𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥

Welcome to Athens, [ADONIS]! It looks like they [DO] remember their past life as a God. It is said that [HE/HIM] has [CHARM] but is also [NAIVE]. Apparently they look like [MICHAEL EVANS BEHLING] and they’re [CISMALE]. 

“by the time you get to listen to Sir Ramsey The Cook, you’ll have to freestyle either way,” they laugh as they lean over the counter, stealing a bite off of the bowl with cut up tomatoes. they lick off their fingers and yeah, they haven’t done much work other than move the salt two inches for Adonis to reach, or refill their glasses of water. but then again, the kitchen would definitely burn if they got their hand on any sort of kitchen utensil, so it really was for the best for them to sit this one out. “yes i am, you’re not doing that bad, come on, start chopping up the garlic, otherwise you’ll never catch up, go, go!” they cheer.

-

“He’s just talking way too fast,” Adonis whines, throwing in more herbs in a bowl. He doesn’t even know if they’re the right ones and since they all smell good and look the same, he figures it doesn’t hurt to top everything off with an abundance of rosemary if things go awry. Grateful that he has his friend over to witness this disaster of a meal, he laughs at their cheer, grabbing the bulb and flattening it with his palm. “You know, you’re doing great for an assistant,” he teases, laughing as he minces the garlic. “But a better assistant would do more than just sit around. Let’s open up a bottle of wine. I think the recipe calls for it but I don’t know where. Maybe it goes to the chef?”

Apate didn’t answer right away. She had to wait to hear the camera shutter click before turning to him. “I mean you can climb the mountain, I think,” she said, “But I don’t think it takes you where you want to go.” Her hair was pulled back into a long sleek ponytail and her make up was still perfect. She had chipped a nail though. 

-

“Where would that lead us?” Adonis whips his head towards the other, the idea of actually climbing the mountain itself the only thing he wants to do right at this very second. “Because where else would Olympus be, right? Just go straight up! If there’s anything else up there, it should be just as good.” He’s getting more and more excited now; is there really a chance for him to go home? “How much climbing equipment do you think we’d need?”

“Yeah…” She was hesitant to even answer as she knew the other god and what his intentions could be, though, assuming them now, she never could expect anything anymore. Nemesis lifted a brow back at him with a slight tilted angle of her expression. “Why?” She questioned all too quickly, before holding out her hand to him as well without much thought. “I think it must mean that you carry your hands with you anywhere, and thus, should know them better than anything else. Yet…most don’t stop and learn to appreciate the beauty in their own hands, and perhaps that’s what leads them astray; that you should know better, but…you don’t.”

-

Adonis merely shrugs and finally takes his eyes off of his hand. He’s not sure how his train of thought took its way from catching up with the goddess to the idiom. His attention shifts back towards Nemesis, taking the hand that she holds out. “You carry your feet with you, too, so why don’t they say feet? Or your hair? Or your face?” Her words still run through his mind as he tries to comprehend how it takes on the saying he’s still mulling over. Nemesis has always been the more profound one between the two of them and her words, while beautiful, need a little more time to resonate. “Speaking of beauty in my own hand,” Adonis smiles, giving her a squeeze. “Tell me. When are we able to go back home? I like it here but I don’t. Does that make sense?”

The library is quiet -- a little too quiet for Adonis’ liking but it’s the most secretive spot he could think of; that and he’s not really much of a books guy so no one will think to look for him there. “I miss home,” he admits, head leaning back against one of the shelves. A quick glance at the titles and he’s about eighty four percent sure they’re in some poetry section. “Don’t get me wrong. I like the people here. I just -- I don’t know. Am I being silly?” 

There’s a pumpkin in one hand and a knife in the other. Adonis turns towards the other with a pleading look on his face. “There’s this competition,” he starts, thinking of how to sell a pumpkin-carving contest. “And my neighbor has this kid. Ten year old. His name’s Jimmy. Kind of an asshole.” He’s rambling now but he tries to keep his game-face on. “Long story short. I bet him ten bucks that I can make a way better pumpkin than he can. Wanna help a guy out?”

“So do we listen to Gordon Ramsey or are we free styling here?” His kitchen is a mess, but Adonis has always wanted to find passion in something and who else serves passion other than the king of Hell’s Kitchen himself? The speaker bursts with obscenities regarding some type of sauce but Adonis is still steps behind. He’s just happy that nothing’s burning yet. In any case, the fire extinguisher is nearby. “Are you still willing to be my taste-tester?”

There’s no shame in indulging oneself and so when Adonis decides to try something new, he figures inviting someone he knows to share the experience would make it even more fun. “Come on,” he urges the other, bright smile clear on his features. “Pretend we’re climbing back to Olymp -- wait a minute. Can we actually do that?” The answer is probably no considering how they’re rock-climbing inside a sports store, but the question still deserves to be asked.

Adonis extends his arm, brows furrowing in concentration as he really takes in the back of his hand. “You know that saying,” he addresses his companion though his sole focus is elsewhere. “I know it like the back of my hand?” He tries in vain to etch it into memory. “Wait. Give me your hand. Maybe it’ll work with yours.” The young god looks at the other expectantly as if the answers to all his problems are there. “Or do you think hand means something else?”

***

Nostrils flaring, Apollo whipped their head around to glare daggers at Adonis. “You… How is it possible that I, in all my glory, am rendered to a slobbering adolescent by such a dunce? You frustrate me. I hate you.” Each insult was followed by a smack of Apollo’s hand to Adonis’ muscular biceps.

Yet immediately after the assault, they smoothed over the muscle, caressing and soothing. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, there-there.” Yet somehow, it seemed like they were apologizing to the body they found so gorgeous rather than Adonis himself. “Do whatever you want, I care not.” They sighed, giving up, hands reluctantly leaving the other man. “Come, my beddable blockhead, I am hungry. Hide me behind your hulking form while I stuff my face with cake.” They let out a pitiful sob, craving something sweet to curb their annoyance with. 

-

“You don’t slobber,” Adonis points out and is about to make a comparison with dogs he has seen and befriended, but is then reduced to a stricken-stance by the other’s words. “You hate me?” At once he’s about to apologize for something he may or may not have done; he has quite the tendency to not be overly-aware of how he perceives things sometimes and that has cost him the ire of some. 

As quick as he is to almost start pouting, Apollo retracts and still, Adonis waits for them to release him before quickly swinging his arm to pull them by his side. “You talk too fast,” is what he ends up saying because he can only keep up so much. “But I think you said cake so that’s what I’m going to get us.” He pulls them along towards the far-end of the room where he thinks the refreshments would be. “Do you think they have red-velvet? A mortal showed me once and I’m telling you, Apollo, it’s the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

It was a long shot, but Nemesis seemed to have made her rounds to others, so she couldn’t leave Adonis out of the mix, and since he was so thick, she knew she’d have to be extra patient with him. “No…That’s not what I—” She paused, hearing his whispers before rolling her eyes with a huff. “No, it’s not a sex thing. It’s just…a thing thing. You are…really into yourself, aren’t you? Like just…a thing of wonder?”

-

“A thing-thing,” he repeats, nodding as if he’s understood. Things are things and if things are thing-things, then it should be a big thing. “So not sex.” Adonis practically beams at what he perceives to be a compliment. “Aw, thanks, Nemesis,” he pulls out the aww-shucks duck of his head. “I’m not a wonder but it’s nice of you to think so.” It’s not that Adonis’ self esteem needs a little push -- or any at all -- but it’s nice for someone to notice him every once in a while. “I think you’re a thing of wonder.”

Apollo’s usually beaming, animated expression was dull and vacant, parted lips pressed against the crystal of the glass they were holding up, but not drinking from; instead, they just breathed against the ornate glass while they gazed away into the distance. Their lashes fluttered as they fought an eye roll when Adonis spoke.

“Hush, you gorgeous dolt. Don’t speak, so I can keep on pretending that your presence is actually in some way enriching, and does more than just arouse me.” They shot him a glare, finally downing their drink.

“Thank you?” Apollo’s response conjures up even more confusion. Adonis is left frowning, then slightly smiling, then back to furrowed brows as he tries to decipher if he’s been insulted or not. “So do I talk or do I just --,” he waves his arm around to encompass the general idea of doing something because that’s what he’s yet to do at this party: something, anything that would keep him entertained. 

He follows the other in finishing the rest of his drink, scrunching his nose up at the aftertaste. “You know, someone should make a drink out of berries.” A pause and then --. “No wait, that’s wine, isn’t it? Maybe we should make our own wine.”

Adonis inspects his glass carefully, taking tiny sips because that’s classy, right? “How do these get us drunk,” he asks his companion, eyes narrowing at the liquid. “Does it attack our insides? I don’t think I’m comfortable with that.”