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If there was one thing Hermes was known for — aside from his swiftness — it was his mischievous nature, his penchant for little tricks for his own entertainment. It didn’t matter who they were, his siblings, Zeus, or poor unsuspecting mortals, Hermes would pull some kind of trick on them. Sometimes it was a harmless prank or a bet, other times it was a theft. He did it to everyone.
This, of course, included Charon.
At first, he hadn’t actually planned on doing it. Charon was Chthonic, eons older than him, and far more powerful. Hermes wasn’t an idiot, he knew when to keep his tricks to himself. Working with Charon would have to be strictly professional. It didn’t help that for a long time, Hermes couldn’t understand a word he said.
After a while of working with him, Hermes had learned to read his smoke and body language to figure out what his professional associate was thinking. But for the most part, their conversations were one-sided. Neither of them seemed to mind, but for years Hermes wished they could hold a proper conversation together.
His wish came true over decades and centuries. With every groan Charon uttered, Hermes grew closer to understanding him. However, he also grew closer to Charon as a person, which lead to an idea one night while he’d been flying high above the clouds. A trick, even if Charon would never really have any idea it was happening.
Because Charon believed that Hermes couldn’t understand him, he was freer with his speech. Under the guise of being oblivious, Hermes heard many muttered phrases that no one would ever believe the boatman would say. Rude remarks about Hades and the other Olympians (never Hermes), swears and curses, concern for his overworked siblings. All while nodding along with Hermes stories as if his groans were actually adding something to the conversation.
So, Hermes grand plan was to simply keep up appearances. He continued to make half-baked attempts at guessing what Charon was saying to him, all the while laughing to himself about the sheer potty mouth the boatman had on him. Eventually, he would say something about it (maybe), but it was something that kept him entertained for years.
Of course, this trick would only serve to bite Hermes in the backside in the long run. In two ways.
The first was that Charon’s freedom of speech quickly grew to be endearing. Hermes had always found him fascinating in a distant, untouchable way. With understanding him came the fact that Charon wasn’t all that different from him, and Hermes liked the personality he found under the smoke and guttural moans.
On the day Charon told him that he would gladly listen to anything he said, Hermes knew what he felt was far more than simple liking. Staring the sincere look on Charon’s weathered face, Hermes could have told him then that he knew exactly what he’d been saying for years. He didn’t.
That led to the second, very obvious problem. Charon had no idea that Hermes could understand him and wasn’t afraid to say anything in front of him. Which led to Hermes’s current predicament.
When Hermes had flown down to the Temple of Styx with a perfectly behaved gaggle of souls behind him, Charon was deep in conversation with Thanatos. They floated at the edge of the dock, neither of them paying any attention to their surroundings. Thanatos, quiet as ever, was impossible to hear, but the way he kept shifting his arms and avoiding his brother’s gaze told Hermes that whatever the topic of conversation was, it wasn’t one he was entirely comfortable with.
Before Hermes could interrupt and avoid overhearing anything he shouldn’t, Charon’s voice rang out over the temple, a guttural cry that had both Thanatos and Hermes flinching backwards. The words sunk in slowly, as they always did when Charon spoke, but with every one he understood, the further his heart fell into his stomach.
I feel nothing towards Hermes except what I should. We are associates, nothing more. Stop asking, Thanatos.
Everything within Hermes ached to run, to fly far away and never look back. His chest clenched tightly, and his wings beat the air, completely out of control. Charon wasn’t looking at him, didn’t even know he was there, but it wouldn’t take long. Hermes needed to control himself, get his feelings back in check enough that his understanding wasn’t so obvious.
Before that could happen, a startled Thanatos just so happened to look over the brim of Charon’s hat and find Hermes there, still trying to school his expression. For a single moment, Hermes wanted to know what Death Incarnate had been asking his brother. That was quickly shot down by the knowing look in Thanatos’s eyes, an answer to his question all the same.
Thanatos, somehow, knew of Hermes’s feelings despite their limited conversations while on the job, and (for reasons not even Hermes could figure out) was asking if Charon happened to feel the same way.
He didn’t.
In sunk in all over again, but this time it was easier to keep his body from sagging and wanting to fly away. The shades behind him had grown restless at Charon’s outburst, and so he tried to distract himself by making sure they were alright.
“Apologies, Charon,” Thanatos said behind him, clearing his throat as if that could somehow alleviate the awkwardness that filled the air. “I only thought— What I mean is— Look, it doesn’t matter. You’ve made your point quite clear. I have souls to collect. I’ll… talk to you another time.”
He was gone in an instant, and Charon grumbled something under his breath that Hermes couldn’t quite make out. In the few seconds of silence that followed, Hermes took a deep breath and forced a smile onto his face, before turning back to the being he had fallen so deeply for. The being that didn’t want him in return, no matter what.
“Hey there, boss!” he called, grateful that his voice didn’t shake the way he’d thought it would.
Charon didn’t jump or startle, he never did. He simply turned and regarded Hermes with a look he now knew to be indifference. He groaned a greeting and held out a hand for the shades’ coin, leaving Hermes to fill the silence like he usually did.
For a moment, Hermes wasn’t sure if he could do it without spilling out everything he was thinking and feeling. His chest ached, his thoughts a mess, and his eyes burning with the threat of tears. Heartbreak was never something he’d thought he would experience. His history was filled simple flings with other immortal beings, or temporary at best with mortals. With Charon, he’d known it to be different for centuries, something more solid and permanent.
And yet, when he opened his mouth, a tale about Zeus spilled from his lips. He thanked whoever was looking out for him and prattled on, trying not to look at Charon’s face as he did so. It was hard, especially when watching his associate had become so engrained within him. The boatman nodded and grunted along with him as expected, just like everyone else he ever spoke to.
For some reason, he had believed Charon was different, that he actually listened and enjoyed what Hermes told him. Charon had told him as much, once. But he saw them as nothing more than associates, not even friends. After all those centuries, he couldn’t even be considered a friend. It wasn’t like he ever expected Charon to return his feelings, but it still hurt anyway. Especially now that he knew that everything Charon did around him was faked, except for the occasional comments he let out. Those, at the very least, were genuine.
Genuine, but also meaningless now that he knew the truth.
Hermes cut his story short the second the last shade stepped onto the ferry. It was easy to make some excuse about being busy, but actually leaving was one of the hardest things he had ever done. His body felt heavy, as if his wings weren’t strong enough to carry him anymore. Charon made a confused sound and went to say something more, but Hermes was gone before the words could come out.
The moment he was away from the Styx and the haunting red of its waters, he let the tears fall and wondered which member of his family had cursed him so.
After that, he put every ounce of his effort into avoiding Charon whenever possible. He’d drop the shades off so fast that he was nothing more than an orange blur in the dark temple. Messages would be handed over with a flurry of speech so quick that Charon never had a chance to get a word in. Excuses were made: another brewing war, Zeus on the hunt for another way to piss Hera off, mortals requiring blessings, whatever he could think of in the moment to get him as far from the Underworld as possible.
He avoided Thanatos as well, seeing as the Chthonic being was well aware of Hermes’s feelings. That was a lot easier than avoiding his brother. They rarely saw each other and even when they did, Thanatos was quiet and busy enough that they only ever shared a few words of awkward small talk before one of them left. Neither of them ever brought up what Hermes had heard, despite the knowing look that occasionally graced Thanatos’s face. For that, Hermes was immensely grateful.
Seeing Charon, even for only a minute, hurt. Whenever he was around him, his chest clenched painfully with feelings that didn’t want to go away, no matter how much he wished they would. For years, he’d wanted nothing more than to be able to reach other and cup Charon’s face, or run his fingers through his hair, or hold his hand. He’d wanted nothing more than to touch reverently and be touched in return.
It was something he would have to get over sooner rather than later. It was pointless to continue pining when he knew what the answer would be. They had jobs to do and a professional relationship to maintain. That was all. That was all it would ever be, and Hermes needed to get used to that.
And yet, on the handful of occasions Hermes did have to stay in the Temple of Styx for more than a few seconds, Charon acted like nothing had changed. To him, nothing had. He still nodded along and made rude comments about Hermes’s family and anything else that came to mind under the assumption that Hermes couldn’t understand him. Once, they had been funny. Now, they were tiring.
At some point, he did need to tell Charon that he could understand him. The original plan had been to wait until Charon said something truly shocking and make a big song and dance about it. Charon would be embarrassed, it would be funny. Now, he imagined that Charon would be angry at him and never really speak in his presence again. It might make things easier actually, if they went back to how things were when Hermes first became a psychopomp.
What Hermes couldn’t understand was why, if Charon was so indifferent towards him, did he play along with Hermes’s chattering ways? Everyone else made it fairly obvious that they wanted him to either be quiet or leave, but Charon always looked and sounded vaguely amused. He would laugh sometimes, or make sarcastic remarks. Hermes had even caught him in the middle of asking a question before he realized that Hermes would have no idea what he was saying and gave up. None of it made sense. Charon never seemed like the kind of person to pretend he liked another when he didn’t, always straightforward about everything. Then again, Charon had surprised him before, he could easily do it again.
If it was some kind of trick, it only made sense. Perhaps the universe had grown tired of Hermes’s games and decided to show him just what he had been doing to people.
His attempts at avoiding Charon meant that he had more free time on his hands. Free time that he didn’t really know what to do with and thus spent it wondering aimlessly around Olympus in the hopes that something there could alleviate his boredom.
The days passed in a blur as he tried desperately to get over his feelings. How did one let go of a love that had buried itself so deep within them? It felt impossible. Every time he so much as thought of Charon, his heart would clench and his eyes would sting. He felt stupid for ever thinking that Charon, who consistently snarked about his family, would ever feel something evenly remotely close to friendship for an Olympian.
His family took notice, of course. Some of his siblings asked after him, but he made the opposite excuses to the ones he made to Charon. He had found himself with a little extra free time and wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with it. That got him invited out hunting with Artemis or to feasts with Dionysus or to whatever it was his Uncle Poseidon did for fun. Hermes had gone out with him and he still wasn’t all that sure.
Aphrodite’s attempt at filling his time was to give him a gift. Or maybe, given the way she looked at him, it was an attempt to comfort him. The gift, a long scarf made from differing shades of orange and yellow, was soft in his hands. It fluttered out behind him when he flew, an all too satisfying feeling.
If he spent a few hours flying around just to feel how to wind pulled at the tough fabric, no one ever needed to know.
When Hermes next had to deliver a message to the Underworld (a letter from Zeus asking after Hades wellbeing. Useless, really. Hades never replied), he had the scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. It was soothing, something to comfort him during the awkward conversation he was about to endure.
Just like every other time he’d seen Charon since his accidental rejection, his feelings hit him like a punch to the gut. It had been going on for months, maybe at least a year, Hermes’s avoidance of his associate. It felt both longer and shorter than that, enough time to be over his feelings and at the same time, nowhere near it. Because when he saw Charon, they were all right there in front of him again. Adoration, fondness, amusement, something so close to unconditional love it was painful.
With them came frustration and anger and disappointment. They were just as hard to ignore as the rest, but he made do, fiddling with the edges of his messenger bag as he flew down to face one of the few beings he’d once believed he could call a friend.
“Hi there, my good associate,” he said, pulling Charon’s attention away from where he was tending to his boat. “Message for you. Well, for your boss, that is.”
If things had been normal, he would have said more. But as it was, all he wanted to do was leave. Charon turned towards him, as slowly as ever, and froze when he saw Hermes fluttering just above his eyeline.
Purple smoke drifted between them, something Hermes still thought was stunning in a way nothing else was. Charon reached out, long fingers playing with the edge of the scarf, groaning out a question of where it had come from. His head tilted, bright eyes staring up at him curiously, and Hermes couldn’t help the twinge in his chest.
“Oh, this? One of my sisters gave it to me, wouldn’t you believe that?” Hermes said, plastering on his usual grin. The air around him was cold, seeping into his bones and weighing them down. “What do you think?”
He asked the question without thinking. Chiding himself for his ongoing stupidity, he waited for the lie that was no doubt about to spew from Charon’s mouth and the act he would have to put on to pretend what he’d heard was a compliment.
But what Charon groaned out was not an insult, nor was it a lie.
You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.
Once again, everything within Hermes froze, as if the temple air itself had tried to swallow him. His lips were parted, breaths silent, and his eyes wide with a mix of shock and confusion. Immediately, Charon knew he had heard, knew he had understood, and the plume of smoke that tumbled from his skull-like mouth was thick enough to obscure Hermes’s view of him.
“W-What?” Hermes said. His voice didn’t sound like his own, cracked and high-pitched.
The warble Charon let out was near the same. You understood me?
Hermes had always known that the thing that eventually forced him to reveal his silly little trick would be something so shocking that he truly couldn’t hide it anymore. He had never thought it would be one of the sweetest and most confusing compliments he had ever received.
He took a deep breath and moved away from the hand that was still holding loosely the end of his scarf. “Boss,” he said, instantly apologetic. “I’ve… I’ve been able to understand you for centuries. Now, before you get mad, it did take me a while. And then I realized all the things you were saying and knew that you’d never say them if you knew I could understand. Trust me, they were some of the funniest things I’d ever heard. It was nothing more than a harmless little trick, I swear. I just… didn’t want you to censor yourself for my sake.”
It was hardly harmless, in the grand scheme of things. It had hurt Hermes and from the dimness of Charon’s eyes, it had hurt him too. Then again, when had his tricks turned out well for anyone involved? Well, usually they were at least satisfying for him. This one wasn’t.
“I thought, you know, eventually I’d tell you and you’d get all embarrassed and then…” he trailed off. He didn’t have a way of ending that sentence without revealing everything. His ideal ending, a naïve thought, was that he’d tell Charon that he enjoyed listening to his speak with such freedom, that he liked him, wanted to be around him, and he get some kind of happy ending. That was impossible, in hindsight. “Actually, I’m really sorry, boss. I didn’t really expect it to turn out like this.”
Charon was fuming, literally, and looking in every direction but at Hermes. His oar was in his hand, the wood creaking under the force of his grip. If it snapped, Hermes wouldn’t be surprised, but he would certainly be more than a little terrified. Charon’s next series of moans and groans were quiet, pained and Hermes couldn’t help but feel bad despite everything.
If what I said has made you uncomfortable, then I am more than happy for you to go back to pretending you couldn’t understand me.
After the guilt disappeared, all there stayed behind was confusion. Charon’s earlier words sunk in again, forgotten in the haste of his useless apology. “Charon, you called me beautiful,” he said, cheeks hot and eyebrows raised.
Charon turned away, apparently happier to watch the river than face whatever this was. But he nodded anyway, minutely, a barely there admission of the truth.
“But… But you… You don’t…” For once, word were impossible. He grunted in frustration and tried again. “I was there! When Thanatos— You told him! You told him you didn’t—”
He was interrupted by Charon grabbing his wrist, eyes on him once again. You were there for that? Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?
Hermes hissed in a breath. He’d thought he’d at least been subtle. Apparently not. Charon’s hand was cool against his wrist. At any other time, he would have tried to devote the feeling to memory. “I needed space. It hurt, you know, hearing you say that. I thought we were at least friends, and I never really gave much thought to anything more than that, even though it’s… It’s what I wanted.”
The silence that followed was sickening. Hermes squeezed his eyes shut and tried to pull his hand away, but Charon’s strong grip put a stop to that. He didn’t dare open his eyes, not wanting to see the pity his professional associate was no doubt staring at him with.
A stuttered groan caught his attention, but he still didn’t open his eyes. I’m Chthonic, Charon said, as if the words pained him. You’re Olympian.
Hermes frowned, nose scrunching, unsure of what exactly Charon was trying to tell him. None of it made sense. “While I’m glad your observational skills are up to par, boss, I don’t see what this has to do with anything,” he replied.
When he finally opened his eyes, the look on Charon’s face was far from impressed. In any other situation, Hermes would have been amused. In the current one, he was just in pain.
Thanatos took notice of the way I… looked at you. He was concerned. Those of the Underworld are not supposed to have meaningful relationships with Olympians. It is dangerous. Charon took a long moment between words to stare up at Hermes, expression open in a way he had never seen before. I told him what I did to keep us both safe, not that I knew you… No one could ever know what I feel for you.
“What you feel for me?”
Love.
Hermes choked on a laugh, the sound high-pitched and near hysterical. Painful hope bloomed in his chest. Thanatos hadn’t noticed Hermes’s feelings, he’d noticed Charon’s. That somehow made more sense and absolutely none at the same time.
It couldn’t be true, but why would Charon lie? This magnificent, beautiful being, more powerful and older than Hermes by far, loved him? Truly? And Hermes had spent so long avoiding him over a lie, over his own silly little trick, instead of just asking.
Then again, who would ever have the courage to simply ask?
“You…” he said, but no other words would come out. Gingerly, Charon’s hand fell from his wrist and the boatman turned away, using his hat shielding his embarrassment from view. “Hey, no you don’t.”
Hermes reached out and cupped Charon’s cheek. The skin was rough under his palm, but cool. He wanted to keep his hand there forever. All he could was smile and lean in, pressing the tiniest of kisses to Charon’s other cheek. At the shocked little noise he got in response, he did it again, moving from cheek to forehead to chin until every kiss was interrupted by joyful laughter.
A hand grasped the scarf again, keeping him rooted in place even though for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to go flying off elsewhere. Charon leaned in and pressed cool teeth to his cheek in return. An unconventional kiss, but one he wanted to repeat for as long as he possibly could.
“I can’t believe…” he muttered, grinning brighter than he had in months. “I truly thought you’d never want anything to do with me, not in anyway that mattered, that is.”
The noise Charon let out was weak, pained, and apologetic. Before Hermes could say anything else, he was being tugged forward by the scarf until he pressed against Charon’s shoulder. Strong arms wrapped around him, bathing him in the black of his robes. Hermes made a noise in the back of his throat and held on in return, bunching the fabric in his fists.
The smile that graced his face didn’t fade for hours.
We’ll have to be careful, Charon groaned into his shoulder. No one can know.
“I know. Trust me, boss, I’m good at keep secrets,” he replied, giggling at the scoff Charon let out in return.
I’m well aware now. I’m glad though… that you can understand me.
Hermes hummed and shuffled ever closer, burying his face in Charon’s hair. “So am I,” he whispered and kissed whatever part of him he could reach. “Just promise me something, don’t censor yourself because I know what you’re saying now. That’s the last thing I want. Your potty mouth is the highlight of my days.”
The sound Charon let out wasn’t a word, not in the slightest, but a sound of such intense embarrassment that Hermes couldn’t help but laugh. He felt light and airy, like he could float away at any given moment. His mind was still reeling and he’d need time later to think about everything that had happened (and talk it through properly with Charon), but for the moment all he wanted to do was bask in the glow.
When they eventually pulled away, Hermes took great delight in detailing Charon on all the things he’d heard the boatman say of the years, much to Charon’s chagrin.