![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
marycrawfordThis is the fourth thing that never happened to Iolaus. If you came in late: you don't have to have read the other parts to read this one, and I'll post the fifth and last part tomorrow. Comments very welcome.
Five Things That Never Happened to Iolaus of Thebes, part IV.
Gen. Ish. Rated PG.
(Part I)
(Part II)
(Part III)
(Part V)
Five Things That Never Happened to Iolaus of Thebes
IV.
It's nearly midnight when their ship docks at Piraeus, and none of their friends meet them at the dock, so there's nobody to notice that Hercules is looking a little pale, though not as pale as Iolaus. The shipmaster doesn't look at either of them, he just takes their dinars and clutches a belaying pin tightly in his other hand until they leave the ship.
They make their way out of Piraeus quickly and head for the slopes of Hymettos, where the pines grow thick and dark.
"We should make camp," Hercules says, when the birds start singing paeans to the dawn.
Iolaus pauses, half-hidden in the gloom. "Oh. Yeah."
They fall into their routine quickly enough: Hercules gathers firewood, Iolaus digs a fire pit, and Hercules unpacks their stuff while Iolaus goes deeper into the woods to hunt. When Iolaus comes back with a brace of cleaned and dressed rabbits dangling from his sword belt and bright spots of color in his cheeks, Hercules breathes out, trying to feel relieved.
The roast rabbit tastes pretty good with some wild onions. Iolaus has his portion raw, and he doesn't eat much, but neither of them mentions it.
After dinner, Iolaus pokes at the fire in a desultory way while Hercules lays out their bedrolls.
"What are we going to do when someone asks for your help?" Iolaus says at last, his voice so casual that Hercules knows he's worried.
"We'll go," Hercules says, sitting down on his own bedroll. "Like we always do."
Iolaus snorts. "Yeah, right."
"I'm serious."
Iolaus whips around, bares his teeth like a cat. "Oh, yeah? What about these?"
"You can retract them. Stop being so difficult."
"Oh, now I'm being difficult. Well excuse me, but if you had killed me like I asked you to, none of this would be a problem."
Hercules takes a deep breath. "Can we not discuss that again?"
"You only say that when you know I'm right," Iolaus says, but he's bending down to stoke the fire and his voice is low enough that Hercules can ignore him.
Hercules doesn't fall asleep for a long while; it's hard to ignore the birdsong, the bright blue sky far above the pines, and the way Iolaus keeps rolling over in his bedroll and muttering to himself.
"Trouble sleeping?" Hercules says, when Iolaus rolls his way again.
"The light hurts," Iolaus mutters, and Hercules sighs.
"We could start sleeping indoors more," he offers. "Caves. Inns."
"Palaces?" Iolaus' grin is forced, but Hercules is still glad to see it. "Sure."
Iolaus pulls the edge of his bedroll over his head. "Corinth, here we come."
It's easier in Corinth, where they can stay indoors during the day and sleep at night like normal people, though it's awkward having to explain to Iphicles, and far too many people give them worried looks that remind Hercules of the looks he got when he was traveling with the jester.
At dinner, Hercules wonders if Iphicles ever has a quiet meal with a couple of friends instead of dozens of courtiers and a visiting king or two. He can barely see Iphicles, hidden as he is behind the elaborate headdresses of the Parthian king's sisters, but he can feel his brother glowering at him and Iolaus all the way across the room. Ignoring him as best as possible, Hercules sips his wine, a very good Cretan red that goes down like velvet, and spears another quail egg. At least there are some advantages to life at court.
Iolaus is seated between the Parthian king's youngest sister and his master of horse. Both tower over him, and their headdresses clash together when they bend to catch Iolaus' whispers, making him giggle. Hercules smiles, watching Iolaus flirt with them both between bites of rare roast beef. Iphicles can glower all he wants, but Iolaus is clearly not doing anything to hurt the trade talks with the Parthians. In the candle light, Iolaus' pallor is barely noticeable, and his eyes are as bright as ever.
After dinner, Iphicles asks him to stay behind and talk to Arsakes, the Parthian king, who calls him Herkles and wants to know if he can breed his horses to Hercules' famous flying stallion. It goes pretty much downhill from there, and after a while Iphicles proclaims that Hercules must be very tired and lets him make his getaway.
When Hercules finally climbs up the stone stairs to their bedchamber, he's a little surprised to find Iolaus already there, alone and clearly not in the best of moods.
"Iphicles thinks I'm going to bite someone," Iolaus says, sitting on the edge of the feather bed and stripping off his gauntlets with jerky movements. "I can tell." One of the straps won't budge, and he curses between his teeth. Those claws aren't handy for everything, Hercules thinks, careful not to say it out loud.
Instead, he sits down on the bed next to Iolaus. "Here, let me." Iolaus looks away from him as he deals with the stiff leather.
The gauntlet falls to the floor. "Thanks." Iolaus is still looking the other way, his hair a curtain between them.
"Why are you mad, exactly?" Hercules asks.
Iolaus snorts. "Who said I was? It's not like anything disturbing happened to me recently."
"Look at me," Hercules says. Iolaus shoves away from him, nearly falling off the bed, and then finally turns his head. He looks feverish, his eyes burning, his lips nearly white.
Hercules exhales. "You're hungry." Hungry is a mild word for it; Iolaus looks one step away from violent stomach cramps followed by unconsciousness.
"Yes," Iolaus hisses, "I'm hungry. So what?"
Hercules eyes him. "You had all that roast beef for dinner." Iolaus always had the appetite of a pack of hunting dogs, but he shouldn't be this hungry, this soon. Unless...
Iolaus catches his look, pales further, and is nearly out the door when Hercules tackles him.
"You should have said something," Hercules says, pinning Iolaus to the floor. Iolaus twists beneath him like an eel, but he manages to hold on, watching Iolaus' claws flex as he tries to free his wrists without ripping into Hercules.
"Like what?" Iolaus bucks beneath him, and then twists his hips one way and his knees another way, and suddenly he's the one on top.
"Oof," Hercules says as Iolaus elbows him in the stomach. "Like... It's not working?"
Iolaus closes his eyes. "Fine. You got it. Eating meat's not working. If I don't go out and kill something every day, I'll probably starve to death. Which is the best solution anyway." He opens his eyes, staring down at Hercules challengingly. "Happy now?"
"You know it doesn't have to be that way," Hercules says quietly.
Iolaus glares at him. "Yes, it does. If you think I'm going to--" He looks away again.
Hercules swallows. "I don't mind."
"Well, I do."
Hercules touches Iolaus' shoulder, gently. "Does it sicken you, to feed?" He can imagine it all too easily. What kind of monster is he, anyway, trying to force Iolaus to drink his blood?
Iolaus mutters something.
"What?"
"I said, no."
Hercules stares at him. "No, what?"
Suddenly Iolaus presses close, blazing eyes staring into his. "No, it's not sickening, it's just..." He bites his lip. "It's really, really good. You-- your blood, the way you taste--" He shudders, his nostrils flaring.
"Take it," Hercules says, and leans his head back, offering his throat.
Five Things That Never Happened to Iolaus of Thebes, part IV.
Gen. Ish. Rated PG.
(Part I)
(Part II)
(Part III)
(Part V)
Five Things That Never Happened to Iolaus of Thebes
IV.
It's nearly midnight when their ship docks at Piraeus, and none of their friends meet them at the dock, so there's nobody to notice that Hercules is looking a little pale, though not as pale as Iolaus. The shipmaster doesn't look at either of them, he just takes their dinars and clutches a belaying pin tightly in his other hand until they leave the ship.
They make their way out of Piraeus quickly and head for the slopes of Hymettos, where the pines grow thick and dark.
"We should make camp," Hercules says, when the birds start singing paeans to the dawn.
Iolaus pauses, half-hidden in the gloom. "Oh. Yeah."
They fall into their routine quickly enough: Hercules gathers firewood, Iolaus digs a fire pit, and Hercules unpacks their stuff while Iolaus goes deeper into the woods to hunt. When Iolaus comes back with a brace of cleaned and dressed rabbits dangling from his sword belt and bright spots of color in his cheeks, Hercules breathes out, trying to feel relieved.
The roast rabbit tastes pretty good with some wild onions. Iolaus has his portion raw, and he doesn't eat much, but neither of them mentions it.
After dinner, Iolaus pokes at the fire in a desultory way while Hercules lays out their bedrolls.
"What are we going to do when someone asks for your help?" Iolaus says at last, his voice so casual that Hercules knows he's worried.
"We'll go," Hercules says, sitting down on his own bedroll. "Like we always do."
Iolaus snorts. "Yeah, right."
"I'm serious."
Iolaus whips around, bares his teeth like a cat. "Oh, yeah? What about these?"
"You can retract them. Stop being so difficult."
"Oh, now I'm being difficult. Well excuse me, but if you had killed me like I asked you to, none of this would be a problem."
Hercules takes a deep breath. "Can we not discuss that again?"
"You only say that when you know I'm right," Iolaus says, but he's bending down to stoke the fire and his voice is low enough that Hercules can ignore him.
Hercules doesn't fall asleep for a long while; it's hard to ignore the birdsong, the bright blue sky far above the pines, and the way Iolaus keeps rolling over in his bedroll and muttering to himself.
"Trouble sleeping?" Hercules says, when Iolaus rolls his way again.
"The light hurts," Iolaus mutters, and Hercules sighs.
"We could start sleeping indoors more," he offers. "Caves. Inns."
"Palaces?" Iolaus' grin is forced, but Hercules is still glad to see it. "Sure."
Iolaus pulls the edge of his bedroll over his head. "Corinth, here we come."
It's easier in Corinth, where they can stay indoors during the day and sleep at night like normal people, though it's awkward having to explain to Iphicles, and far too many people give them worried looks that remind Hercules of the looks he got when he was traveling with the jester.
At dinner, Hercules wonders if Iphicles ever has a quiet meal with a couple of friends instead of dozens of courtiers and a visiting king or two. He can barely see Iphicles, hidden as he is behind the elaborate headdresses of the Parthian king's sisters, but he can feel his brother glowering at him and Iolaus all the way across the room. Ignoring him as best as possible, Hercules sips his wine, a very good Cretan red that goes down like velvet, and spears another quail egg. At least there are some advantages to life at court.
Iolaus is seated between the Parthian king's youngest sister and his master of horse. Both tower over him, and their headdresses clash together when they bend to catch Iolaus' whispers, making him giggle. Hercules smiles, watching Iolaus flirt with them both between bites of rare roast beef. Iphicles can glower all he wants, but Iolaus is clearly not doing anything to hurt the trade talks with the Parthians. In the candle light, Iolaus' pallor is barely noticeable, and his eyes are as bright as ever.
After dinner, Iphicles asks him to stay behind and talk to Arsakes, the Parthian king, who calls him Herkles and wants to know if he can breed his horses to Hercules' famous flying stallion. It goes pretty much downhill from there, and after a while Iphicles proclaims that Hercules must be very tired and lets him make his getaway.
When Hercules finally climbs up the stone stairs to their bedchamber, he's a little surprised to find Iolaus already there, alone and clearly not in the best of moods.
"Iphicles thinks I'm going to bite someone," Iolaus says, sitting on the edge of the feather bed and stripping off his gauntlets with jerky movements. "I can tell." One of the straps won't budge, and he curses between his teeth. Those claws aren't handy for everything, Hercules thinks, careful not to say it out loud.
Instead, he sits down on the bed next to Iolaus. "Here, let me." Iolaus looks away from him as he deals with the stiff leather.
The gauntlet falls to the floor. "Thanks." Iolaus is still looking the other way, his hair a curtain between them.
"Why are you mad, exactly?" Hercules asks.
Iolaus snorts. "Who said I was? It's not like anything disturbing happened to me recently."
"Look at me," Hercules says. Iolaus shoves away from him, nearly falling off the bed, and then finally turns his head. He looks feverish, his eyes burning, his lips nearly white.
Hercules exhales. "You're hungry." Hungry is a mild word for it; Iolaus looks one step away from violent stomach cramps followed by unconsciousness.
"Yes," Iolaus hisses, "I'm hungry. So what?"
Hercules eyes him. "You had all that roast beef for dinner." Iolaus always had the appetite of a pack of hunting dogs, but he shouldn't be this hungry, this soon. Unless...
Iolaus catches his look, pales further, and is nearly out the door when Hercules tackles him.
"You should have said something," Hercules says, pinning Iolaus to the floor. Iolaus twists beneath him like an eel, but he manages to hold on, watching Iolaus' claws flex as he tries to free his wrists without ripping into Hercules.
"Like what?" Iolaus bucks beneath him, and then twists his hips one way and his knees another way, and suddenly he's the one on top.
"Oof," Hercules says as Iolaus elbows him in the stomach. "Like... It's not working?"
Iolaus closes his eyes. "Fine. You got it. Eating meat's not working. If I don't go out and kill something every day, I'll probably starve to death. Which is the best solution anyway." He opens his eyes, staring down at Hercules challengingly. "Happy now?"
"You know it doesn't have to be that way," Hercules says quietly.
Iolaus glares at him. "Yes, it does. If you think I'm going to--" He looks away again.
Hercules swallows. "I don't mind."
"Well, I do."
Hercules touches Iolaus' shoulder, gently. "Does it sicken you, to feed?" He can imagine it all too easily. What kind of monster is he, anyway, trying to force Iolaus to drink his blood?
Iolaus mutters something.
"What?"
"I said, no."
Hercules stares at him. "No, what?"
Suddenly Iolaus presses close, blazing eyes staring into his. "No, it's not sickening, it's just..." He bites his lip. "It's really, really good. You-- your blood, the way you taste--" He shudders, his nostrils flaring.
"Take it," Hercules says, and leans his head back, offering his throat.