Octavian's P.O.V.
He woke up screaming, Augustus tucked into his hands. When he realized he was no longer in immediate danger he relaxed, and examined his new surroundings. The strangest thing was the man sitting in the corner reading a pamphlet on exciting attractions in the area.
Apollo. Greek or Roman? He didn't know, didn't care. He hated him the second he saw him. Apollo'd never done anything good for him. Except, he realized now, saved his life. Still, he couldn't fake gratitude or force humility as he'd done with the Greeks. He was angry and barely holding it all in.
Rachel sat next to him and set a hand on his shoulder.
"Thank you." She whispered, her voice too low for Apollo to overhear. He looked at her, his blue eyes confused and drowsy.
"What?" He croaked out.
"Thank you for trying to protect me. And for making me laugh." His eyes filled with tears. Rarely had he ever been thanked, and for something so small as making a joke... He had made her happy. That was rare too. Not only had he made someone happy, he made someone he deeply cared about and loved happy. He would have died for her. He almost had. And because of her he was glad he hadn't. He wanted to spend his life with her.
If they survived.
He grumbled a thank you for Apollo and the deity disappeared. Rachel seemed to relax.
"You want some free coffee? Or an apple I stole from the complimentary breakfast area?" She asks. He nodded weakly, sitting up. He ate the apple and took some coffee.
"Thank you." He told her vehemently.
"Rachel you mean so much to me." The coffee fueled him and made him feel a lot better. His eyes brightened and the tears stopped. Well, for him. But they didn't for Rachel, hers had just begun. He reached his long, cut covered fingers and wiping her tears. She smiled at him and he filled up with happiness.
"Octavian," she whispered.
"I don't know how I feel." He shuddered and sighed.
"I know. I know... I'm... I'm okay with that." He was. He really was. He never expected anyone to love him. It was a miracle that someone got close. He never expected to love anyone else. He'd been so protective, trying so hard not to get hurt after a past where the only thing he did was hurt. But now he accepted it. She would never try to hurt him on purpose. And he could handle the occasional accident.
"Rachel, it doesn't matter what you have or haven't figured out. I just want one thing right now, and forgive me if I overstep my bounds. Can you..." He trailed off, fearing rejection.
"Can you hold me?" He finally asked, his voice breaking.
And they sat like that, her, holding him, stroking his hair and making him overflow with timid joy, all afternoon. When Night finally fell and she pulled away to turn on a light he finally noticed their surroundings, and in mere seconds he was falling out of bed.
"I'll-I'll sleep on the chair." He insisted, grabbing a pillow and making himself comfortable in the stiff arm rest. He didn't expect a battle to ensue because of that, but chivalry, he soon learned, was not always the best option.