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Meg drummed her painted nails against the window of the carriage. Waiting. On the other side of the carriage curtains lay the hustle and bustle of tge outskirts of Athens. The sun was scorching hot this afternoon, the shadow of their transport barely helping with the heat accumulating inside.
It had been years since she'd stepped foot in this town, and boy had it expanded since last time. They’d already passed two giant agoras - two! - and they weren’t even halfway through town.
When the invitation to Prometheus Academy's high school reunion finally had made its way to their home (address forwarding was a bitch), Hercules had had less than one day to decide on whether he wanted to go.
Not only would it mean a disruption of their workday schedules, but the question of safety had been raised - being a public figure meant more eyes on them, for better or for worse.
Meg had thought this was a great idea - okay, maybe she'd gone a bit sick of the stench of fish after weeks out at sea - and had been eager to follow along once Hercules had made up his mind.
In her head, it would be like a bit of a vacation, getting out of town and spending some quality time with her favorite person.
Hercules didn’t seem to have the same vision for the weekend.
They had barely spoken since they left their house, tensions running high for reasons that Meg had yet to understand. At first she had thought that Wonderboy was just waiting for the right moment to speak but so far this theory had proven false - if anything, he seemed to have clammed up even harder as the minutes had worn on.
"You want to talk about it?" She finally asked, unable to hold out any longer.
She was greeted by silence, nothing but his loud breaths through his nose, his eyes boring holes right into the opposite seats.
"Really? Nothing?" She prodded, poking him in the side. "Gonna sit quiet during the entire trip?"
Like a spell just broke, Hercules snapped his head away from the tapestry, glancing back at her with a sheepish look. "I'm sorry, I'm just… nothing." He shrugged, and Meg was about to pull her hair out.
"Come on," she insisted, "It's not gonna be half as bad as you're imagining." Because that was the problem, right? Gods knew her own high school reunion would be a catastrophe - the Dionysos Academy for Royals in Thebes, and their bacchanals, were infamous for causing mayhem, especially on rallies.
Hercules swallowed. "You don't know that," he said in a small voice, and her heart ached for him.
"Babe. Please tell me," she said, reaching out to put one hand on his arm. She watched him make the decision, teeth worrying at his lip. His brow furrowed before he opened his mouth to speak.
"I just… worry," he eventually said.
Finally, they were getting somewhere.
"About?" Meg prompted, leaning in. The next words came out in a rush.
"What you'll find out about me. That I used to be the biggest loser."
Oh, now really, who did he think she was? "Babe–" Meg began, and got interrupted.
"I don't want them to make me feel like that, ever again." He said it with such force behind his words, cheeks flushing. "Like I'm nothing."
Of course. There hadn't been much talk of the past beyond the absolute necessary details, and though Meg had a vague idea of the teenage nightmare that Wonderboy had gone through, she was sure she had only scratched the surface on that one.
Meg squeezed his bicep, not quite sure what exactly she should say. She opted for the truth. "Honey… Wonderboy, you are not nothing."
Wonderboy let out a small huff. "Thanks." There was a hint of a smile, just what she needed.
"Besides, what could they possibly nag at you about?" She continued, spurred on by his reaction. Her voice went up an octave as she went on, "Ooh you're a successful and beloved star, and you're married to the hottest princess on mainland. Yeah, they’re gonna eat you alive." She snickered, but didn’t get a laugh in return.
"Come on," Hercules scoffed, his walls coming up again. He turned his gaze to the outside, peeking through the curtains.
Damn it.
Meg wanted to be better at open communication. She had surely become more fluent in the complex and sometimes bewildering language, but as was often the case, she found it easier to just keep hitting the hornet nest until something happened.
"You could always tell them that we're not exclusive," she continued conversationally, "and that you got like, five hot nymph girlfriends on the side–"
"Hey!" Hercules' head snapped back, glaring indignantly at her.
"Or you could tell them I'm pregnant with your tenth son, whatever will get them jealous–"
He interrupted her, clearly irritated now. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to lighten the mood."
"Yeah, well," he huffed, frustrated, "It's not working."
No shit. Meg sighed, turning to face him straight on. She attempted to hold his gaze, and he refused to meet hers. "Then tell me what the problem is."
Hercules' hands moved over the smooth fabric of his toga, evening out the creases and following the seams with his index finger. He stared at his hand's movement.
"You wouldn’t understand," he muttered, "miss Popular-glee-club-cheerleader."
Ok, we're heading into this kind of argument, Meg thought. He could deflect and project all he wanted but he was dealing with a master of the trade.
"Yeah, okay, so I could never understand," she said with a bit of dramatic drawl at the last words. "I can't understand unless you explain what you're worried about."
Looking a little guilty, Hercules started to pull at a loose thread, twinning it between his thumb and index finger. "I don't know how," he admitted. "You know I've struggled with all this… with self confidence and stuff. And this old fear of them making me feel small - It just returns as if no time has passed." He reached out his other hand, glancing up at her. "Feel my palm, it’s been clammy like this for an hour. Just knowing I have to be in the same room as them. Like. What if it isn’t even enough? They’re gonna see my accomplishments and still only gonna see the gangly geek whose only friends were the other losers and a goat?"
Pressing her lips together so as to not laugh at his tone while mentioning Phil, she took a deep breath to steady herself.
Then she reached out, hoping her touch would be as comforting for him as it would be for her, the other way around.
"Babe." She trailed her palm over his neck and up to his cheek, and he leaned into it, pressing a soft kiss to it. "Okay, time to stop for a bit. Right, look me in the eye and tell me this," she said, waiting until his eyes drifted up to meet hers. "Do you really think, if you push your fears aside, that anything tonight will change the way I think of you?"
Hercules scrunched his nose, surprised. "No. Gods no, of course not. It's just me being insecure–"
Meg nodded. "Exactly. And since you know that you can’t control or affect my image of you, don't you think it goes the same way for these assholes?"
"I," he started, mouth opening and closing. He had that adorable crease between his eyes that Meg always wanted to kiss.
"I mean that they’re gonna think what they think," she said. "And if they already decided on the picture of you as a loser, it doesn’t matter how many accomplishments you stack up to show them. They’re still gonna look at you and see what they want. You get me?"
Outside, they passed a restaurant district, the smells of seafood and wine penetrating the carriage. The soft background noises of merchants and guests filled the silence between them as Hercules processed her words. "Then what can I do?" He asked softly.
Relieved to be making progress, Meg dragged her hand through his soft curls, scraping at his scalp the way she knew would make him shiver. He relaxed into it, reaching out to hold onto her free hand.
"What you can do," Meg said, "is talk to those who you want to talk to, ignore the ones who deserve to be ignored." She kissed his cheek. "And as a plus, you can also show off your gorgeous trophy wife with the safe knowledge that she's got a late birthday present under her skimpy dress."
That had the expected result - cheeks flushing an adorable pink and his voice pitching into a nervous giggle. They were far from a platonic couple, but he still seemed to get surprised by her come-ons, which delighted her to no end. This was not an exception.
"Oh man," Hercules giggled softly, resting his head to the backrest of his seat.
"See? Doesn’t it feel better already?"
"Actually, it kind of does. Thank you."
Meg shrugged. "It's what I'm here for. And don't think this doesn’t go the other way around. I will one hundred percent show you off like the hot piece of ass you are in front of my old classmates."
His mischievous grin turned into a warm smile, the kind that he reserved especially for her. It was her favorite, and she could feel the way it dug into her chest and spread throughout her body, down to her toes. She wondered if she had one of those smiles made for him, too. She probably did.
"Fine," Hercules said, the lines around his eyes showing as he smiled. "I love you."
"I know. Love you, too. And I sure hope Cassandra is there because I think she only told me half of all the embarrassing stuff you did, last time."
"I'm gonna kill her," he muttered under his breath, the smile still playing on his lips.