It's 2:13 in the morning. Rain pounds at the logged roof and wind aspires to seep its soft, cutting fingers into anything that lives. It's cold outside, exactly eighteen degrees with a windchill of ten.
It's cold outside, but not here; in this cabin, in this bed, in this body.
"It's not what I thought it would be like." Percy muses, his voice reverberating through his chest and massaging her cheek as Hera lays on him.
"And what did you think it would be like?" Hera asks.
"I don't know, movies kind of leave that part out." Percy admits. "More… restraining, I guess. More urgent. I guess I just thought that I would know what to do when the time came, and my body would just move on its own. But it's not like that."
"No." Hera agrees. "Sex is a skill that must be developed, as you would swordsmanship or archery. But it's not about training how hard you can thrust or how long you can endure." She breathes through her nose deeply, inhaling his scent. "It's about the way you touch each other, the tone of your voice and the look in your eyes. Sex is a method of communication. It's a transference of feelings that are too deep to express through words."
"You're just trying to make me feel better." Percy mumbles. "I know I didn't do… great."
"Yes. Because I am ever known for bestowing pity on those in need." She rolls her eyes. "Might you put your pride to the side and listen to me?"
"Pride's out the window." Percy scoffs. "The Harpies took it. They're playing basketball with it right now."
"I, as horrifying as it is to admit, believe that you know me well enough to tell when I am lying." She blithely ignores his self pity, lifting her head to actually look at him. "So, I invite you to look me in my eyes, and search for any deceit, when I tell you you were nothing less than exceptional."
And he was, because above all else, he was genuine. Genuine in his desperation and genuine in his desire to please. She could feel it thrumming throughout his entire body; this pushing, pulsating demand. She tried with every inch of her body to reciprocate his response to her.
He perks up a bit at her words. Literally. She can feel his shoulders rise. "So, what were you trying to tell me, then?"
Hera smiles slightly at that. Silly boy. If she could simply convey through words everything she felt for him, they would not be in this bed together. "You tell me." She defers. "I trust that my message was well received."
"It was." Percy agrees. "You- You were telling me…" He bites his upper lip as he struggles to think. "I can't- I can't put it into words." He frowns in frustration. "Nothing I could say would really capture it."
Hera nods. "You understand, then." She says. "Words can only do so much. Sometimes, we must revert to more… primal methods. Let our body's speak for us."
Percy is silent for many moments. "Maybe…" He starts. "Maybe I don't feel good because I didn't say what I wanted to say." He says. "At least, not how I wanted to say it. Or, maybe I just want to say more."
Hera positively grins at that. "Then it is most fortunate that conversations can last for hours." She presses her forehead to his own. "So, my darling, won't you speak to me once more?"
Oh, and how he speaks to her.
It is 3:26 in the morning. The rain screams harder and the wind continues to howl. It is fifteen degrees outside with a windchill of seven. Music has started playing now, but she can't honestly remember when Percy had turned the stereo on.
"We may still have time, we might still get by. Every time I think about it, I wanna cry."
"You're very pretty, you know." She states, twirling one of his black curls around her finger as his head lays in her lap while her other hand massages his scalp.
"And you," Percy grunts. "Are very good at this."
"Try again." She flicks him in the temple.
"I meant gorgeous." He corrects immediately. "Beautiful. Stunning, really." He pauses momentarily. "I don't have a great vocabulary. Did I mention gorgeous?"
"With bombs and the devil, and the kids keep coming. No way to breathe easy, no time to be young."
"You did." Hera preens to herself, the smile on her face involuntary and unbreakable. "I would hear you say it again."
"You're gorgeous." Percy says breathily. This may be due to the amount of pressure she is currently pressing into his skin, but she chooses to believe that he's so taken with her that his lungs are spasming uncontrollably. "You're heaven-sent. You're… infinite."
"You're such a liar." And now it is her turn to be left breathless. "You say you have no vocabulary and yet, you say the loveliest things to me."
"But I tell myself that I'm doing alright. There's nothing left to do tonight, but go crazy on you!"
He laughs at that, but it's a sad one. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I think your standards are pretty skewed."
He's hit the nail right on the head with that observation. It had infuriated her once, drove her to the brink of madness with how little he'd had to do to have ensnared so. But not right now. Not with the rain's heavy footsteps beating down and not with the nape of his neck pressing against her thighs. She almost hopes that her standards remain this low, because it would be a wonderful thing to never be disappointed by whatever comes out of Percy Jackson's mouth.
"It's not such a bad thing, is it?" She asks. "After all, it led me to you. And though I might have been swayed by your flattery, I did not make it easy for you to draw me into your bed."
"My love is the evening breeze touching your skin. The gentle, sweet singing of leaves in the wind."
He laughs again, but this one is full of humor. "One of us was drawn into bed, and it wasn't you." He arches his back and smirks up at her. "And I think it's adorable and somewhat concerning that you think I planned this."
"Planned, no." She mirrors his smirk. "But vivid dreams are not contained to Morpheus' realm."
"The whisper that calls after you in the night, and kisses your ear in the early light."
She's bluffing. Whatever visions run through Percy's mind while he sleeps, Hera does not know. But she would like to.
His face pales to a comical shade of white. "Uh…" He mumbles eloquently. "Those are supposed to be… private."
Hera smiles widely. She knew it. She knew it. She clicks her tongue as her hands fall to his shoulders. "How improper, Percy, to have such unclean thoughts about a married woman." Her thumbs press into his trapezius muscles. "Whatever am I to do with such information?"
"And you don't need to wonder, you're doing fine. And, my love, the pleasure's mine."
Percy groans again, his feet flailing slightly. "You can't- You can't see all of my dreams, can you?" But he doesn't sound nervous now. No, he sounds excited.
"No, not all of them." Her fingers trail down to his triceps. "Will you tell me about them?"
He spins around suddenly, wearing a grin that she's never seen from him before. It's wolfish and omniscient and disconcerting in all of the best ways. But she only sees it but for a moment, before his smile disappears between her legs.
"I'd love to."
"Let me go crazy on you!"
It is 4:42 in the morning. The rain has softened to a drizzle, but the wind continues to be unrelenting. They sit up against the headstand, and though their shoulders only brush slightly against each other, it feels more intimate than words can describe.
"What's it like?" Percy asks, rolling the Apple around in his palm. "Being immortal?"
It's an easy question to answer. "Not very different from what you are now." She says. "There's just no end." And that was all. No special powers or benefits, just a guarantee to never be towed across the Styx by Charon.
"Then what would be the point of living?" His eyebrows are furrowed, looking deeply at the Apple, as if it might relinquish all of its secrets.
"You mean to say that death gives life meaning?" She tries to clarify.
"I guess so. It feels a little extreme to become literally endless to escape death." He shrugs. "At least it stops things from getting boring. There's only so many things you can see and do. Wouldn't all of it get so… tiring?"
"Perhaps." She concedes. "Or perhaps this world becomes tiring and wanting for a thousand years. And then you rediscover your passion and love for it in the next thousand years."
"I can't comprehend that." His face twists in confusion. "That length of time, feeling like that, any of it. There has to be something more, some deeper purpose or feeling to use this." He tosses the Apple from one hand to the other. "Some other calling than just to save yourself."
"And how many times have you been at death's door?" Hera asks. "How often have you felt Thanatos' wings beating gales across your skin?"
He is silent for a long while. "A lot." He finally answers. "More than I ever thought I could before it happened for real."
"Then relive one of those moments for me." She grabs his hand, knowing the task that she places upon him and hoping to steady him. "And tell me what you would not do for a few extra moments, even if those moments became eternal?"
"Okay." He says. "I get it, as a concept. But, still…" He starts throwing the Apple far above his head, catching it only to send it back up again. "It doesn't- It doesn't feel right. We aren't meant to live that long. It's unnatural."
"Then how can I be?" She questions, not rhetorically but genuinely asking to better understand him. She was mildly amazed by herself, as she can barely remember a time where every conversation was not about winning. "How can your father? You are surrounded by what you call unnatural, Percy, but it exists nonetheless."
"It doesn't make it any less unnatural, either." He counters. "And yeah, fine. Maybe there are gods and monsters and lions and tigers and bears, oh my!" His voice rises to a high falsetto at the end, and all she can do is stare in wonder at this strange, demented little demigod who holds her heart at ransom. "But they are what they are. They're meant to be what they're meant to be. Gods don't die and monsters always come back, but mortals and demigods have an expiration date. Messing with that, that's unnatural."
"I agree," She says, more than disappointed. It is unnatural and it is filthy and is unholy to raise someone so base to the peaks of immortality. But it doesn't matter when it comes to him. Nothing ever does. "With almost everything you said. I wish more than anything that you did not feel this way, however."
"Why?" And he seems almost amused, like he can see the words leave her mouth before they're truly spoken.
"Because I like talking to you." She says as she straddles him. The Apple falls to the floor, thumping against the floor panels and lazily rolling across the room. "I might like to do it forever."
"I'd run out of words." He mumbles into her neck as his hands fall to her hips.
"And?" She breathes against his ear. "You'll just have to make new ones for me."
"For you." He repeats, trailing his lips across her collarbone. "Everything's always for you, isn't it?"
"Of course." Hera says. "But right now, all I'm concerned with is you."
"Maybe…" And she's not sure if it's her body on his that gives him pause, or if he's just struggling to get the words out. "Maybe, if the time was right. If."
She understands that he's no longer flirting. She understands that he is not looking at her, but at the Apple that stands just beside the door. She understands what he has just said to her.
Her lips will bruise and her nails will break and every bit of her limitless energy will drain away before she can convey her thanks.
It doesn't matter if it doesn't happen. It doesn't matter that it won't happen. Again, she thinks, nothing ever matters when it comes to Percy Jackson.
Because he's given her a lovely dream.
It's 5:21 in the morning. The rain and wind have been vanquished, giving way to a warm, tranquil silence.
"Do you think of me when you're with him?" Percy asks.
"I don't think of you at all." Hera lies.
He laughs at that. No, he howls. And after a few seconds, she joins him.
Once, he would have believed her. Once, she would have even believed herself. But they're both too far gone to ever believe something as ludicrous as what she's just said, and the impossibility of it all only makes it that much more amusing.
She thinks to comment on it. On this. The absurdity of being in bed together, the gentle touches and the sweet nothings they give to each other. She thinks to put into words the absolute insanity of this new dimension she's found herself in.
But then his lips are on hers once again, and she finds that any other thoughts she might've had simply cease to be.
It is 6:30 in the morning. Apollo has broken over the sky in the east, and she can feel her time here is fleeting.
But there's always tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or fifteen minutes this afternoon, if Percy's free. Maybe thirty.
"Why don't you care about mortals?" Percy asks. They're sitting across each other now, cross-legged on the bed.
She leans back slightly, an invisible wall of oxygen supporting her. "Have you any care for the bacteria that crawls across your skin, or the ants beneath your feet?"
"I might if you keep comparing me to them."
She huffs at his impertinence. "We've discussed this, darling. You are not included with them." He merely rolls his eyes at her, as he too reclines back. Agree to disagree, then, she thinks. "And really, it's not that I don't care- that's much more extreme than reality. It's just that I am… indifferent on the subject of humanity."
Percy guffaws at that breathlessly, looking like he's choking on air. "That's so bullshit. You're not indifferent to anything. You're, like, the most opinionated person I've ever met."
"Lies." Hera dismisses. "Slander."
"Fact." He rebukes. "You like to argue. You can't do that if you don't have any strong convictions, so you- In classic Hera-fashion- choose to have strong convictions about everything."
"You're bullshit." She snaps out of embarrassment of being completely seen by him. "I cannot believe I ever used to think that you were slow."
"Words?" He holds his thumb down in front of him. "Math?" He blows a raspberry. "Basically anything useful? Forget about it." He waves his hand dramatically. "But, people? I know people. I told you the first time we met, I notice things."
"That's not useless. Your lack of self-confidence just tells you it is." She starts with the most important thing before moving on. "But like you said, you know people. I should not be included in that. I am more."
"Hera, you might be smokin' hot and sound like a dream I've never had before," Oh, gods, is she really blushing just from that? "But you have two eyes, a nose and a mouth. You look human enough, and that's all I need."
She frowns at that, feeling more than slighted. "Please stop comparing me to them."
Percy's smile drops in response. "See, that's what I'm talking about. You're not indifferent. You hate mortals."
"Because they don't do anything!" She all but cries. "They live and die, live and die, live and die, over and over and over again! And for what? To kill each other over petty squabbles and worship whatever statue they find most appealing? To waltz around for decades without purpose, only to spawn more beings of inadequacy? Or maybe, maybe," She feels crazed now, and her eyes are certainly glowing more than enough to be considered normal. "Maybe they do find purpose, only to piss it all away in the name of whatever currency is valuable at the time! They just don't make sense!" She finishes, breathing heavily.
"Why should they have to do anything?" Percy counters. "Why isn't living enough? Why isn't survival valuable?"
"No." Hera shuts him down quickly. "No, this is not about survival anymore. It's about who can own the biggest house or the fastest vehicle, or who can be on television the most. If it was about survival, there wouldn't be hundreds of thousands dying every day."
"That's just society." Percy argues. "And gods know I don't agree with it! Hades, nobody does! But it's never going to be perfect, Hera. Look how far they've come."
She scoffs at that. "A monkey could write Shakespeare given enough time. It does not make the creature a playwright. Just as building cities does not make humanity evolved."
"Okay. If everything's so broken, why don't you fix it?" And she knows he's speaking to all of the gods, not just her. "Why don't you make everything better?"
She sighs and puts her head in her hands. "The Ancient Laws." She mumbles through her fingertips, aware of just how pathetic of an excuse it is.
"Really?" He sounds almost amused. "You're going to pull that card?"
"It's true." She snaps in irritation. "When my siblings and I 'took over', as it were, from my father, it was decided that humanity would decide its own path." She scoffs again. "And what a marvelous job you've done. Prometheus gave you a head start and you still managed to fuck it all up."
"That's why you hate them." Percy looks as if he's experiencing a revelation of epic proportions. "Because you can't fix them."
She is silent for a long moment. "It wasn't always like this." She recalls wistfully. "There was a time where I would not have needed to fix anything, only offer a gentle, guiding hand." Her mouth twists in disgust. "But they have strayed so far, I can hardly recognize them. They might walk and talk as my priests and priestesses did, their souls have been stolen from them, and by their own will."
It's past seven in the morning now, and they both realize that she must go, but they can't seem to let this end so quickly.
"If you could start over," Percy asks quietly, hugging his knees to his chest. "What's the first thing you would do?"
It's not a question she's thought about for a long time, but the answer burns in her mind so brightly that it seems obvious.
"I would make them all like you."
Like always, she's not sure just how they end up in each other's arms, but it seems Percy's decided that he can have a late breakfast today.