In his long life, Zeus had had his fair share of women. To be fair, he'd had a lot of people's share of women and their share of men as well. But all of them turned out to be little more than fleeting trinkets to entertain and it wasn't long before he cast them aside and turned his attention back to one woman.
There had been other women before her, but for Zeus she'd always been the one he'd wanted most. For three hundred years he'd pined and lusted for her until finally deciding that he had to have her. It had been a good trick, pretending to be a poor injured cuckoo. Hera had gathered him up to her breast and then he'd turned back and taken her right there. She'd been so beautiful, so fierce and angry and defiant and it only made him love her all the more. She'd pretty much had to marry him then. Besides, marrying him made her Queen of Olympus and who could say no to that?
And after all this time it was still all about her. Even when he wanted to throttle Hera for her insolence and moodiness and sheer ability to be the biggest bitch on the face of the earth, she was still his. If anyone else ever tried to touch her he'd rip them apart, one limb at a time.
When Hera was gone, Zeus pined. He would never admit to it though, not even to her. Especially not to her. Hera was a vicious witch of a thing. (His vicious witch.)
He drew out bottles of Dionysus' wine and opened one to let it breathe, and then changed out of his work suit and into something a little less strict. The doorman had been given strict instructions to let Hera up immediately when she arrived and so he went out onto the balcony of his apartment, looking out over the city. Once he'd looked over the lowlands of Greece from the mountain, but now he had to make do with a penthouse apartment.
His phone buzzed on the table and Zeus went to check it, finding the message from his wife and walking over to make sure the elevator was unlocked. Already the lights above were telling him someone was travelling up and he knew it had to be her. So he poured a glass of wine and walked back over, the ding! of the elevator announcing the presence of Olympus' queen.
"Hello, dear," he said, passing her the wineglass. There was sarcasm in the tone of the word, petnames and terms of endearment not things Zeus truly used.