Thanatos (Jules Stevenson) (deathbecomeshim) wrote in olympian_rewind, @ 2010-10-20 20:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | jules stevenson, melpomene, melpomene smith, thanatos |
Mel and Jules and Hangover Cures and Stories Told
Who: Mel and Jules
What: A stood up muse looks for her missing date
Where: Jules’ Apartment
When: Day after the drinking with Hades. Oct 4th.
Warnings: Nudity.
He hadn't been at the piano shop as they'd planned. He wasn't answering his phone. And after Mel had chatted with the clerk, played every piano at least once, and killed plenty of time, it was time to move onto the next plan.
Find Jules herself.
So she went to his apartment, slipped inside, and went straight to his door. It was tempting to just pick the lock and go in, but he might ask if anyone remembered. So, she'd make a bit of a show this time. A brief adjustment of his hat on her head, and she knocked. Waited briefly. Then pounded. "Hey! Jules! You alive?"
If he didn't answer, then she'd pick the lock.
Jules groaned in pain as he tried to smother himself with his own pillow. Who was the one taking the sledge hammer to his front door? He hadn't answered his phone because he'd stuffed it in his freezer, and the alarm clock was lying in pieces on the floor beside his nightstand. The death god couldn't really remember when or how he got home from the club, but he knew he must have had a ton to drink. He had an absolutely killer hangover.
"Go 'way," he tried to say as loud as he could, though it really wasn't very because it was muffled by the pillow. "Nobody's home."
Pressing her ear to the door, Mel listened. She had good hearing, but really, who would be able to hear a muffle response from the bedroom under a pillow while standing at the front door? She was sure someone could, but it wasn't her.
So she waited for a moment more, then bent and started on the locks. If he proved not to be inside, at least maybe she'd find some hint about where else he could be. Hopefully he hadn't added a second, locked from inside only, lock to the main door.
Once she had it undone, she pounded again, to give him a final chance.
No response.
No one could say she didn't try. Opening the door, she went inside, slipping it closed behind her and turning the lock. Immediately she looked around the apartment, scanning for a dead body or some other horrible scene, before moving straight to the bed room. She pushed the door open, then stopped in the door frame, peering at the form curled up there. Choices, choices....
The muse only debated for a moment before she crawled onto the foot of the bed, then along it, and poked what she was assuming was his shoulder. Was he asleep?
The lump on the bed shuddered and flinched away from Mel's touch. "Go 'way," the pillow muffled voice said from beneath the mountain of covers in the darkened room. Up close, it was clear that whoever was buried under the bed had spent the night drowning in a night club of some sort, if the smell of expensive alcohol and cigarettes clinging to his body was any indication.
Mel frowned, but the pieces came together quickly. She had no intention of going away. Being passed out and not answering your phone because of a bout of inspiration would get you fed, and possibly a semi-cleaned apartment. Being hung over and missing an appointment.... Well, he was about to find out just what that would get him. It wasn't sympathy.
She considered for a few moments the numerous choices she had before her, then rolled off the edge of his bed and headed to his kitchen. There was the quiet sound of the fridge door opening and closing, and the sound of water running, and only a short bit later, she was returning.
Carefully, Mel climbed onto the bed and found the edge of the bed sheets. She crawled herself under them, and began to snuggle as close as she could to him. She sought, and found, a bit of bare of bare skin, and placed her hand against it.
As soon freezing cold hand touched bare, extremely warm skin, the cocooned figure in the bed jerked violently and sat bolt upright while trying to simultaneously move as quickly away from Mel as possible in an explosion of blankets and pillows. A litany of colorful expressions escaped Jules's lips in a mish-mash of english, greek, and lakota. He sat there in nothing except his boxers, with a red mark on his lower abdomen were a certain someone's ice cold hand had been placed as he looked around for the source of that hand.
To find the person, you'd have to follow the moving blankets. She'd watched his reaction, pleased with herself, and even enjoying the variety of the mix of languages that tumbled freely from him. But the moment she was sure he wasn't hurt, the muse was gathering the blankets and wrapping them about herself, tucking them under her weight with only her eyes peeking out at him from beneath his own hat. Somehow, Mel had kept it fairly well in place even as she laid claim to the warmth of his bed.
Once he had zeroed in on the figure now taking possession of is bed, Jules squinted his eyes to try and figure out who it was. It took a moment, but once he realized whose hat was on its head, there was only one name that came to mind. "Mel?" he said. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache starting to rise up now that his adrenaline levels were dropping. "What are you doing here?"
She pulled the blanket down just enough that her words were clear. "When I make a date, I keep it. And if I don't, I call. And if I don't call, I answer my phone when they do." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You're hung over." Though, he was also in just his boxers. She took the opportunity to scan him over as best she could from her position, as the bed and blanket thief.
"Date? What are you--Oh!" Jules's eyes widened as the realization finally dawned on him. "[Crap]" he muttered under his breath. Fortunately for him, the swear words in the greek language hadn't changed all that much over the last few thousand years, so his native, ancient explicitive sounded much the same as the modern equivalent. "I'm so sorry, Mel... I was out drinking with a friend last night when I got back from my business trip... and I honestly don't remember too much after I took off my tie. Everything is a blur. I didn't mean to miss our date. What time is it anyways?" He looked around futilely for his clock, which was still lying dead on the floor.
Slowly, Mel stuck her arm out from her little nest, giving him a chance to see her watch without her having to look at it herself. Her eyes were on him. Partly to see if he was telling the truth, partly because she knew what language he'd spoken in, and partly, well, because she could. "How many languages do you speak?" she questioned. "I know I heard greek..."
Jules leaned over to try and see what time her watch was reading. "How many? I guess a lot. My line of work, I run into a lot of different nationalities, and I've learned many languages over the years." He frowned and rubbed his eyes. "Shit... I slept nearly the entire day away."
Drawing her arm back, she glanced at the watch herself, then decided to release some of the blankets, at least enough to sit up. "You were supposed to meet me at three... What time did you get in?" She adjusted his hat on her head, and made a mental note about some follow up questions that might have to wait.
Than tried to get to his feet, but his the blinding pain of the migraine from his hangover took control and forced him to sit back on his bed. "I dunno," he muttered. "Don't even remember how I got back in here." He buried his face in his hands. Exactly how much did he have to drink at the club? He was afraid to text Hades and find out.
"We'll have to call your friend and ask if we want to know anything." She eyed him for a moment. "Doesn't look like you have any new tattoos at least, and no phone numbers written on your arms, so at least you're safe on that account. I'll check your pockets for you later." She'd just have to find which clothes he'd been wearing based on the smell.
Pushing the blankets off of the bed, she moved behind him and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Give me a good reason to be sympathetic and I'll help you with the hang over."
Jules slid his hands from his face and looked over at Mel with eyes so bloodshot that even his normally blue irises looked like they had a red tinge to them. He could give her a few reasons to be sympathetic...
Being witness to a depressed teenager hanging herself in her closet...
Trying to help the soul of a drunk driver who killed three other people on a highway before he ran his car off an overpass and into oncoming traffic...
Watching as an unfortunate woman was poisoned to death by her loathesome husband for insurance money....
Those events and more he had to be witness to, but couldn't affect in any way. Events that normally didn't bother him in the past, but now tugged at his heart and tormented his mind with a variety of unwritten melodies.
And he couldn't say a word about them, though his eyes reflected the internal conflict. "I.. am going to take a shower. I probably reek of an alcohol soaked ashtray." Unsteadily he got back up on his feet and started making his way to the bathroom.
She could read the tragedy. She could sense it. And part of her sang at the sight. He'd thrown himself into drinking to avoid it, hadn't he? It wouldn't be the first time, and far from the last. Mmmm... And he had said his last memory was loosening his tie. So it was her fault.
Mel stood and moved from the bed to step into his path, lightly touching his chest as she tried to meet his eyes. "Have a seat Jules. We can get you a shower when you aren't about to fall over and hit your head on something." She knew how to take care of hang overs, and would, if he didn't fight her on it.
Just that light touch of hers, and the fact that she'd blocked his path, was enough to unbalance Jules so that his dizziness returned in spades. Fortunately, he was close enough to the bed that when he backpedaled at the loss of his balance, he sat back down on the mattress rather than the floor. "Huh? I thought you were mad at me." He looked at her in confusion.
"I said to give me a reason for sympathy." She shrugged. "You'll just owe me double." Not that he yet could grasp how the balance system was working in her head. He owed her for missing their appointment, but she owed him for releasing the inspiration. But that would be paid off with the hang over cure, and when he next produced something awesome, he'd owe her for that. But she couldn't get that without getting him well, so... There was still the owed date.
"Stay there," she ordered. Then she was stepping from his room and headed to the kitchen.
As so as Mel vanished into the kitchen, Jules buried his head in his hands again. His mouth felt like he’d been gargling with cotton, and then said cotton was stuffed to bursting in his brain between the temples. He wanted very much just to lay down and curl up under his blankets once more, but he was afraid of what Mel would do to him if she found him passed out again. The death god felt awful about missing his date with this odd immortal girl, and unfortunately he’d found out that she could be... creative with her retribution. He’d lived in the underworld long enough in the past, and had enough experience with his more vengeful female relations to realize that creative females were not the type to cross if one could help it.
She’d done less than creative things more than a few times in the past, normally when she just felt like she didn’t have the energy for it and was sick of dealing with people. Jules was catching her when she was in a rather decent overall mood though, caught up in the joy of having a shiny new toy. Rather, a new muse project mortal. But that also meant she tended to act on her other emotions as well, including getting a bit of pay back.
So she returned quickly from the kitchen with a glass of water, took one of his hands, and placed it firmly within his grasp. Step one, help rehydrate the body. “Drink.”
“Hmm..? Oh.” Than had zoned out a bit while waiting for Mel, but snapped out of it quickly when he felt her hand touch his. Carefully, he brought it to his lips and slowly drank the cool liquid. “Thanks,” he said. Then he tried to rise to his feet again.
She watched him, trying to gauge his balance, ready to catch if it proved needed, but not moving to help him just yet. She frowned slightly. “Where are you planning on going?”
“Aspirin,” he said simply. “In the cabinet in the bathroom.” He wavered slightly as he stood there, then tried to take a few staggering steps towards the door at the side of his bedroom. He made it halfway there, but then stumbled over the change of color in the rug and nearly fell to the ground.
She was quick to grab his arm, keeping him upright enough that he wouldn’t smash his against anything. Bruises might have been more likely, but at least those healed quickly. Oddly, she’d hoisted enough drunks or high mortals in her life that the move was well practiced, despite her smaller size. She shifted her grip, and helped to move him to lean against the door frame. “I’ll get it.”
Jules nodded and leaned against the door frame. “The medicine cabinet is behind the mirror,” he instructed. Inside the cabinet were the usual assortment of things one might find in a man’s bathroom. Aspirin, bandages, and an assortment of odds and ends in regards to bottles and containers. There were shaving instruments on the counter, but they were very old fashioned, of the straight edge, single bladed variety. There were other items there too, combs and brushes, that were antiques as well, but well-cared for. It was an interesting time warp for those more used to the bathrooms occupied by more modern men.
Mel only took a moment to recognize the items she found, noting and putting them away for later conversation. He was different, that part was clear, but she’d met more than he own fair share of ‘different’, and he was proving to be more normal and sane than most of them. Grabbing the Aspirin, she dropped an amount into her hand and suck the rest back away.
She passed him to grab the glass of water, and refilled it at the sink. She was then standing before him, the little pills offered in one hand, the water in the other. They weren’t just to help get the drink down, but also help get water back into his system.
Jules’s bedroom had been nearly pitch dark, due to the heavy drapes he kept over his windows. However, the high window in his bathroom that allowed all manners of natural light into the small space, simply put, didn’t. Soon as the bathroom door was opened, the hungover man winced and shied away from the light, much like a vampire. Even though it certainly wasn’t bright enough to be anywhere near blinding for the average person, for the hungover it might as well have been a spotlight aimed squarely for his retinas. From the top of a nearby dresser, he fumbled for a pair of sunglasses. Once those were on, he was able to see clearly enough to take the offered pills and water from Mel.
“Can someone please tell me why there are some people in the world who get drunk for purely recreational purposes?” he asked to no one in particular.
“Do you really want the answer to that?” she asked. Because she had it. She had many, many answers to why people got drunk. Seeing his reaction to the light though, she partly closed the door, leaving only barely a crack of light out. It was enough to help her eyes adjust.
“Nope... At least, not right now. Perhaps when the world stops being too bright and too loud.” It would take a few minutes, at least, for the asprin to kick in. If he were in private, and perhaps secluded in a private corner and relative safety of Demeter’s grove, he’d indulge in the more potent pain relief technique of smoking a bit of his prized and secret opium stash. But for now, over the counter medication would work.
Despite the fact that he knew the room was filled with that god-awful, headache inducing sunlight, Jules was now hearing the call of the shower more clearly now. His sense of smell was returning, and his earlier assessment about his scent clinging to him was not too far off base. “Thanks for helping, Mel,” he said. “Even though I missed our appointment this afternoon, how about I take a quick shower and then take you out for dinner to make it up to you? Anything you want, wherever you want?”
“Let’s see how you feel after your shower,” she offered, still frowning slightly. She didn’t believe that he’d be suitable for public that quickly, when the kind of hang over he was feeling. If he’d had that much... Well, she’d seen people laid up for days. Maybe she’d find him some booze and give him a shot of something. Mix that with some other things to help his body get back to normal... then they’d see how it all worked out. “Should I try to cover the window in there a bit?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured her. “The shower’s not in direct line of it, so it should be fine.” That being said, he made his way into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Finally alone with his hangover misery, Jules began removing his clothing and tossing them into the hamper, saving his sunglasses for last, and only after he’d stepped into the shower and drawn the dark red curtains. Though it didn’t block off all the light, it was enough that he finally felt comfortable enough to open his eyes without protection. Quite by auto-pilot, he turned on the hot water and went through the motions of bathing in relative peace. After a bit, he just stood there, leaning against the wall of the shower, relaxing as the streaming water poured over his head and body.
Mel waited until she heard the shower start, then made a quick dash to the kitchen. She rummaged, finding a few items and mixing up a drink that wouldn’t make the person vomit from the mere smell, and headed back to the bathroom. The shower was still running. Carefully, she eased the door open and set the drink down counter. She could see the boxers he’d been wearing in the hamper, and the glasses as well. Nodding to herself, she leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms, listening. He’d gone quiet... “Need help?” she asked, just loud enough to be heard over the water.
“Hmm?” Jules raised his head a little bit at the sound of Mel’s voice. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” he said in a drowsy tone. It wasn’t that he was sleeping, though. He was just so relaxed that he was about as close to dozing off as one could get without actually getting there. Jules tilted his face up into the continuous spray of water and let it wash down his face before running his fingers through his hair.
She frowned. There was no way she’d let him fall asleep or pass out in the water. That would only bring about a higher likelihood of him hurting himself. Straightening, Mel began to strip. Down to bra and underwear, her clothes folded and set up out of the way, she walked to the curtain and pulled it back just enough to step inside. She ignored most of the water mist, and eyed Jules, ready to catch him if he started to slip.
The rush of the water past his ears as it fell over his head prevented him from hearing Mel as she stepped into the shower. From her new vantage point, even through the steam and mist, the scars that decorated Jules’s back stood out as clear as day. Especially now, it was easy to see that most of them went farther down his back than previously seen. There were scars on his arm, and one on his leg. Aside from those, though, he had a very lean, fit body.
For the moment, it seemed that Jules was in no clear danger of slipping and falling. But then again, he still hadn’t caught sight of Mel just yet...
Oh, the view from behind. Mel was enjoying. Her eyes lingered over the shape of his body, the tone of his muscles, and was pleased to be getting such a good view. But she was also partly enthralled by all of the scars, and they shape that they took against his skin.
For a few moments, she lingered, merely watching his body and seeing how steady he was. But staying there like that for too long would be far more creepy. So, reaching, she found the bar of soap and picked it up. Her free hand went in the direction of his arm, to help steady them both, as she started to take the soap to his back. Gently.
Mel’s touch to his arm jolted Jules out of his zen-like relaxed state. He turned around a little too quickly, a half-voiced Greek expletive tumbling out of his lips before he lost his footing and fell against a wall of the shower, inadvertently getting tangled up with his unexpected showermate in the process. “Mel?!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise. “What are you--? How did you--?” His voice somewhat died in his throat as he slowly began to realize their current respective states of undress and how close they were now to one another in the small space.
“{Shit!}” Mel swore in modern Greek, somehow managing not to use her birth tongue. It was probably due to the closeness of the languages, and her ‘practice’ at home. The soap fell from her hand as she gripped him, trying to insure that neither went crashing to the ground.
For a long moment, she simply stayed pinned against him, clinging to him, and holding their position. Slowly her eyes raised to meet his. She had a few different possible responses, the question was which to use... slowly she let out a breath. “You alright?”
To say that Jules had not had much experience with mostly nude living women in his shower while being completely nude himself was the understatement of the millenia. His blue eyes were still quite wide in shock and his face was turning a very interesting shade of red. “I... I’m...um... I... I... I... I’m...ok... I think.” The water still pouring down over the both of them was causing his hair to flop into his eyes, but since his arms tangled up with Mel, he could only shake his head futilely to attempt to move it. “Are... you alright?”
“I’m not bleeding,” which was probably the best for both of them. His shock and blush managed to bring a mild smile to her face. She was a mother who lived with her boyfriend. She wasn’t bothered by the male form, or her own. Shifting slightly, she managed to rest her chin against him while still looking into those blue eyes and lowered her voice. “If it’ll make you more comfortable, I can remove the bra and underwear...” It was a genuine offer, but the smile made it seem part challenge, and part amusement as well.
The offer stunned Jules even more than the actual shock of finding Mel in his shower. Clearly, though, much to his own increasing, head-spinning confusion, while his body was clearly, physically all for what she was suggesting, the part-time musician was trying to find his voice so he could somehow remain a gentleman in this very unorthodox situation. “Ah... well... um, it’s just... er...” Trying to make any kind of coherent sentence while he was captured in those beautiful eyes of hers, with her very attractive body pressed against him, was becoming more and more difficult.
“Here.” Mel shifted, guiding Jules a bit as she made it so that, if he chose, he could easily move away from her, though she wasn’t forcing him to. She also wasn’t completely breaking her contact with him. While she hadn’t stepped into the shower for any purpose more than seeing that he was clean and didn’t hurt himself, now that she was there, she felt no guilt with her offer. Really, she had no issue dropping the clothes. She’d left them on in an attempt to make him feel more comfortable, rather than less. Once they were repositioned though -- her leaning against a wall, hands on his hips, with him able to rest his hands on her or the wall -- she looked up to him and arched her eyebrows. “There. You should be steady now. Though I’m still waiting on your choice.”
“My choice, huh?” Jules rested his hands against the wall behind Mel. The finally upright and mostly steady when it came to his balance there in the shower, inwardly his feelings were in a turmoil. He couldn’t deny to himself how much he was becoming attracted to her. He wanted her physically as well. His body was quite obvious in expressing his desires in that regard. However, he was still a god of death. He was still Thanatos, and a close, personal encounter with a living woman, even an immortal one, wasn’t something that he felt had the right to indulge in.
Jules leaned in closer to Mel, and for a moment his broad, strong chest was pressed against hers. But then he pulled back, and he was wrapping a large, fluffy red towel around Mel’s body. “I think... you should get dried off... before you catch cold,” he said half-heartedly with a small sigh.
Mel rolled her eyes, but she released him to take the towel, pushing it past the curtains to try to keep it dry from the water he was blocking at the moment. But she didn’t step straight out of the shower. She knew what his body seemed to be thinking, even if he was trying to ignore it, and she was trying to keep her eyes up and on his, and not dip to his scars or toned body. “Are you going to be following after?” she asked, serious.
Jules nodded. “I’ll be out in a minute,” he assured her. He just needed a moment alone to clear his head and try to get his body under control. Innocently... or naively... he thought that once Mel was out of the bathroom, and they had a little time to regain composure, that things would be back to normal... or as normal as things ever were between the two of them. He then turned to the shower and fiddled with the dials, turning the temperature down slightly.
Taking him at his word, Mel stepped from the shower. But she didn’t go far. Removing her bra and underwear, she hung them from a towel rack, then tucked the red towel about her body. Instead of exiting however, she put down the cover on the toilet and sat down, the drink she’d made for him earlier close to hand, and waited. If he was going to slip, she was going to be in quick reach.
Dropping the temperature of the water did cool down his body a fair bit. He shivered only a little bit as he finally turned the shower completely off and grabbed another towel to wrap about his own waist. He’d pushed the shower curtains aside and was reaching for another smaller towel that was sitting beside the sink when he realized that he was reaching towards a bra instead of a piece of terrycloth to dry his hair with.
“Mel?” he said with a confused expression. “What are you--” Then he stopped, and his brain actually started working a little bit. “--Oh... right... They’re all wet...”
She shrugged. “I can dress without them. Wouldn’t be the first time.” She grabbed the glass and held it out to him, clearly unbothered by the fact that they were both only in towels. If this was his first instance of such close encounters with the female body, she’d be shocked. “Drink.”
It wasn’t his first close encounter with the female body... only an actual living, breathing female body. He quirked an eyebrow at her comment, but said nothing more of it and tried to focus his attention on the glass she offered him. Jules took it and had a small sip. “Oh!” he gasped as he pulled the drink away from his lips with a start. “What is this?” The taste was... not something he’d ever experienced before, and not something he would likely look forward to repeating ever again.
“It’s a mixture. It would taste better, but you didn’t have any strawberries or the right kind of yogurt.” She was watching him though, and managing not to smirk at his suffering. “Drink. Your body needs something to help it cope with all the booze you took in.” See? She was still seeing that he was being properly taken care of, and trying to help him deal with the hang over.
Jules eyed the liquid in the glass with obvious distaste. “Are you sure this is something that is going to help my body?” he asked. “Couldn’t I just drink some drain cleaner instead?”
Now she frowned at him, very pointedly. “Drain cleaner is for suicides. If you wanted to kill yourself, you should have gone for more booze.” She blinked, and seemed to relax just a hint. “You need to hydrate, but you also need vitamins, minerals, electrolytes...” She shrugged. “I don’t have any Gaterade.”
Licking his lips with a grimace, Jules sighed. “Neither do I. Guess it’s down the hatch then.” Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back along with the glass, draining it as quickly as he could without choking himself. Once he was done swallowing, he shuddered a little. “Gods... that stuff is vile. Mental note... Buy Gatorade...”
“Or don’t go binge drinking again.” Mel took the glass back and stood, intending to take it back to the kitchen, even though she was still in just the towel. Hopefully he wasn’t expecting guests. “Or at least let me know when you do. You and whoever you went with don’t seem to know the basics of avoiding the hangover,” she mentioned, walking to the door of the bathroom.
“I guess I just wasn’t too interested in thinking last night,” Jules said after gargling with some mouthwash, trying to remove the aftertaste from his mouth. Then he grabbed a small towel and started rubbing his hair with it. He was making his own way out of the bathroom while doing so, heading into a small collision with Mel.
“Why the attempt at escapism?” she asks, then pauses and turns to face him to hear his answer. She doesn’t move far enough. The two collide, before she manges another step backwards without dropping the glass. Her towel starts to slip, and she catches it partly with her free hand. She turns her eyes up to him, still waiting for his answer.
Reflexively, when the two of them collided, Jules dropped the towel he was using for his hair and reached out to catch Mel before potentially falling backwards. He managed to get one hand on her waist. As he meets her gaze through the still damp hair falling into his eyes, he thinks about the reasons why he attempted to drink himself into oblivion last night, and for a moment he’s tempted, sorely tempted, to just open up to her. “Mel... I...” he starts to say. But then he hesitates, second guesses himself, and inwardly clams up once more. “It’s just... stress with work. It’s complicated.” He starts to pull away from Mel once more.
Reaching around him, Mel finds a safe spot for the glass, setting it aside and out of the way. The glass could wait. It didn’t take someone used to seeing pain to realize that there was something he wasn’t saying, wasn’t sure about saying, and possibly didn’t know how to say. A hand now free, she brushes his hair from his eyes, then lightly cups his cheek. For a long moment, she stands, peering into his eyes, clearly considering something. “Jules... Trust me. I promise I’m not going to hurt you, or run off and tell your secrets, or be freaked out by whatever it is.” She spoke softly, but with confidence and conviction. Her sincerity rang true. “What is it? What’s bothering you?”
She traced her thumb lightly against his skin as she cupped his face, giving the smallest thread of inspiration. Hopefully it would help him make coherent whatever it was that needed to be shared.
Jules couldn’t seem to break the gaze he shared with Mel. Her voice rang in his ears and echoed in his mind. The wall of resolve he’d built up against sharing the truth about his identity and his work was cracking. “I think you’re dangerous for me,” he whispered hoarsely. “A part of me wants to tell you everything... but I really shouldn’t. I-I can’t...” Clearly, though, the man’s resolve was weakening, if this admission was any indication. He was walking a razor’s edge between keeping his secrets and spilling them.
“I think you’re dangerous for me...” She couldn’t stopping thinking how possibly true that really was. How many times had danger come to someone just from knowing her? But she refused to believe that this was the wrong path. She could offer him something great and amazing... but only if he would accept it.
She lingered for a moment, then dropped her hand, tracing down his arm to catch his hand. She took a step back and gave him a small tug to follow. She kept her eyes trained to his face, watching for resistance, for him to say no, and hoping that he would trust her enough, that he would want the release from his secrets and trouble that she tried to promise enough, that he would accept her lead and follow.
One she’d stepped back enough to hit the edge of the bed, she dropped his hand, secured her towel, and turned away, crawling over the dark sheets to the far side. She laid herself down, and patted the spot on the bed next to her, watching to see if he’d take the silent offer up.
Inwardly, Jules had started steeling himself for further questions. However, when she instead motioned for him to follow her, it threw him slightly off his guard. A little confused as well as curious, he did follow her lead. When she made her way to his bed and laid down upon it, he felt his face warm slightly as memories of their recent encounter in the shower flashed in his mind.
“Mel? What are you--?” he started as he slow sat down on the bed next to her.
She smirked faintly at the unasked question, and tucked one arm up behind her head. “I tightened my towel. But I think you’d be more comfortable laying down than standing and possibly falling into things.” Her free hand patted the spot next to her again, still in invitation, though her voice softened, the faint teasing gone. “{I meant it when I promised that I won’t scare off by anything you say, but you don’t have to say anything you don’t feel like saying.}” He only needed to accept the comfort of a friend’s offer.
Jules ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. Hearing her speak Greek, though the modern version, was a bit disconcerting. He only ever spoke anything close to his native tongue with Hades, or the few members of his family he was on speaking terms with. Though she’d probably never realize it, using that language did as much to whittle down his resolve about keeping his secrets as her touch and kind, sincere offers to listen to his troubles. Then he nodded and slowly took his place next to her on the bed. “{You speak Greek very well,}” he said quietly, avoiding the earlier questions for just a moment or two longer.
Her lips parted, about to speak, then hesitated, and closed. She had told him previously, slightly in passing, that she had a boyfriend and daughter, but she’d kept much of her life to herself thus far. He was a different aspect of it, and she wasn’t sure she wanted the different parts crossing. But how could she ask him to share, without giving him at least some small part of her own truth. She frowned slightly, choosing what part to share.
“{My boyfriend is Greek. Most of his family still lives there, but his father moved here a while ago...}” She continues to frown, just a hint, but the expression seems more toward what she is telling, the story she is settling into, than for the telling itself. She swallows, and decides to start at the beginning. “{His father had it in his will that Nick would get nothing if there was no male heir by the time he died. There was a lot of pressure for him to marry, and start spitting out babies. Nick wasn’t thrilled with the idea, and was putting it off. Then, we had Helen. His father made a change to his will, accepting Helen as an heir, and thus letting Nick have the inheritance when he died.}” She paused, considering, giving him a chance to absorb, before continuing on.
“{His father died shortly after. Some of his family, one of his aunts I think, tried to have Nick accused of murder, and forcing the change in the will, since they happened so close. If she’d succeeded, Nick would have gotten nothing. Most of the family opposed her though, and stood by him. When he held the Aiolos annual Halloween party that year, someone working for his aunt tried to kidnap Helen, to do a paternity test, to try and prove she wasn’t his.}” Mel shrugged. “{Once you get accused of being nothing but a money chasing whore, it’s natural to learn the language.}”
Jules quietly listened to Mel’s tale, and knew instinctively that she spoke the truth. He could hear it in her voice, and see it in her expression. It was obviously something she didn’t share with just anyone, and it chipped away even further at his resolve to keep his own secrets close to his chest. He reached out tentatively and gently stroked her hair and face, both as a comforting gesture and to give him a moment to figure out what he could offer her that would both reveal more about himself, but keep his true identity a secret. When he finally found his voice, it was hesitant and strained, as if simply speaking aloud had suddenly become the most difficult thing in the world. A part of him wished that he didn’t have to speak aloud, wished that he had an instrument of some sort in front of him so that he could let his music speak for him instead.
“{My job... my work... involves more than just collections,}” he started slowly. “{That, actually, is just one of several jobs I do. I suppose it’s the one I tell people that’s least likely to make them nervous around me, aside from the musician bit. The other... I can’t say exactly what it is... but it involves being around a great deal of death.}” Jules sighed and closed his eyes. It was getting harder to say anything more with her staring into his eyes. His voice became even softer, so that if the room wasn’t already deathly quiet, it would’ve been near impossible to hear him. “{I watch as people die, day in and day out, for weeks or months at a time, but there is nothing I can do to stop their deaths from happening. My hands... are tied, I suppose. I... I can’t change their fates. It’s not my place...}”
The words seemed to be getting easier to say, but as Jules spoke, it sounded like the increased speed of his speech were driven more by fear than by comfort. Indeed he was afraid. He was afraid of saying too much and revealing too much, but he was also afraid of saying too little and trying in vain to deal in silence and solitude with the memories being dredged up by his confessions. “{It used to be that I could detach myself from the events. I wasn’t bothered by it. It was just my job. But then... I started caring... I wasn’t supposed to care, but I did. I started caring, and I wanted to help them, but I couldn’t. I was... helpless... Now their memories haunt me. I hear their voices and see their faces in my dreams. They beg and they plead, but I can’t... I just can’t... It’s not my place... It’s not my fate... It’s not what I’m supposed to do...}”
Jules didn’t realize it, but he was trembling now. As he spoke with a broken voice, in his mind he was reliving the memories of his most recent jobs once more. Though his eyes were closed, he saw the dead faces and broken bodies. He heard their pitiful, grief-stricken ghostly voices as they pleaded to him to turn back time and save them. He heard the angry, accusing words of those spirits who accused him of being heartless and not doing anything to stop their fates. It was as if a wall had burst within him, and he couldn’t stop the memories from flooding out. Though it had the unintended benefit of choking his voice so that he could no longer speak, the pain it was causing was writ all over him.
Mel shifted her position and wrapped her arms around him as best she could. She nuzzled in close to him, holding him, somehow allowing him to accept or deny the offered comfort. As he spoke and closed his eyes, she started to watch him more. Her mind’s eye filled with images, starting with him as an assassin, then working in some form of a care clinic, before ending with a lab. It felt like something from a horror flick or bad science fiction, but she didn’t dismiss it as impossible. It lined up. But true or not, she felt no need to draw away from him. Only find a way to comfort and help draw the pain out.
Her fingers twisted to reach his hair, drawing through it with a light touch. She closed her eyes and took in a slow breath, and literally breathed in the tragedy she could feel around him. It was a battle not to start smiling, a small buzz in the back of her head recognizing this as her domain, her space, her right. Oh, he was hers. And she would cling to him, for as long as he would allow.
Her touch wasn’t completely without purpose, as she saw how his telling went. Gently, ever so softly, she threaded bits of inspiration into him. Enough to organize his thoughts, his emotions, enough that should he choose, he could find a release. “{You don’t make me nervous, Jules,}” she whispered softly. She paused, and briefly wet her lips. “{... You make me want to share your talent with everyone. To share your tragedy and pain and grief...}” She twisted, rising to look him his eyes, a hint of fear in her own. “{Does that frighten you?}”
It took a moment for Jules to realize that instead of drawing away from him, as a part of his subconscious had expected, Mel had wrapped her arms about him and pulled him in close. He accepted the comforting she offered gratefully, wrapping his own arms around her body. Her warmth, her touch, her scent, the sound of her breathing... Focusing on her physical presence rather than the thoughts roiling about in his own mind helped to calm the turmoil that had been stirred up within him.
“{Frighten?}” Slowly he lifted his head and opened his eyes to meet her gaze. Calmly he shook his head. “{No... So long as it’s you. I could never, not alone... But with you... for you... }” There was something about her. Something that just felt right about trusting her with this part of himself.
She watched him for a moment as his words hit home, and almost immediately she relaxed once again. Settling her head to his chest, a faint smile came to her lips. Mmm. He was accepting her. He had so much that he could offer, so much that could be poured into music, and so much tragedy that had been merely packed down and away... It was like a well, just waiting to be put to use. She doubted it could ever go dry within his lifetime.
Mel closed her eyes, content. “{I won’t make you do it alone. I can help you. Help you with the music, and expressing things, and even getting things preformed. Whatever you need, that’ll be my job.}”
As Mel relaxed and settled warmly on his chest, Jules felt himself do similar. The tension began to melt away, and the emotional rollercoaster he’d been on finally came to a stop. It felt comfortable, resting with Mel like this, and for the first time in months, he felt like he could actually sleep and not be plagued by nightmares. He rested a hand at the small of Mel’s back and was only marginally aware of the fact that both she and he were clad just in towels as they lay there upon his bed. As the haze of sleep began to overtake him, he remained coherent enough to ask one final question.
“{Why me, Mel?}”
She had no reason to sleep, other than simply being happy and content, but curled up on the chest of her next project, she couldn’t help but be pleased. She needed a project. His voiced question brought her back though, and it took a moment for her to dig out her response. “{Because you are talented. And because you need someone. ... You need a muse. You just happened to get someone who is actually named after one as well.}” It was only the most minor of fibs, but she saw no reason to start the whole complex explanation of being a true muse, and being immortal. She was feeling satisfied with him merely accepting her, and being prepared to share his music with the rest of the world. One step at a time. No reason to freak the mortal out.
Jules cracked his eyes open a little bit and looked down at Mel for a moment. ”A muse?” he thought to himself. Suddenly a lot of things made much more sense, and rather than be freaked out, the god of death felt relieved. “{My muse,}” he murmured aloud experimentally. He’d heard about them, but had never met any personally. At least, now that he didn’t have to
worry about her being a potential enemy or threat, he could rest easy in her presence, though he would still have to be on guard. He didn’t know what muses thought about Thanatos, but previous experiences with other immortals were lukewarm at best. It was better, in his mind, that she continued to assume that he was just another mere mortal. If he had his way, his true identity would never be revealed to her.
The claiming words sent a small buzz through her body, and a smile came to her face. Oh yes, he had his own muse, but he was only barely starting to see what that would mean. They could be caregivers and tend to many of the needs of their mortals, but they also had the habit of pushing them. “{Your muse,}” she repeated back to him. “{I hope you’re ready for it...}”
Jules smiled softly, but didn’t say anything as he cradled her a little closer to him. For the first time since losing Takshi, he didn’t feel completely alone in the world. If being the instrument of a muse’s inspiration was the price for companionship in the modern world with all its tragedy and disbelief, then he’d gladly pay it, with interest. Then, he let his eyes slip closed and allowed himself to finally drift off into a welcomed slumber.
Summary: The day after his drinking binge at the jazz club with Hades, a hangover causes Jules to miss his date with Mel. So the muse goes in search of her absent new toy. Upon finding him, though, they end up getting a lot closer than either one of them expected they would.