hephaestus muttered, giving him a nod. The God stepped away from his anvil and over to a little cupboard he kept in the corner, opened it and took out some of the food he kept in there. He handed Apollo the sandwich and turned away again.
"Whatcha workin' on, bud?"
"Father has allowed me to make his lightning bolts this week."
"Ah. Good for you!"
Hephaestus nodded. Apollo was the only God who visited him for the hell of it. He appreciated the visits, even if he didn't enjoy the pity. Their personalities were too different - Apollo being jolly and laughing all the time; Hephaestus barely speaking and keeping to himself. Hephaestus might as well consider Apollo his best friend.
"How's the ol' leg?" Apollo asked as he sat down at the table Hephaestus kept his completed blueprints on, turning in the chair so that his legs rested on the arm; stretched out, feet in the air. He was shorter than Ares, taller than Aphrodite and much shorter than Hephaestus. His eyes - gold-coloured, like two suns - found his friend as Hephaestus nodded.
"Fine. It's fine."
"Good, good. Man, you don't wanna be at the palace now."
"Why?"
"Ha, can't ya hear it?! Dad and Hera are havin' another tiff! Ya think ya'd be able to hear, good ears like yours."
"I…I can't say I was listening."
"Ha! You don't wanna! Should hear what Hera's sayin' about him! Ha! The ol' bird's going crazy!" He looked at Hephaestus, who gave him a hardened stare. Awkwardly, Apollo scratched the back of his head, where the littlest of ponytails resided. "Uh…sorry…That's uh…that's ya -"
"My mother you're speaking about, yes."
"Uh…sorry, man…"
"It's fine." Hephaestus turned away again.
Apollo began to unwrap his sandwich from the foil Hephaestus had put it in when he sniffed at the air, "…Aphrodite been in here recently?"
"No. She doesn't like it here. Says it's filthy."
"Hey, man, I don't blame 'er. Should clean up in 'ere."
"Why should I bother?"
Apollo shrugged, "Don't have to, I guess. You don't tell me how to run my life so I shouldn't tell ya how to run yours, I get it. But, hey, somethin' smells like spring in here and it ain't this sandwich (though, if it is, I'll get worried)."
Hephaestus limped over to the smaller man and offered an arm. Apollo looked at him, "Hm? What?" Hephaestus shook the offered arm gently and Apollo hesitantly leaned forward and sniffed, "Hey! It's you!" Hephaestus nodded and limped back over to his anvil, picking up his hammer and hitting the deformed bolt again. "Ha! What're you doing smelling like that?!"
"Aphrodite gave me some of her products to bathe myself with. I even used bath bombs."
Apollo gave an approving nod, "Oh, they're fun, they are. What she do that for?"
"I don't know. She wished to interact with me."
"Really?! Ha! That don't sound like her! Course, then again, I don't really associate myself with her much."
"…Why's that?"
"Oh, I dunno. She just doesn't seem like the type of gal I'd want as a friend. Your hair looks nice, by the way. Braided. Pink bow."
"Aphrodite did that for me too. I should return the ribbon."
"Hey, she wouldn't use it if she wanted to keep it that bad. Think it was a bit of a present for ya, Heph."
"…Oh." Hephaestus muttered thoughtfully.
Apollo closed his eyes as he shrugged, "Nah, see, I wouldn't know that either. Changes personalities a bit, don't she? Can't imagine what kinda wife she is if she's like that, heh!" Apollo sank his teeth into the sandwich. The bread was a bit tough, but it was made by Hephaestus.
"What're you talking about?"
Apollo's eyes opened, his teeth still in the bread. Hephaestus had stopped his hammering and was now looking over his shoulder at him with the same hardened glare he had used when Apollo spoke ill of his mother. Apollo made some undistinguished noise, muffled against the sandwich, and Hephaestus told him, with utter and complete honesty:
"She's the best wife in the world."
…
Author's note:
Started writing: 5/5/13
Finished writing: 5/10/13
I am a lazy bastard.
Well, not much to say, other than this is certainly not my best work. Kinda just a random thing I got the idea of when I imagined Aphrodite styling Hephaestus's hair (Heph has long hair in my opinion. You might think differently). It's now a sort of tradition for them, like 'only Aphrodite is allowed to style Hephaestus's hair'. He doesn't let anyone else do it, bless him.
I am incredibly tired right now, so there's probably, like, a million mistakes in here, but I will fix them when I'm more awake and have more energy.
I Apollo-gize for this, but thank you kindly for reading.