Chapter Text
Aphrodite really thinks he’s gotten away with it.
He should have known better, with his family.
“What do you want,” he spits out.
More than from the journey home, he’s drained from a very long talk with his- fuck, his sister. His boss, officially. Saori has been surprisingly open to keeping his secret. She’s probably a little jealous he gets to do that.
Or, well. That he tried.
But Himeros and Pothos are sitting primly in his kitchen, waiting for him. Security really is shit here. What were his colleagues doing, sleeping on the job?
“We are at your service,” Himeros says earnestly, his golden curls shaking with the emphasis of his speech.
“We have been waiting for you for so long,” Pothos adds, wide dark eyes fixed on Aphrodite with unnerving earnestness. He’s perched almost at the edge of the chair, the peeling green paint contrasting with his otherworldly perfection, the deep black hair and pale face.
“There’s nothing I need. You can go. Go… be free, get a life.”
Himeros stands up, his white tunic flowing like a sail catching the wind. “That’s not how it works!”
“Why not?” Aphrodite knows discussing with the personification of Desire and Longing currently occupying his kitchen isn’t going to get him anywhere. He still tries, because he’s tired and angry and he’s had so few choices in his life, and he’s not just going to let them make another one for him.
His question at least gives pause to Himeros, who sputters, indignant, but can’t come up with a response.
“And,” Aphrodite steps closer, “Don’t give me any of that ‘this is what we’ve always done’ crap. We changed the geography of Hades’ Kingdom last year, the status quo can suck my dick.”
He thinks he might be finally cracking under the tension, and Deathmask is pouring out through the cracks. After all, Deathmask is the person he’s learned to be human from - and what a spectacularly ridiculous idea that had been. Not that he’d known what he was doing when he’d arrived, memories carefully sealed away, and attached himself to that poorly socialised angry little boy.
Surprising even himself, he thinks of Andromeda. How had the boy managed to stay so incredibly decent despite… well, his entire life? And the whole Hades possession to boot.
Unfortunately, his reflections on the Bronze brat aren’t helping him get rid of the two minor gods standing between him and a nice cup of coffee and then maybe a sudoku in the garden.
Or he could just…
Decision taken, Aphrodite dives right into ignoring Himeros and Pothos.
*
“Phro…” Deathmask is standing stock still at the entrance of his quarters.
“Aw, shit, I forgot about them. They won’t leave, but they’re harmless.”
“Aphrodite.”
“What!”
“There are two gods in your living room!” Deathmask points at them with one hand, then curls up his fingers in a ‘what the hell’ gesture, “What do you mean they’re harmless! And why the hell are they here?”
Himeros, the more combative of the two, glowers at Deathmask. “We’re right here.”
“Yeah, that’s my problem.”
(Aphrodite loves him so much.)
“Don’t just talk over us!”
“Then explain yourselves,” Deathmask crosses his arms, waiting. Absolutely unimpressed with gods where they don’t belong. (To be fair, he is currently sleeping with one. He stopped being intimidated long ago.)
“We are her attendants. We are awaiting orders.”
Aphrodite’s temper flares. “I’ve given you orders: to leave.”
“But Great Aphrodite-
“The only great I am, is greatly annoyed,” he turns to Deathmask, “Your place? Mine is clearly…” he gestures towards the two divine siblings.
Deathmask shrugs, then puts an arm around Aphrodite’s waist and says cheekily: “Your wish is my command.”
Aphrodite snorts.
“Did you seduce me with your godly powers?” Deathmask asks.
If it were another situation, Aphrodite might be offended by the question, but Angelo is leaning against the headboard, smoking and looking well-fucked. He can’t be too worried about it if he waited this long to ask.
“You think you’re such a catch?”
Surprisingly, Deathmask just laughs it off. “Point taken.”
“You know we can still fight, right?”
Deathmask exhales a long plume of smoke and turns it into a rose. “What, think you bruised my fragile ego?”
Fine, it’s not like Deathmask had ever behaved even halfway decently even with gods, including their own boss. Or the previous boss while he was possessed by Ares.
Deathmask looks at him from the side and, in an uncharacteristic show of emotional honesty pulls him close. “I’m not gonna be scared of you now.”
It’s more than enough.
*
“Just out of curiosity, how was it being Hades?”
Okay, fine, he needs to work on his diplomatic skills. Not his fault he didn’t really have reason to use them before.
The poor Bronze nearly drops his cup. Then he narrows his big green eyes at him, and his pretty, childlike face gains a certain worrying intensity. “Why? Is something happening?”
“Professional curiosity.”
“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, Pisces. But it was not very nice to spring it on me like this.”
Aphrodite thinks he might be blushing. “Sorry. Indulge me.”
Andromeda sighs. “At first, I started dreaming of things I couldn’t possibly remember. Then, in time, I… I would do things without knowing why. It seemed normal in the moment, and then I realised I never actually decided to do or say that,” he looks straight at him, “It was terrifying.”
“You don’t think it was the same thing for Athena, do you?”
“Oh,” Andromeda cocks his head, “Are you worried about her?”
Assuming the best in others, even now. Seriously, how is this kid even real.
Aphrodite makes a non-committal noise which Andromeda takes as assent. “Hades is different from all the others. He needs certain things only a human can give him.”
A pure heart, Aphrodite knows. Not a problem he’s ever had.
“But Saori has always been Athena. She hasn’t always had all her memories, but it’s still her, you know?”
Aphrodite thanks him and steers the conversation away from that with, he thinks, a decent amount of grace.
It’s all fine until Cygnus requests entrance. He was visiting his old teacher, and now he’s come to pick up his boyfriend. It’s all very cute, really. They are also very in love. It’s… strange. Not them being in love, that’s perfectly understandable. It’s the fact that Aphrodite suddenly knows it like he knows he has fingers. Like it’s a knowable object in front of him, and also part of him. He nearly sways in place, but catches himself at the last moment. Aquarius shoots him a wary look from the top of the stairs, but that’s standard treatment.
“Bye, kids!” he says, hoping his voice sounds normal. The two groan at him, so it must be fine.
As he walks back inside, he nearly collides with Pothos.
He pinches the bridge of his nose and holds a hand out. “No.”
“But…”
“No.”
Himeros appears at his brother’s side. “You felt it too, Lady Aphrodite. You can’t deny it!”
Aphrodite is considering a trip to the underworld to go find the god-killing sword, when a familiar cosmo blazes to life, readying for a fight. Snowflakes coalesce in the warm air, and after a moment Aquarius steps in through the still-open door.
“Is everything-“ he starts, but once he sees the brothers, divine cosmo burning bright, he pivots immediately, already thinking of battle plans.
With a burst of power, he freezes both of them (it won’t hold them for long, but at least they’re quiet for now), then says. “I’m calling the others.”
“No!” Aphrodite stops him. “They’re not dangerous, just annoying.”
Aquarius raises one perfect eyebrow and gives him A Look. “Explain yourself,” he demands in a fantastic teacher voice, one that makes you want to obey and not disappoint him.
Aphrodite has never been a good student. “Were you… coming to help me?”
Aquarius huffs. “Don’t act so shocked, Pisces. It wouldn’t be the first time we fight side by side. Besides,” he looks towards Desire and Longing, still surrounded by ice, “The presence of intruders is concerning. So. Care to explain?”
“Not really.”
“It wasn’t really a question.”
Aphrodite pouts. It doesn’t help, obviously, but it makes him feel a little better.
Aquarius is too composed to be tapping his foot, but it’s a close thing. His aura is tapping its foot.
“Those are Himeros and Pothos.”
“And what are they doing in your house? And were they calling you Lady Aphrodite?”
Aphrodite looks up, trying to think of a non-insane way of explaining that he is, in fact, Aphrodite. He is saved by a shocked gasp and his colleague stepping back with a graceless clang of armour.
“Yeah,” he says sheepishly.
“How.”
“So, when Kronos cut off Uranus’ dick-
“Not that, you-“ Aquarius bites his tongue, cutting off whatever insult he was about to throw at him.
Aphrodite is amused. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”
“Should I be? What are your intentions?”
“My intentions? Oh, come off it, Aquarius. I’ve been here as long as you have. Longer, actually,” he remembers tiny Camus when he still hadn’t learned to hide just how feral he really was, “I’m as much of Saint as you are.”
He can see the other wanting to argue the last point, but Aphrodite has been atoning and dying for his sins for years now, so he won’t take any shit on that particular front.
“Athena is fine with it, anyway.”
“Why wouldn’t you…” Aquarius doesn’t even know how to ask, but Phro gets it. Deathmask had asked the same question at first.
“Would you want to run your own Sanctuary?”
“Oh gods, no!”
“You got your answer, then.”
“But you’re working for another goddess. Why?”
Aphrodite shrugs. “Why not. I got here by accident, didn’t have my memories until recently. And by that point I was used to all this.”
Once they manage to free themselves, Himeros and Pothos wisely decide to run away.
Now that Aquarius knows, there is someone else that can’t be left out.
Milo, bless him, bypasses all reasonable reactions, worries and doubts and goes straight for: “You started the trojan war!”
Deathmask bursts out laughing. “I never thought about that! What an asshole, babe.”
“I wouldn’t do that, now. Besides, it’s not like our glorious leader was innocent in that situation. She promised the little shit military victories, so,” he shrugs, “It’s not like picking her would have fixed anything. And I am prettier.”
“Ever so modest,” Milo ribs him.
“Well, it’s not like the goddess of beauty is gonna punish me for my hubris, now, is it?”
“You’re enjoying this far too much,” Deathmask says, “I can’t believe you wanted to keep it a secret.”
“I was going to! It’s not my fault the idiot brothers alerted Aquarius.”
“Yeah, were you going to just keep this from me?” Milo’s puppy eyes are still deadly, even though Phro’s witnessed them many times.
Aphrodite sighs. “Get off my case, I got my memories like last month! I would have told you, at some point.”
*
Aphrodite really thinks he’s gotten away with it, this time.
No such luck.
“Greetings, Aphrodite.”
Aw, shit.
“Hello, Peitho,” he takes a fortifying breath, “What brings you here on this fine evening?”
“You, of course,” she answers with a kind, delicate smile. She’s good, better than the brothers for sure, but Aphrodite still isn’t buying it.
“I’m not coming,” he says, already feeling at a disadvantage. He wishes he had Saga’s silver tongue, or Roshi’s wisdom, but it’s just little old him against Persuasion. Still, it will have to be enough.
She holds out her hands placatingly. “I’m not asking.”
“Mh,” he huffs, unconvinced, and walks into the house, knowing she’ll follow him.
He doesn’t take off the Pisces Cloth.
“I’m curious,” Peitho asks, looking around, dragging one finger along the rough wood grain of the kitchen table, “Why stay? Even if you don’t want to come with us.”
“I have a duty,” Aphrodite says. He licks his lips, uncomfortable. “One I haven’t always carried out. But I am making good on my oaths now.”
Don’t take me away. Don’t take me away.
She turns to him, surprised. “You know I don’t have the power to take you anywhere, my Lord.”
“Then why are you here?” he asks again, and this time he doesn’t bother trying to sound polite or non-threatening.
“I also have a duty.” She stares right at him, now. “You look very different. But we don’t get to change, not like they do.”
“You don’t know that,” Aphrodite hisses.
“Anchises.”
The pivot leaves him feeling wrong-footed. “What about him?”
“You loved him.”
“Many years ago.”
Peitho makes a gesture as if to dispel those words. “Not for us.”
Anchises had grown old and died. And so had their son.
“What, you think I’m scared of a little grief?” Aphrodite justs out his chin, defiant, “I’ve already lost the one I love in this life. I have lost everything before. And I’m not going to let it all go willingly, now that I have it back.”
“You will lose him again,” he thinks Peitho is trying to sound kind, compassionate, but it fails. (She is very much not human. He very much is.)
“Get out.”
“But my Lad-
“Out.”
The Cloth lights up with his cosmo, and if anyone else were to touch the golden surface now, they’d get burned. The very walls of the Pisces Temple start subtly glowing. Vines grow around the columns like enormous snakes, and their eyes are roses, red and white and black and purple.
“You want love?” he steps forward. Peitho steps back. “I will give you love. I love this place. It has taken me a lifetime to understand, and I won’t let you fuck it up now. I love the people here, even my asshole neighbour. We died together. You don’t know what that means.”
Since Aphrodite’s life is a cosmic joke, the neighbour in question has picked that exact moment to step in, once again alarmed by an aggressive cosmo and a sense of danger.
“Not a word, Aquarius,” he says without looking away from Peitho.
Unfortunately, she isn’t as meek and helpless as she likes to project. Aphrodite barely has the time to brace himself and shout a warning to Aquarius before they are nearly sent sprawling by the sheer force of her cosmo.
“You can’t turn your back on us,” her words are dripping with honey, still. But it’s no longer enough to disguise the bitter medicine, and Aphrodite feels like throwing up. “You are a goddess. Think of your place, of the honours due to you. You’d be worshipped.”
And then.
Sulfur smell. Screams. Aphrodite smiles as a portal opens up and Deathmask steps out.
“What did I miss?”
“Peitho was just leaving.”
“Willingly? Or do you need a hand?” Deathmask asks like he’s offering him to water his garden while he’s away, and Aphrodite loves him so much, this repentant asshole, this terrible man who will laugh at the gods and give his life willingly.
“How dare you,” Peitho screeches, directing her fury towards Deathmask.
Mistake.
Aphrodite’s vision starts swimming in gold and he thinks his eyes might be doing something creepy from the twin expressions of shock on the faces of Cancer and Aquarius.
“No, you don’t,” Aphrodite says, feeling perfectly calm and incandescently angry.
A branch of roses shoots through Peitho’s shoulder just as she is reaching towards Deathmask. It’s not the sword of Pegasus so it won’t kill her, but, as Aphrodite knows from firsthand experience, getting impaled by a plant hurts like a motherfucker. Even and especially when it doesn’t kill you immediately.
She starts thrashing, clearly inexperienced in battle, power coming out in bursts. “You can’t change who you are!”
“Exactly,” feeling the presence of Deathmask beside him is enough to remind Aphrodite of the sheer joy of battle, “And you have forgotten exactly who I am.”
“You are an Olympian and you must-
“First. You can’t order love around.”
“You let me do it sometimes,” Deathmask grins and winks.
Without even thinking, a branch curls around to grab him and pull him close enough for Aphrodite to make out with his stupid face, because it’s suddenly the most urgent thing in the universe to kiss this fucking idiot who is also the love of his life.
Peitho is forced to watch, Aquarius rolls his eyes (Phro can’t see him, but he knows him well enough) and Deathmask kisses back with all of himself, before staggering back, looking a little dazed and oh so pleased.
And Aphrodite feels so much better when he finally turns once again towards the personification of Persuasion, who has just made an unholy mess of his living quarters and tried to bend him to her will.
Yeah, no.
“Second,” he raises a finger, and more roses open their deadly petals, “You have forgotten love is not all I am.”
He takes a step towards her, and can taste her fear on his tongue, bitter and deep.
“I am Ourania and Pandemos, of the heavens and of the people. I protect the marriage bed with Hera. I am of the sea and of the springs at the foothills of Olympus. I bring sailors to port and protect the law of cities. I drank the blood of sacrifices before battles,” he shows Peitho his teeth and he knows they are still stained red, “I am Higemoni, leader of troops, and bringer of warrior fury.”
Another step, and Peitho is trembling.
“I am a child of the Sky and the Sea, I was here long before you and I will still exist long after. And you are nothing. Winged words, easily dispersed, easily forgotten. Crawl back into some politician’s mouth. And never, ever show yourself here again.”
His vines tighten around Peitho, until she screams and light pours out of her, nearly blinding. And then, in a flash, she is gone.
The haze clears from Aphrodite’s eyes, though he can still feel pinpricks of something that isn’t quite his cosmo. That, and anger at the mess she left. He sighs, and rights a fallen chair, though it’s far from the worse of the damage.
“Uhm.” Aquarius looks like he can’t blink enough, like he expects Aphrodite to turn into some mythological monster if he looks away.
Aphrodite raises an eyebrow. “Do you trust I don’t have some secret agenda now?”
“That was,” Deathmask licks his lips and looks at Aphrodite like he’s a sprawling banquet. He’s made of fruit trees and figs so ripe they’re splitting open, he’s the bloody meat ripped from a fresh catch, he’s fragrant bread still letting off steam. And Aphrodite knows: this is his body, this is himself, truly. Of all the forms he has been worshipped in, this might be his favourite - because of the way Deathmask is looking at him.
“I’m leaving,” Aquarius announces, annoyance at his colleagues being their usual horny selves clearly winning over any remaining shock or worry.
“Hey,” Aphrodite shouts at his retreating back, “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Please.”
And then Aphrodite and Deathmask are free to go wreck the bedroom too.
“I love you. Not sure if I ever said it, but,” Deathmask attempts a shrug from where he is lying prone on the bed, Aphrodite straddling his thighs.
The warmth Aphrodite feels is not entirely sentimental, the faint light at the tip of his fingers still a little other, but the happiness is so very human. He takes Angelo’s hand and places it over his very flesh-and-blood heart. I love you. I love you, it says with every beat.
“I love you,” he says it with his tongue too.
And then he says it with his hands and with his whole body; he worships Deathmask until he’s thrashing on the bed, flushed and wanting and oh so warm. Too warm, even.
Still straddling him, Aphrodite stops, a hand on Angelo’s sternum, and frowns.
Ops.
“I, uhm,” Aphrodite licks his lips, “Mighthaveburnedoffyourmortality. Accidentally.”
“You what?”
“I didn’t know I could do that!”
“What did you do?!”
“So.” Phro sighs, “You know Demophon and Demeter, right?”
“Yeah…” Deathmask draws the word out slowly. His hand is still on Aphrodite’s hip, he’s not tensing or moving away.
Demeter had tried to make Demophon immortal by burning away his mortality. She hadn’t succeeded, but it was possible. Apparently.
“I didn’t know I could do that,” Phro repeats, “Or I would have asked. If you, uhm. If you wanted to become immortal-ish.”
“I…” Deathmask blinks up at him. And then recovers. “It would have been useful a few years ago, babe.”
The tension breaks and Aphrodite dissolves into somewhat hysterical giggles, folding onto Deathmask’s chest. “Stop calling me babe, you fucking menace.”
“Morò mou,” Deathmask insists, petting his hair, his back.
“Stop it!” still laughing.
“Agapi mou glikò,” caressing his thighs.
“Disgusting!”
“I can go on.”
“I know.” Aphrodite pulls himself up to look the other in the eye. “Are you really okay with it?”
“Is there a catch somewhere?”
Phro really thinks about it. He never planned on doing anything like that, it was all instinct. “I… don’t think so? You will still age and die at some point, and so will I. Just. Very slowly. And I will find you again, after.”
Angelo rolls his eyes. “You guys are such messes, I can’t believe people ever worshipped you. I’m fine. It seems like a pretty sweet deal, right?”
“How are you being so calm about,” Aphrodite gestures wildly around, at himself, at Deathmask, “All this? I feel like I’m about to fall into pieces at every step.”
Instead of answering, Deathmask grabs his waist and flips them over.
“Calm,” he laughs it off, “Look, it’s not like we were some hapless civilians even before. Am I a little freaked out? Yeah, obviously. But then again, I started hearing the screams of the dead when I was six: my bullshit threshold is higher than even most people here, I reckon. And we were about to fuck, you’re not gonna distract me with existential questions.”
Fair.