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His birthday falls on a Saturday, which might mean a full day of relaxation and partying for other people; but for Icarus it only means that the ratio of work to schoolwork is flipped. He’d taken his neighbor’s beagle, Turk, for his morning walk earlier, and then put in three hours at the coffee shop. Now he’s wrapping up four hours at the cashier job. This day has netted him… he calculates in his head…about enough money for ½ of his monthly grocery expenses (a lower number thanks to his benefits from working the library), or 1/9 of his rent, or 1/252 of his current student loans. Ugh.
Icarus at least has some birthday treats to look forward to now that his shift is finally up. Mostly baked goods, including some from the coffee shop (which was almost certainly ‘not quite stolen’ by Blake) and homemade things from Elverna and Leroy. They’d also given him a gift card for a restaurant, and all of this actually reduces his grocery bill even further, so Icarus is in a good mood when he walks into the back room to punch out for the day.
This good mood wobbles, along with the apparent fabric of reality, as soon as he’s entered his employee ID number into the keypad: there’s a weird, visible…. shimmering of the air around him, accompanied by the sound like a harp strum, and everything takes on a pinkish sheen.
The shimmer and harp music is over in a flash, but the pink haze remains. Icarus turns around slowly, looking around with trepidation. Nothing immediately seems amiss, except for the weird pink light, and the sudden silence. Before he’d keyed in his ID, there had been the usual noise of a busy store filled with workers and shoppers and in the back, machinery running. Now, as he pads uneasily through the back room, his footsteps are easily audible in the total silence-
“SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!”
Icarus gasps and stumbles back against a metal rack containing boxed mac ‘n cheese as a half-dozen or so guys all jump out and shout at him, huge grins on their faces, as they all start shouting or singing a number of different things. They all seem to have angel wings.
“Haha! Icarus, hey! Happy birthday, man!”
“♪ Why was he born so beautiful, why was he born at all? He’s no fucking use to anyone, no fuckin use at all…♫”
“We decided against that one, dumbass!”
“♫ Hey, they say it’s your birthday! Well it’s my birthday too, yeah! They say-♪”
“Guys, guys, stop, he looks terrified,” one of them observes, holding up his hand.
The singing and shouting stops, and they all look at Icarus critically, where he’s slumped against the rack and watching them with wide eyes.
“If you say so, Hy,” one of them says doubtfully. “He looks pretty neutral to me. Maybe surprised.”
“That’s… that’s.. just my usual face,” Icarus manages. “For all occasions. Um. Uh… do I… know you gentlemen… oh!”
He’s pushed himself away from the rack and notices for the first time that his stumble had toppled over some of the boxed pasta… but that they’re hanging in the air, frozen in place, not falling. He looks back over at the guys.
“Neutral bordering on annoyed!” The same one guesses confidently.
“You don’t know us now,” says another one, stepping forward with a smile. He’s got reddish eyes and pink, fluffy-looking hair atop a soft round face, and the most perfectly innocent expression Icarus has ever seen, which raises his suspicions immediately. His wings are the largest, even though he’s not particularly taller than anyone. “But you knew us before. I’m Eros… love squad leader!” He makes a little heart shape with his hands.
“Himeros,” says a guy with an Elvis pompadour, also making the heart shape. “Impetuous love.”
“Hedylogos. Sweet talk,” this guy has dimples and striking blue eyes. This is the guy who’s been guessing his facial expressions. He makes the heart shape too; must be part of some squad pose.
“Hymenaios… the bridal hymn.” Peacock-printed silk shirt and an enormous afro. “Uh, I didn’t actually work with you that much. Or like, at all.”
“Me either,” says a tall and shockingly beautiful….person. Their hair is long and held in a single thick braid, which is draped casually over their shoulder. They’re standing casually, hands in pockets, but takes them out for the heart shape. “Hermaphroditus. Erote of genderqueer love.”
“…Oh! Wow, I didn’t know … I’m glad to know there’s a representative!”
“Aww. That one’s ‘neutral with a touch of empathetic happiness,’” observes Hedylogos with a grin.
“You didn’t really have as much to do with me either – uh, Anteros, ‘love returned,’” the guy with long hair and an undercut – very Viking chic, or like Sokka’s wolf tail. He hurriedly does the heart thing and continues in urgent tones. “I had to wait on those two assholes to see where they stood. But look, the flip side is ‘unrequited love,’ right, and since we all know how your story turned out, I can totally go fight them for you and I will, any time you want, just say the word, they won’t even see it coming – ”
“Right, right, and uh – I’m Pothos.” The one wearing a man-bun and a soulful expression on his face – he looks more than a little bit like Kit Harrington – discreetly nudges Anteros aside. He makes the heart shape and looks at Icarus soulfully and expectantly.
Icarus looks back at him blankly and then hesitantly makes the heart shape back. “I’m – pleased to meet you…?” he says uncertainly.
They all smile a little at his heart gesture, though Pothos shakes his head with a sigh. “He doesn’t even remember me!”
“He doesn’t remember anything at all,” Eros says, “…maybe for the best.”
“I’m longing, or pining,” Pothos informs Icarus. “I was… with you, often, in prison.”
“…Oh…?”
Eros jumps in here: “And, our guest of honor – the lovely and esteemed Prince Ganymede, the Cupbearer.”
“Oh, knock it off,” says another incredibly beautiful person, flashing a smile. Honestly, it’s a little odd how attractive the entire group is, but this guy takes the cake – everything about him commands attention. He has warmly tanned kin and lightly curling golden hair; wide eyes with thick eyelashes and sparkling green irises. He looks younger than the rest, and is the only one without wings. This, then, is the mortal that Zeus chose to be his lover. One of his last lovers, from what Icarus can tell, or near to it. And the only one to be immortalized. He made it to Olympus.
Ganymede doesn’t make the heart shape. He holds up two fingers in a peace-sign greeting instead.
“It’s good to see you again, Icarus,” Ganymede says. “And… really great to see you’re doing so well.”
“Well, it’s lovely to be….meeting you all… again,” Icarus says awkwardly, making them laugh again. He’s nervous; even though they all seem to be very friendly and jovial, he knows it’s coming. They’re going to talk about What Happened Before.
Sure enough:
“Well, buddy, we all wanted to come by for your very special birthday!” Eros is resting one elbow on a pallet nearby and grinning at him.
“Special? Uh – “ Icarus tries to think. This isn’t really a milestone birthday…
“You finally outlived your previous incarnation!”
Ahh. There it is.
The other Erotes cheer again. “So you’re off to a great start this time!” Pothos says encouragingly.
“You’re that much older and wiser, so you’ll be better able to make the right decisions for yourself,” Hermaphroditus adds.
“Right, and you’re already better about not rushing straight into it,” Himeros chimes in. “Though, granted, you didn’t know they even existed until last year…”
“Ah, ‘neutral with a touch of uneasiness’,” says Hedylogos, watching him.
Icarus does feel uneasy. No one’s ever addressed it so directly before. Even the other gods who have met him, who must know what happened – they still have addressed him mainly in terms of who he is today, rather than who he was before. Probably because even if the gods knew of him before, they didn’t know him personally. Other than the sun gods themselves… and these Erotes, apparently.
Ganymede steps forward. “Hey, listen… I know it must feel strange. But we’re all truly excited to meet you, and to see you’re doing well. Honestly, you have no bigger supporters in Olympus than the Erotes.”
“We were all really cheering for you,” Eros adds, and the others nod in assent.
“And we’re cheering for you now!” says Hymenaios.
“Yes, we really want you to be happy-” Ganymede starts, but is interrupted by Anteros.
“And what happened before will not happen again. That is absolutely certain.” He looks as though he might be imagining himself beating the shit out of the sun gods. Icarus wonders if he ought to say something to defend them, but, well – Apollo and Helios can take care of themselves, he’s sure. They’ve had centuries of practice at surviving infighting among the other immortals.
“Right! So, since we’ve all gotten the dull introductions and the depressing backstory out of the way,” At some point Eros had hopped up on top of the break room fridge and he toes open the door, “… let’s bust open this champagne I got from Dio.”
“Oh – I don’t think I can stay too long? I know Apollo and Helios wanted to do something fun for my birthday for dinner,” Icarus starts to say, then glances at where the boxes of macaroni are still hanging in the air. “Although, I guess that’s not an issue…?”
“Yeah, we took care of that,” Himeros boasts. “You know how when you see someone you really like, and it feels like time stops? That’s our party trick!”
Icarus looks around doubtfully. “Does it really last this long?”
“Ahaha, nope! We’re totally cheating the system,” Eros grins. He has a bottle of champagne in hand and is just on the cusp of uncorking it. “Let’s do this!! Love Squad Party Time!! Icarus, do the heart!”
Icarus isn’t sure what that means immediately, but then he sees everyone else making the shape with their hands. He finally laughs slightly and holds up his own hands in the heart shape, to a raucous cheer and another shout of “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” and the splash of champagne getting everywhere as the cork goes flying out. He laughs again and there’s the sound of everyone cooing at once.
“There’s that killer smile!”
“Damn, Icarus, that’s fricking stunning!”
“It’s a good thing your face is neutral most of the time! A smile like that would slay everyone if it was turned on too much!”
“Oh… come on..” Icarus manages, blushing and trying to hide his face as his grin widens and they all laugh at him again.
From then on, it’s just champagne and ribald jokes and songs, and everyone sharing stories of Love Gone Wrong (but only the funny stories, or ones that had a happy ending). They have a game of Never Have I Ever, trying hard to catch out Ganymede, who seems used to this by now. It’s a blast, and Icarus laughs in spite of himself.
They give him gifts: a book of cheesy pick-up lines; a ton of chocolate; some cologne; a t-shirt covered in hearts and signed by all of them; a box from Eros with instructions to only open it ‘when the time is right.’
“H-how… the hell.. am I supposed to know when that is??” Icarus demands, already more than a little intoxicated.
“You’ll know, young grasshopper,” Eros intones solemnly, his eyes crinkling ominously at the corners.
Hymenaios and Hermaphroditus give him gift certificates to restaurants, with apologies that their particular gifts probably wouldn’t be much use to him.
This goes on for a few hours, and also in no time at all, thanks to the time trick.
Eros and Ganymede drop off a very drunk Icarus, along with his gifts, at his apartment, about a minute and a half after his shift had ended.
“Eros! I might have guessed you’d have no sense of responsibility, but Ganymede, I thought better of you!” Apollo starts to lecture, taking Icarus into his arms, but Ganymede cuts him off.
“You’ll be pleased to know that Icarus is a very affectionate drunk.”
“You guyssssssss!! You guysss it’s my birthday!!” Icarus slurs, beaming up at Apollo and hugging him tightly.
“We brought him back when he started asking about you two. You’re welcome.”
They leave as Icarus is smooshing Apollo’s cheeks into a fish face and laughing.
———–
Ganymede looks in the closet set in the back of his chambers.
His rooms are a suite built into the palace – fairly ornate, and exceedingly comfortable. His closet is quite expansive… though he doesn’t often wear them in the execution of his duties as cupbearer, he does enjoy dressing up in nice clothes, and Zeus never says no to him. Zeus loves to dress him up, too; and, well, some of the Never Have I Evers that the Erotes honed in on include stories of the elaborate games the two of them sometimes play together. That sometimes involve costumes.
This time, though, the item he’s looking for is not elaborate at all.
He finds it, eventually: a simple chiton, clasped in place with a simple brooch in the shape of a heart.
The ‘robe of office,’ as it were, of the Erotes.
Icarus had been meant to be his first champion. The one who would solidify Ganymede’s place as the Erote of romantic aspiration. That feeling of wanting to be worthy of the love of someone you admire. The way Ganymede had felt, upon learning that his lover was Zeus the Almighty.
That motivation is a thing of beauty, he still feels. Like all things, it can go too far, but that feeling that the person you admire is the most wonderful, most amazing person, and you want nothing more than to make them happy, to get to a place where you have earned a smile from them…
Icarus fell. His aspirations were rejected.
Ganymede had been utterly crushed. He’d been heartbroken on Icarus’ behalf; and as a fledgling immortal, the failure had come at a sensitive time for him and had destroyed his ambition. He’d never tried to take up the mantle again, not in thousands of years.
But now…
He’s talked to Eros, and they agree: this is an opportunity. The situation has been reversed. The sun gods… can prove themselves worthy. Icarus can be his champion again, but from the other side. Making him Ganymede’s first agent, as well.
Ganymede puts on the chiton and smiles at himself in the mirror.
When Zeus comes in, later, he finds Ganymede standing at the window, looking over the cloudscape, still wearing the chiton.
“Well, well! And who is this dashing young man gracing my presence?” Zeus asks. He knows exactly what that chiton is, and can’t keep the grin out of his voice.
“How good of you to notice… thank you for the kind words,” Ganymede says, turning around loftily. “Kaki, I believe you have the privilege once again of addressing the Erote of Romantic Aspiration.”