Judo and Chess.
It's a bit not good to have a god have two children with the same mortal. It's even less good to have two different gods have children with the same mortal.
'Fuck it', Hermes thought. He always liked breaking rules.
Meryl Holmes was sneaky, and smart, and cunning. He snuck into the office to leave a note for her from Athena concerning the political path of her son, who was ten or so, and had found himself being judo-flipped. It turned out Meryl had stayed in the office late for paperwork, had martial arts training, and he had walked right into her, and been flipped on his rear.
Staring up at her stern face from the floor, upside down, with a sharp pain in his lower back, he thought he had never seen anything more beautiful.
Their relationship was a month-long battle of wits. She knew who he was, even if she hadn't fully accepted the reality of gods, as he had no power in Cheshire, where she was staying.
In her mind, it was a game of chess. In his, it was a game of double solitaire. In the end both of them lost—she had his son, but never became enamored with the god, and had insisted he stay away from both her sons.
'Can't win 'em all', Hermes mused. He looked like a jogger today, stopping by a crime scene to observe the police, the dead man, and the tall detective who pickpocketed the inspector.
.
.