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marycrawfordHere's the second of the things that never happened to Iolaus.
Five Things That Never Happened to Iolaus of Thebes, part II.
Mild slash, Hercules/Iolaus, rated PG.
(Part I)
(Part III)
(Part IV)
(Part V)
Five Things That Never Happened to Iolaus of Thebes
II.
Iolaus orders his henchmen to take Zeno to a healer and Thanatos' body to the catacombs, then enters the Prancing Satyr alone, warily. When nobody jumps him, he exhales and closes the doors behind him. Then he starts to grin.
"You comfortable up there?" he calls, looking up.
A pause. "Not very."
The ropes creak as the fishing nets sway, but they hold. It's hard to see in the gloom, but Iolaus catches glimpses of a yellow shirt and strands of long brown hair.
"Sorry about that," Iolaus says. He turns the winch and watches the bundle of nets descend until they hit the floor with a muffled thud. "Better now?"
Hercules' expression, what Iolaus can see of it, is surprisingly unruffled. Iolaus notices that he hasn't even tried to free himself, and his good mood begins to evaporate. Why did he even waste a trap on this guy?
"I'm not your enemy," Hercules says just as Iolaus opens his mouth. "I just want to talk to you, help you remember."
"There's nothing I need to remember," Iolaus snarls. Fed up, he draws his sword, but it's the same thing all over again. He can't even aim it at Hercules without getting the shakes, and Hercules just lies there, entangled in rope and looking up at him with a stupidly trusting expression.
Iolaus hefts the sword, whirls it round, and slices through the netting, nearly getting his sword stuck in the wooden floor from the force of the blow.
"Thanks," Hercules says with a small smile, and untangles himself with suspicious ease. Iolaus stands there watching him, sword pointing at the floor, and tries to look like he has some idea what to do next.
"Look," Hercules says, his hands at his sides and looking as unthreatening as a guy his size possibly can, "I know you have trouble believing this, but you're my best friend, and we've been together since you were fifteen." He sighs at Iolaus' look, and adds, "And Fortune took your memory away so you don't remember any of that, but it's true."
Iolaus can't picture it. Well, part of it he can picture, but he's trying not to distract himself. Apparently his body remembers a thing or two about Hercules, even if he doesn't. That makes Hercules' story a lot more likely, except for that idiotic bit about Fortune. The guy must be really superstitious; a lot of hitmen are. Probably Iolaus just got hit on the head or something, and they got separated for a while.
"So we work together, and clearly you're the muscle and I'm the brains of the outfit," Iolaus says, stroking his chin as he tries to work it out. Hercules is looking at him somewhat oddly, but at least he has the sense not to interrupt. "We got hired to protect the gold, and I threw a spoke in the wheel when I lost my memory and signed up with Zeno instead. Well, you delivered the gold, so that part's taken care of, and now we can finish the job for Zeno and get it back."
"It's in a vault by now," Hercules says, as if that means anything. Iolaus sheathes his sword meaningfully, then crosses his arms and stares him down.
"Sorry," the big guy says meekly. "I'm sure you've got a plan. After all, you're the one with the brains."
There's something off about his tone, and Iolaus stares at him very hard -- he can't have his partner mocking him, no matter how many years they've supposedly been together -- but Hercules' expression is as bland as milk.
"I'll think of something," Iolaus says, and begins to pace. "You just watch my back."
"I usually do," Hercules says, watching him with a fond smile.
"So where were you when I got hit on the head and lost my memory?" Iolaus shakes his head at Hercules' surprised look. "Never mind, just don't let it happen again. And don't put too much trust in Fortune, okay? You make your own luck."
"Is that right?" an unfamiliar female voice says, and the air shimmers with falling gold.
Iolaus' mouth drops open, and he stops pacing. "Who in Tartarus are you?" The woman is decked in gold coins and red brocade, her hair wound in outlandish braids, and she's sitting on top of the bar like she has a right to be there, let alone appear out of thin air.
"I'm Fortune!" the woman says, sounding like an outraged aunt. Her expression softens when she looks at Iolaus. "Ohhh, that's right, you don't remember. Well. I'm here to help with that, so don't you worry."
Iolaus sneaks a glance at Hercules, who looks surprisingly wary.
"Fortune," Hercules says, his brows drawing down, "are you sure about this?"
The woman -- Fortune -- lifts her chin. "Sure I'm sure!" She pauses, tapping a finger against her upper lip. "I think. Yeah. Sure! What could go wrong?"
Hercules winces, but Fortune takes no notice. She spins a coin up into the air, and the glimmer of it is mesmerizing as it spins up and then down, end over end, smack into her palm.
"That's done it," she says, looking satisfied.
Iolaus waits for a heartbeat, but nothing happens. "Done what?" he asks.
"What just happened?" Hercules asks. He looks from Fortune to Iolaus, frowning. "I'm sorry - do I know you?"
"Uh-oh," Fortune says, and vanishes.
***
Getting the gold out of the Nemean council's vault is surprisingly easy, especially after Hercules deviates from Iolaus' plan by picking up a guard in each hand and using them as clubs to hit the other guards with. They make a good team, Iolaus thinks as they amble back to the Prancing Satyr, Hercules carrying the sacks of gold on his broad shoulders. No wonder Fortune tried to split them up.
Well, Iolaus isn't going to let that happen, and he's not going to let a little memory loss stop him from taking over Nemea, either. The town's ripe for it, the magistrates as rotten as all the rest, leaving too many kids starving in the streets. Iolaus remembers what that's like all too well, and almost wishes Fortune had taken those memories away, too.
The Prancing Satyr is still deserted, and Iolaus makes sure the doors are locked before he shows Hercules the hidden cellars where Zeno and he keep the books.
"What are we going to do with it?" Hercules asks as he dumps the jingling sacks onto the stone floor, looking at them as if he's never seen that much money in all his life. Iolaus has to grin. He probably hasn't, and even if he has, he doesn't remember it. Iolaus has a suspicion, though, that Hercules and he had fallen on hard times recently, even before Fortune tried to split them up. It would explain a thing or two.
"First?" Iolaus says, stepping closer to run a hand over Hercules' deerskin vest, "We need to get you better clothes."
Hercules looks perplexed and a little huffy. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
Iolaus quirks a smile at him. "First of all, it's yellow, and it stands out a mile. You're big enough as it is without turning yourself into a dartboard. Second, what's with the tassels?" He tugs at one of them, and Hercules gives him a bemused look. "Third, you've got the body to carry off the mad, bad, and dangerous look in a way Thanatos never could, and as my lieutenant-"
"Your lieutenant?" Hercules raises a brow.
"My captain," Iolaus amends instantly. "My friend. My sword arm, my right hand. Okay?" He holds his breath.
Hercules looks thoughtful, and Iolaus rocks onto the balls of his feet, grabs Hercules' hair to pull him down, and kisses him.
"Ow," Hercules says after a little while, and Iolaus lets go of his hair, but doesn't stop kissing him until he forgets to breathe. Then he falls back a step, flushed and tense and hopeful, and Hercules smiles at him. "Okay."
***
With Hercules' help, Iolaus runs the five rival gangs out of the city by the end of the year. Many of the men sign on with him instead. So do all the street kids, whom Iolaus calls his new recruits. They're invaluable spies: they can go everywhere, see everything, and they know Iolaus was once one of them, so they even trust him a little.
The city council never steps down, but Iolaus doesn't want them to. Let the citizens of Nemea go to the council with their petty complaints about their neighbors or the war tax or the price of hops; Iolaus doesn't have time to deal with it, and bribes the council to do it for him. Zeno sits on the council too, these days, looking very much the part of an elder statesman, and keeps the rest of them in line. After a while, when everything is running smoothly, Iolaus begins to get bored, and his recruits begin to get restless.
The Prancing Satyr is very crowded, as it is every night, and Iolaus sits at his table in the back, brooding.
"What's on your mind?" Hercules says. The ring of Iolaus' bodyguards parts for him, and he sets two mugs of ale and a bowl of salted almonds on the table and sits down next to Iolaus. Hercules isn't wearing armor tonight, just a dark blue silk chiton and a white wool chlamys, and he's a warm, solid presence at Iolaus' side.
Iolaus takes a sip of the dark ale. "Mycenae." He doesn't explain; with Hercules, he never needs to.
"They say the walls of Mycenae were built by Cyclopes." Hercules doesn't look worried by the prospect.
Iolaus nudges his shoulder. "Or maybe we should take Corinth first. You think?"
Hercules shakes his head. "Not if Jason's still king there."
Iolaus looks at him. "And who's Jason?"
"A guy I was in the Academy with," Hercules says, in that forcedly casual tone they both use when they talk about the few memories they have left. Typical of Hercules, to never even mention that he knows any kings. That could come in handy, later.
"All right. Not Corinth, then." Iolaus lifts his mug and toasts Hercules with it. "Mycenae."
"Mycenae," Hercules echoes. "And then?"
Iolaus grins. "And then the world."
Five Things That Never Happened to Iolaus of Thebes, part II.
Mild slash, Hercules/Iolaus, rated PG.
(Part I)
(Part III)
(Part IV)
(Part V)
Five Things That Never Happened to Iolaus of Thebes
II.
Iolaus orders his henchmen to take Zeno to a healer and Thanatos' body to the catacombs, then enters the Prancing Satyr alone, warily. When nobody jumps him, he exhales and closes the doors behind him. Then he starts to grin.
"You comfortable up there?" he calls, looking up.
A pause. "Not very."
The ropes creak as the fishing nets sway, but they hold. It's hard to see in the gloom, but Iolaus catches glimpses of a yellow shirt and strands of long brown hair.
"Sorry about that," Iolaus says. He turns the winch and watches the bundle of nets descend until they hit the floor with a muffled thud. "Better now?"
Hercules' expression, what Iolaus can see of it, is surprisingly unruffled. Iolaus notices that he hasn't even tried to free himself, and his good mood begins to evaporate. Why did he even waste a trap on this guy?
"I'm not your enemy," Hercules says just as Iolaus opens his mouth. "I just want to talk to you, help you remember."
"There's nothing I need to remember," Iolaus snarls. Fed up, he draws his sword, but it's the same thing all over again. He can't even aim it at Hercules without getting the shakes, and Hercules just lies there, entangled in rope and looking up at him with a stupidly trusting expression.
Iolaus hefts the sword, whirls it round, and slices through the netting, nearly getting his sword stuck in the wooden floor from the force of the blow.
"Thanks," Hercules says with a small smile, and untangles himself with suspicious ease. Iolaus stands there watching him, sword pointing at the floor, and tries to look like he has some idea what to do next.
"Look," Hercules says, his hands at his sides and looking as unthreatening as a guy his size possibly can, "I know you have trouble believing this, but you're my best friend, and we've been together since you were fifteen." He sighs at Iolaus' look, and adds, "And Fortune took your memory away so you don't remember any of that, but it's true."
Iolaus can't picture it. Well, part of it he can picture, but he's trying not to distract himself. Apparently his body remembers a thing or two about Hercules, even if he doesn't. That makes Hercules' story a lot more likely, except for that idiotic bit about Fortune. The guy must be really superstitious; a lot of hitmen are. Probably Iolaus just got hit on the head or something, and they got separated for a while.
"So we work together, and clearly you're the muscle and I'm the brains of the outfit," Iolaus says, stroking his chin as he tries to work it out. Hercules is looking at him somewhat oddly, but at least he has the sense not to interrupt. "We got hired to protect the gold, and I threw a spoke in the wheel when I lost my memory and signed up with Zeno instead. Well, you delivered the gold, so that part's taken care of, and now we can finish the job for Zeno and get it back."
"It's in a vault by now," Hercules says, as if that means anything. Iolaus sheathes his sword meaningfully, then crosses his arms and stares him down.
"Sorry," the big guy says meekly. "I'm sure you've got a plan. After all, you're the one with the brains."
There's something off about his tone, and Iolaus stares at him very hard -- he can't have his partner mocking him, no matter how many years they've supposedly been together -- but Hercules' expression is as bland as milk.
"I'll think of something," Iolaus says, and begins to pace. "You just watch my back."
"I usually do," Hercules says, watching him with a fond smile.
"So where were you when I got hit on the head and lost my memory?" Iolaus shakes his head at Hercules' surprised look. "Never mind, just don't let it happen again. And don't put too much trust in Fortune, okay? You make your own luck."
"Is that right?" an unfamiliar female voice says, and the air shimmers with falling gold.
Iolaus' mouth drops open, and he stops pacing. "Who in Tartarus are you?" The woman is decked in gold coins and red brocade, her hair wound in outlandish braids, and she's sitting on top of the bar like she has a right to be there, let alone appear out of thin air.
"I'm Fortune!" the woman says, sounding like an outraged aunt. Her expression softens when she looks at Iolaus. "Ohhh, that's right, you don't remember. Well. I'm here to help with that, so don't you worry."
Iolaus sneaks a glance at Hercules, who looks surprisingly wary.
"Fortune," Hercules says, his brows drawing down, "are you sure about this?"
The woman -- Fortune -- lifts her chin. "Sure I'm sure!" She pauses, tapping a finger against her upper lip. "I think. Yeah. Sure! What could go wrong?"
Hercules winces, but Fortune takes no notice. She spins a coin up into the air, and the glimmer of it is mesmerizing as it spins up and then down, end over end, smack into her palm.
"That's done it," she says, looking satisfied.
Iolaus waits for a heartbeat, but nothing happens. "Done what?" he asks.
"What just happened?" Hercules asks. He looks from Fortune to Iolaus, frowning. "I'm sorry - do I know you?"
"Uh-oh," Fortune says, and vanishes.
***
Getting the gold out of the Nemean council's vault is surprisingly easy, especially after Hercules deviates from Iolaus' plan by picking up a guard in each hand and using them as clubs to hit the other guards with. They make a good team, Iolaus thinks as they amble back to the Prancing Satyr, Hercules carrying the sacks of gold on his broad shoulders. No wonder Fortune tried to split them up.
Well, Iolaus isn't going to let that happen, and he's not going to let a little memory loss stop him from taking over Nemea, either. The town's ripe for it, the magistrates as rotten as all the rest, leaving too many kids starving in the streets. Iolaus remembers what that's like all too well, and almost wishes Fortune had taken those memories away, too.
The Prancing Satyr is still deserted, and Iolaus makes sure the doors are locked before he shows Hercules the hidden cellars where Zeno and he keep the books.
"What are we going to do with it?" Hercules asks as he dumps the jingling sacks onto the stone floor, looking at them as if he's never seen that much money in all his life. Iolaus has to grin. He probably hasn't, and even if he has, he doesn't remember it. Iolaus has a suspicion, though, that Hercules and he had fallen on hard times recently, even before Fortune tried to split them up. It would explain a thing or two.
"First?" Iolaus says, stepping closer to run a hand over Hercules' deerskin vest, "We need to get you better clothes."
Hercules looks perplexed and a little huffy. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
Iolaus quirks a smile at him. "First of all, it's yellow, and it stands out a mile. You're big enough as it is without turning yourself into a dartboard. Second, what's with the tassels?" He tugs at one of them, and Hercules gives him a bemused look. "Third, you've got the body to carry off the mad, bad, and dangerous look in a way Thanatos never could, and as my lieutenant-"
"Your lieutenant?" Hercules raises a brow.
"My captain," Iolaus amends instantly. "My friend. My sword arm, my right hand. Okay?" He holds his breath.
Hercules looks thoughtful, and Iolaus rocks onto the balls of his feet, grabs Hercules' hair to pull him down, and kisses him.
"Ow," Hercules says after a little while, and Iolaus lets go of his hair, but doesn't stop kissing him until he forgets to breathe. Then he falls back a step, flushed and tense and hopeful, and Hercules smiles at him. "Okay."
***
With Hercules' help, Iolaus runs the five rival gangs out of the city by the end of the year. Many of the men sign on with him instead. So do all the street kids, whom Iolaus calls his new recruits. They're invaluable spies: they can go everywhere, see everything, and they know Iolaus was once one of them, so they even trust him a little.
The city council never steps down, but Iolaus doesn't want them to. Let the citizens of Nemea go to the council with their petty complaints about their neighbors or the war tax or the price of hops; Iolaus doesn't have time to deal with it, and bribes the council to do it for him. Zeno sits on the council too, these days, looking very much the part of an elder statesman, and keeps the rest of them in line. After a while, when everything is running smoothly, Iolaus begins to get bored, and his recruits begin to get restless.
The Prancing Satyr is very crowded, as it is every night, and Iolaus sits at his table in the back, brooding.
"What's on your mind?" Hercules says. The ring of Iolaus' bodyguards parts for him, and he sets two mugs of ale and a bowl of salted almonds on the table and sits down next to Iolaus. Hercules isn't wearing armor tonight, just a dark blue silk chiton and a white wool chlamys, and he's a warm, solid presence at Iolaus' side.
Iolaus takes a sip of the dark ale. "Mycenae." He doesn't explain; with Hercules, he never needs to.
"They say the walls of Mycenae were built by Cyclopes." Hercules doesn't look worried by the prospect.
Iolaus nudges his shoulder. "Or maybe we should take Corinth first. You think?"
Hercules shakes his head. "Not if Jason's still king there."
Iolaus looks at him. "And who's Jason?"
"A guy I was in the Academy with," Hercules says, in that forcedly casual tone they both use when they talk about the few memories they have left. Typical of Hercules, to never even mention that he knows any kings. That could come in handy, later.
"All right. Not Corinth, then." Iolaus lifts his mug and toasts Hercules with it. "Mycenae."
"Mycenae," Hercules echoes. "And then?"
Iolaus grins. "And then the world."