Dean Montgomery

-

Marcos really didn’t know what to say right now when he was put in the spot. there was a quick blush to his cheeks as he called him out on their relationship, whatever it was really. looking away as to hope his bright smile and blush to his tan skin wouldn’t be too obvious. “uhmm – there is something there, more than something there, just right now i sort of fucked up and i’m just waiting on him… i guess i’m just waiting on him to see if he still would want me after the cat and mouse game we played since we both got here.” shaking his head as he thought back on those moments, marcos took in a long hefty breath as he was passing back over the bottle. “i’m head over heels for him - but he needs some space to think. who knows - hoping i can at least see him on my birthday.. but anyways.” 

looking at the view before him, as he moved in closer, just wanting that simple touch with his friend. there was a gut feeling that started to tug at him when he spoke about liam and that was when marcos looked back over, trying his best to not look upset. “i didn’t really know him - only through passing, but i get it … loki – he was a good friend to me and the idea of him leaving the camp and forgetting his life here… i guess - while it’ll heal him from the heart break and everything he went through, but it still hurts to see someone you were getting so close to and cared so much for just leave… so i get it… but just try not to feel lost, we’re all here for you, we’re all here for each other man - you still got me if i’m worth anything.” 

-

As out of the loop as Dean tended to be with the social mechanics of camp and the interpersonal relationships that coexisted in their little community, it wasn’t for lack of caring. He frowned at the mention of a fuck up. Marcos seemed like one of the most genuine, compassionate guys he’d met, whatever he did, he couldn’t imagine it was that bad. Nothing unforgivable, surely. “Fucked up how?” Granted, he knew it was probably none of his business, and he wouldn’t have blamed the guy if he told him as much, but he was still curious nonetheless. If only on the slim chance that it was something he could help with.

With all of the sudden departures, Dean had almost forgotten that he wasn’t the only one dealing with the losses. “Yeah, I know it’s probably for the best for them. It’s not safe to have them in this if their heart and head isn’t in it. I just... I hope they’re safe wherever they are.” It was all he could and would really say about it right now. He hadn’t met Marcos out here to have a pity part. He took another sip from the bottle, letting the alcohol ease his nerves. “You’re worth a lot, Marcos. I don’t know if I’d be able to get through this without you guys.”

-

marcos cocked his head, not really understanding what he meant by that comment. taking the bottle back, he downed a large ammount of it back as he turned to face the boy. “i’m in love with who now?” still so confused, but he needed to drink for this he felt. those last words made the son of wine smile, leaning a bit closer to his friend. “that is — that is how i feel too. I got nothing back there - this is my home, you all are my home now… like it or not, yeah.” nudging him once more, he blushed slightly. “besides all that - how are you, really?” 

Dean cocked his head right back at Marco, mirror the look of confusion. Truth be told, Dean wasn’t the best at reading situations like those, especially from afar. “You know...” he trailed off, hoping Marco would pick up what he was putting down. “I mean, I don’t know, it’s...” this was awkward if he was wrong. “You and Blake... I kinda just assumed you guys were head over heels. You guys are always with each other. I thought I sensed some kind of chemistry there. Is there not?” He blinked for a moment, watching Marcos take a hefty swig from the bottle, and chuckled at how easy and natural it looked. He leaned against the other’s shoulder at the nudge for a moment as he let his gaze fixate in the view in front of them. “I’m good. Just... bummed I guess. Liam left camp the other day... he was like, my best friend. I got here with him, went through all of the major shit with him, and now he’s just... gone. Guess I’m feeling sorta lost.”

“ Who said i’m here to fuck your brains out? ” his gaze narrowed in on the sleeping demigod, Dean had sleep dust still in his bones as he moved languidly like a spoonful of dripping molasses. “ Maybe I could tell you were lonely and here I am, shining and glowing for your sake. Hmm? ” His words filled with enigma as he made his way to the other’s bed, slipping in and laying on his side while keeping contact with the man with brilliant radiance. Hands finding Dean’s hair, playing with it casually while they both laid there in the man’s bed, casual and quiet now - words unnecessary as the silence lingered and settled like the warmth of a bonfire. 

“Lonely..? I was dead asleep,” he smirked and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. While Dean might not have been a night owl so much, he definitely wasn’t the type to say no to company. Still it wasn’t lost on Dean that Ari was probably projecting. “How did you get in the house anyway?” With so many people leaving camp lately, and the influx of new demigods popping up, Ari wasn’t the only one feeling the need to seek out the ones who stuck around. Dean himself was still reeling from the loss of Liam. As the blond settled into the spot beside him, the red head turned on his side as well, his amber gaze meeting the other’s emerald one. It was a comfortable silence that settled. Dean reached over to curl an arm around Ari’s waist, pulling him closer before letting his head rest on the pillow just inches from his friend. His legs moved to intertwine with Ari’s, eager to feel the man’s warmth.

–

a sigh left his lips as he then looked back at the lake. “yeah - i know. when i first got here i told myself to not get attached to any of you… and here i fucking am. hating seeing anyone go because for once in my life – i have actual friends and so yeah … it actually sucks.” lowering his head for a moment he took in a deep breath before looking back at dean. “promise you’ll not leave without saying goodbye at least?” 

-

“Here you are in love with someone,” he teased, playfully bumping his shoulder against his friend’s. He didn’t know the details, admittedly Dean was terrible at keeping up with camp politics and the social scene, but he had his hunches, and he had eyes. He did nod in agreement though, after taking another quick swig from the bottle before handing it back to Marcos. “In your defense though, it’s impossible not to get attached to each other when we’re living and fighting side by side.” While it wasn’t exactly as cut and dry, it was more or less the truth. “I’m not planning on going anywhere. I’ve got nothing to go back to. For better or for worse, you bozos are my home now,” he winked.

@sunchild-dean·

Daydreams came when they wanted to come, and while Reverie could push it along a direction he wanted, stepping out of it and back into the present took a considerable amount of effort and energy, and worst of all, concentration. The son of Hypnos paced back and forth with a slow sleepy step, only pausing when someone passed by. It wasn’t until his gaze flickering towards the red head did he truly pause and try to process. It was an odd shade of red, nothing like the red of the leprechauns or the summer faeries sported. No, this red was muted and varied and the light danced through it in a way that felt far too real for comfort.

The switch between here and there was not a kind one, and it left the demigod staring at other male with a frown across his lips. “Uh,” he blinks, unable to recall if he’s ever met this one. And… well, unable to recall where he was and how he got there. “What was I doing?” he asks, softly, brows knitting in as he looks around for clues. “Was I doing something? For you?”

-

Dean had been lounging on a bench in the center of camp, a magical tome placed on his lap, as he attempted to study. It was no easy task keeping up with Wren in the magical department. While they were the most experienced two mages at camp after the influx of departures, he couldn’t help but feel like he was trailing behind. So while his attention was supposed to be on his studies, he couldn’t help but notice the stranger meandering over toward him, pacing back and forth in a daze. 

He watched curiously as the man continued to walk back and forth. Was he... sleep walking? Then, as if in a snap of a finger, it was like he was brought back to lucidity. The red head arched a brow. “I think you were sleep walking bro. Could be from all the stress of this place,” he flashed a grin grin. “You weren’t doing anything but walking back and forth. I would have tried to snap you out of it but I heard that waking someone up while their sleep walking is like... bad.” He shrugged his shoulders before holding out a hand. “I’m Dean, by the way. Are you new here?”

@sunchild-dean·

sitting out by the lake, he took in a deep breath before looking over at dean, nudging him. “thanks for coming to chill with me a bit - needed some dean time. how have you been?” eyes locked with dean, he was leaning in close as he passed over his bottle just as his attention slowly moved over to lake before them, calming - relaxing. 

For a moment, Dean had been lost in his thoughts, so much so that he’d forgotten that he’d been sitting next to someone. The nudge to his shoulder pulled him out of his head, but not out of his mood. He took the bottle offered to him, even flashed his friend a wide grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good, all things considered.” He let out a sigh and took a swig. “It just sucks sometimes, you know? It feels like people are always leaving.”

it’d been a while since ari had seen a bunch of people, mostly focused on training and sleeping, he knew he had to pay a certain demigod of the sun a visit and quickly, ari knew to sneak into voithos through a window that seemed to be never locked. sneaking in was easy, pulling his wings in as he made his way to dean’s room and opened the door gently. “ hey cutie, room in there for one more? ” he teased the sleeping beauty, smirk on his face as though he had something planned. @sunchild-dean·

Dean wasn’t usually a night person. His idea of a late night was getting to bed any time past midnight, so by the time a certain son of Nike crept into his room, he’d been deep in his REM cycle so much so that as his eyes fluttered open, it took him a few beats to realize that he wasn’t in fact dreaming. “It’s a little late for a booty call, isn’t it, blondie?” he teased, voice cracking with sleep, though he managed to push himself up to get a better look at his midnight visitor. He shifted a bit to the side, making room for the blond if he was serious about getting in.

—

“When have I ever done anything to be polite, Dean?” Beau asks him with a serious expression on his face. He rolls his eyes, shaking his head as if to dismiss the notion entirely. 

Beau stares at Dean for a moment, debating on listening to him and weighing the options between more arguing or just doing as he’s told for once. He’d win in an argue, especially if it came to a fight, but was it worth it in the end? He closes his eyes and inhales, then exhales. He thinks about what might make him happy, what might fill the void that threatens to consume him daily. 

He comes up empty. Which is what his picture nearly represents, just a black void. “It’s not like i’m unhappy. I’m just not…how do I even explain it.” He laughs, twisting the charcoal between his fingers. 

“Never,” he agreed instantly. To be fair, Beau barely had a chance to finish the question before Dean offered his answer. “At least not from what I could see.” Which means he asked the question for a real reason. “So i’m flipping it back, Beau. You know what makes me happy. You know some of my emotional ticks. After all of the quests we’ve been on together, do you trust me enough to tell me some of yours?” Dean was an open book, especially with Beau. The son of Aphrodite has proven time and time again that even though they clash, he has Dean’s back.  After all of their back and forth, watching him focus on the tasks at hand, he had to wonder if it was reciprocated. He hoped it was. Gods did he hope it was. 

But then they got there. Then he actually heard an ounce of truth come out of Beau. At least, it was what Dean interpreted as truth. “Fulfilled?” he tried to add, stepping up behind his friend, even being so bold as to set his chin on Beau’s shoulder as they both looked at the canvas. “Since you’re the son of Aphrodite, do you think it’s because you’re not in love with someone? I’m not trying to be a pot stirrer, but it sounds like... your last boyfriend wasn’t the love that you were meant for.” He shrugged, his chin still resting comfortably on Beau’s shoulder until the other went to remove it. “Maybe you’re destined for more? Maybe that’s what you’re feeling.”

—

“You’re assuming that I care what any of you have to say.” Beau waves a hand dismissively. Truth be told, Beau doesn’t. He knows he’s harsh and that his criticisms leave little to be desired, but he’s not one to hold back his sharp tongue just so other’s can feel validated or vindicated. If they can’t handle the cold, brutality of his truths, that’s on them. He isn’t soft. He was never made to be. 

He watches as the other paints and then walks away from him, leaving a cinder of his presence once he’s back at his canvas. “I don’t know.” Beau says and it’s an honest truth. “Every time I have happiness, I fuck it up.” He picks up his piece of charcoal and begins to drag it across the canvas in a large circle. He continues to fill it in, swirl after swirl of intense black. “Self sabotage is a poison, Dean, and I’m filled to the brim with it.” 

As harsh and as sharp as Beau seemed to feel comfortable being with Dean, he didn’t let the tone get to him. At this point, he liked to think he was well versed in dealing with that particular son of Aphrodite, and learned pretty early on not take what he said too personally. That’s not to say he wasn’t listening, or paying attention. “So... you just ask me these question for fun? To be polite?” he replied back, eyes only momentarily flickering to the other. It was clear Dean had his own ideas about the answer to those specific questions. 

It wasn’t until Beau started to strip away the harsh snark, the defensive sass, did Dean stop his own painting to look over to him. Gods, if it wasn’t a response he could relate to, one he’d always had on his own mind. He wondered silently if it was a demigod thing, or if it was a tragedy he had to share with Beau. “You don’t know what your happiness looks like, or you don’t know what kind of happiness you deserve?” he answered back. “Just... do me a favor and close your eyes.” For a moment, Dean set down his brush to watch Beau. “Fuck what you’ve been told, or how whatever assholes made you feel. What do you want? Right now, what would make you feel whole right now? No judgement. Just picture it, and paint it.”

Beau hums to himself, moving his eyes back to the canvas that all but laughs at him. Though his gaze doesn’t stay on it for long. Dean’s tone makes him snap his eyes toward him and he lifts an eyebrow, head lilting to the side. “I asked you for a reason, Dean.” Beau says, picking up his charcoal and spinning it between his fingers like it’s one of his blades. “I have my answer, I just don’t know what it looks like or how to put that on paper.” His smile turns into a sneer, mocking and tinged with the poison he knows lingers in his bones. 

He moves from his spot and walks over toward Dean, standing behind him to look at what he’s begun to paint. His lips move to the shell of his ear and, with a harshness in his tone, he whispers. 

“I desire happiness.” 

At the end of the day, as much as Dean wanted to know Beau, he knew he didn’t. So as he stared at his empty canvas, listening to the son of Aphrodite skirt around answer after answer, at least from his point of view, he had to work harder and harder to search for reasons to give him a break. “I kinda got that,” he responded instantly, never once looking away from his canvas. “The question is were you asking because you actually gave a shit about what I had to say, or if you were just looking for an answer you could relate to?” He was being harsh, and Dean knew that. 

Instead of a singular figure garnering love and adoration, Dean had begun to paint a collective of shapes and colors. “That’s not very specific. We all want happiness. What does yours look like?” he asked as he continued to paint his own version. He shuddered at the feeling of Beau’s presence right behind him. “What or who does it feel like?” 

Family. 

It should be a fairly simple concept. But what is family to a broken boy who’s patchwork family is barely hanging on by threads? He fights tooth and nail for the demigods but, in the end, are they family to him? He barely knows surface details about most of them and the ones he knows more intimately, outside of sexually, are even less. “Interesting.” Beau says as he moves his gaze back toward his canvas. He drums his fingers against the stark white that stares at him as if mocking. “Is that what you desire? Feeling like this is family?” He doesn’t look at Dean as he speaks. Family leads to disappointment, much like love, and it’s not something that he’s willing to let himself desire. Not in a meaningful way at least. 

“When you were visited in your dream,” Beau starts, “What was it that you wanted? Family or power?” 

While Beau seemed to struggle for the inspiration, the more Dean delved into his psyche, into his desire, the more inspiration he found. After dipping his brush into the easel, brushing together a vision of how he felt didn’t feel so hard. He began at least attempting a visage of what he felt, before looking to Beau, who still seemed stumped. “Yeah. Actually in a nutshell. I want to feel like this is all for a reason,” he reasoned out loud, though his gaze almost hardened. The second question caught him off guard. While he knew he wasn’t alone in the dreams, he had assumed most of the demigods kept them private. He wondered if he was the only one who kept those darker thoughts to himself. “It was complicated. I guess I chose power over what I had...” which was a semblance of family, but nothing Dean would consider the real thing, not now. “But if I could, I would have chosen power to save my family in that moment,” he was quick to add the caveat. After what he’d dealt with, after what he could have had, he wasn’t ashamed to pray for more. “You’re asking me a lot of questions, Beau. But you’re not answering shit. If you don’t trust me just say so. But stop trying to ask me questions to distract from the fact that you don’t have any answers of your own.”

The question he’d ask nearly goes over Dean’s head. He’d asked him what he desires. While carnal pleasures were something he craved, he knew that he could get them whenever he wanted. Whether those were from Dean or someone else was only a question he had to contemplate for a moment before he could pick and choose who he fucked. He fixes his cerulean gaze on the blank canvas before them, places the piece of charcoal on the easel. “I answered your question.” Beau says with a shrug. “What does happiness look like to you?” If Dean couldn’t gather what he meant by that, he wasn’t going to spell it out for him. What did Beau desire the most? To be happy. Truly happy. 

Dean opened his mouth on impulse to answer, but then closed it. He’d known Beau for a while now, in more than one sense of the word. At this point, he liked to think he could pick up on vibes, on tones. They were both trying to get to know each other, trying to pull back layers. The difference was one of them was being vulnerable, the other one was just pretending. “You did? I must have zoned out,” he quipped, both hands tucked in his back pockets as he turned to meet Beau’s eyes. “What was it you most desired... minus Eris’ head on a stick?” What did happiness look liked to Dean? He was more than happy to answer. “Synergy,” he replied back almost on instinct. “Feeling like I share all of this energy, this power, with people I love and trust. Like I can change the world in way that actually means shit, that helps people. That’s what happiness is to me.” The fact all of the shit he’d gone through actually meant something. He knew there was more to everything than that, than him. “Long story short? Family.” How does one even draw that?

@lcthallust·

The curve of Beau’s lips, like a crescent moon, is a juxtaposition against the bored look lingering in his eyes. He turns his head toward Dean and rolls his eyes. It’s friendly, though, no true malice behind it. “I’m sure the gods and goddesses of nature would love Eris’ head on a spike.” He waves a dismissive hand, his piece of charcoal loosing moving between his fingers as if it was a cigarette. “And while you spread eagle in my bed is tempting, it’s not what I desire. Desires should be something you might not be able to have.” He grins wider now, a spark in his eyes that blazes like a wild fire. He turns his attention back to his canvas and attempts to think. “What does happiness look like to you?” He asks Dean, head tilting to the side. 

“Yeah, but I got the vibe they were looking for something a little bit more peace and love, and less... anything Eris related,” even saying the name gave Dean the chills. While he wasn’t sure about Beau, Dean himself wanted to focus on creating something less bloody and more hopeful, something to empower the people at camp. Dean rolled his eyes even harder, and less in friendly way at the comment. “Well now that you mention it, maybe you should put that in your desire section, then..” He quipped right back with a light chuckle. “The last time I was asked to paint something I desired, I think I was in third grade,” he laughed. He looked over at Beau with a wry grin, “I painted some sad ass attempt at a rockstar,” he couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory. “It was supposed to be my dad, not me.” He clicked his tongue as he reflected on that, before shifting his gaze back to Beau. “I asked you first by the way.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I understand that.” It was hard to see a living creature lose it’s life for yours but it was apart of the festival, just as much as anything else.  Jackson did give bright grin at that wink and gave a soft chuckle at those next words.  “ What can I say? A camp full of hot boys and magical creatures seemed to be exactly what I was designed for. I’m just making up for lost time, handsome.”  He shot the other a wink as he felt that other squeeze to his shoulder. He wasn’t lying either- the camp felt like it had filled a part of his soul that he didn’t know he needed. A home and a place to be his pure, unvarnished self. It was…refreshing to say the least. His head tilted as the other spoke about the goddess of the hunt with a little nod a few times at his words. Maybe it was that simple? The deer was the goddess chosen animal after all.  “ Yeah. Honestly I suppose I shouldn’t ponder the motives of some goddess I don’t know. Pretty sure only madness is down that path.” Their parents were…well, rather still powerful figures that were hard to connect to, at least in Jackson’s mind.  His eyebrows raised a bit as the other took that bloodied arrow but he nodded before drowning the last of his drink and following the redhead back towards the forest. At least he got a little one on one time with Dean  this way.  “Sure- it’s only about ten minutes this way.  Right next to this big tree. “ He pointed out, giving a wave towards the middle of the forest before setting out. Not even bothering to find his shirt again, his pants low on his hips. 

Of course this guy was oozing charm. Dean’s cheeks burned a bright red when he was called handsome. While truth be told, he wasn’t the type go get bashful or embarrassed, especially when complimented, but it was the way Jackson said it, and the wink that followed. It gave him remnants of Beau in a way. The confidence, the ability to stare at him and make him feel like he was completely exposed. He sucked on his own bottom lip and forced his gaze to the side. “Yeah, it’s funny what a camp full of hot, virile guys with god blood pumping through their veins can accomplish, huh?” he quipped right back, chest pumping out as he took in a deep breath. He could even smell Jackson sweat and musk, rife with pheromones. This was not the son of Athena Dean would have imagined. He definitely did have to agree with the new demigod’s point. “Honestly. Especially if it’s not even your parent. I can’t even figure out what my own father is about. As if I could ever understand any other god,” he mused, finally pulling his arm away from Jackson’s shoulder, and tucking it in his pocket. The other hand twirled the arrow in his fingers as if it were second nature. “You carried that thing for ten minutes?” After giving one last once over at the man’s exposed torso, noting how distractingly low his pants hung, showing off that beautiful ‘v’ very obviously, he smiled to himself and forced his attention forward, on the tree. “You really are a Pali, aren’t ya?” he chuckled. “Where were you from before all of this, anyway? What were you? Some kind of MMA fighter, or pro athlete?”