Chapter Text
And then there’s the volunteer work he does at the observatory/planetarium.
It’s not paid, so he shouldn’t be doing it. It’s not even related to his intended field of aerospace engineering, so he really shouldn’t be prioritizing it, not when there’s so many other things he should be doing with his time.
But it was at the planetarium here in the city where Icarus first felt the longing. Sitting in the battered reclining chairs as a child and hearing the narrated voice describe the constellations, the basics of planetary movements, the progression of human understanding of the cosmos… he’d felt it instantly. An overpowering urge to be there, to go up beyond the sky, up into space…
Even now, even knowing what he knows, he still feels that longing. It still drives him every day. Sometimes, when he’s cleaning after-hours, he sneaks into the exact seat he sat in over a decade and a half ago, and remembers that feeling. He feels sometimes like he’s repaying a karmic debt to this place by serving it now, in menial unpaid volunteer work.
And aside from the nostalgia, Icarus argues to himself that there’s no real harm in getting some space-related experience. After all, it’s not like there’s a lot of opportunities to volunteer at some kind of aerospace engineering, not until he’s much further along in his degree….
…Until, suddenly, an opportunity does come along.
————-
In spite of how Icarus is always complaining, modern life isn’t any harder than it used to be for a mortal. In many ways, it’s easier than Icarus can ever appreciate. He isn’t likely to starve to death; the cheap, disgusting ramen noodles are cheap and disgusting, but they’re food and they’re available for almost nothing. He isn’t likely to be eaten by a wild animal, or die of a curable disease before he turns thirty.
But it is a lot more complicated, and that’s what’s currently irritating Helios and Apollo.
There’s a program advertised as seeking applicants from the observatory where Icarus spends his time. The program involves two weeks spent in a learning camp at a spacecraft design company. There’s a recruiter who will be visiting this observatory soon, to talk up the program and seek attendees. Icarus, naturally, wants this desperately.
Back in the old days, if a god wanted to favor a mortal, it was simple. The god would just make it so. The god desired that a favored mortal attended special training? They would simply visit the person in charge of that place and tell them to expect Icarus in a month’s time. Make a godly decree and move on. Certainly, there were often problems later, when the mortal abused the gift or if a rival god got angry about it, but as far as giving the gift in the first place… it was simple, and considered the god’s right.
Well, that doesn’t mean anything now, in this time and this place. No godly decrees. Simply calling NASA and telling them they have a candidate, produces unsatisfactory answers. In spite of his advanced interest and knowledge of the field, Icarus has insufficient formal training to catch the eye of the program representatives. He needs a sponsor of influence to connect him with the programs, and he additionally needs money to be able to attend.
Coming up with a windfall of money for the extra programs turned out to be easy, all things considered, since Plutus is an amiable enough lad and open to negotiations. Helios, with his domain of Sight, agrees to provide vision to the blind god of good fortune. There could be some minor consequences to this, but it’s Helios’ domain and his call if he wants someone to be unblind, so they’re ready should any objections arise. Luckily there’s historical precedent – perhaps the only time Apollo’s ever been grateful for that lout Orion.
Finding the sponsor is far more difficult. They would need to seek out the correct person, with the correct connection to the correct program, and then convince that person that Icarus is the right man for the position, and then concoct some way to get the money to Icarus by way of this person…. When Apollo casts his gaze ahead to see how it could all pan out, the sheer quantity of glamours and threats involved give him a headache.
Easier by far, and more natural, to simply be the person of influence.
——————
Helios can’t quite believe Apollo was willing to go along with this scheme; but whatever Apollo saw when he looked to the future of using completely legitimate means, was enough to make him assent to the plan.
It’s something of a win-win for Helios: if it works, then they got Icarus into this elite program. If it doesn’t work, Helios still gets to see Apollo wearing a really stupid disguise.
Naturally, the God of Too Much Dignity had objected to the disguise, but Helios had reasonably pointed out that glamours always work better if there are tangible elements to sort of ‘cement’ the look. So, the appearance of a foreign scientist who happens to be at the observatory while the recruiter is present, is cemented with a large hat and glasses and a fake mustache, and a Dutch accent to complement the name of “Dr. Kleinezon.”
(Apollo, not trusting Helios’ word for some reason, had consulted other second-generation gods, with dubious results:
Athena: “I suppose it couldn’t hurt…”
Aphrodite: “It makes you look so handsome and distinguished!”
Hephaestus: “Uh….. sure?”
Artemis: “I mean, it takes your natural nerdiness and amplifies it by like, 6 million… that’s what you’re aiming for, right?”
Ares: “I don’t fuckin’ care.”
Dionysus: “You’re Apollo under that mustache?! Shit! That disguise really works!”
Hermes: “YOU NEED TO WEAR IT. DO IT FOR ME. DO IT FOR ALL OF US.”)
So there he goes – Apollo, a.k.a. Dr. Kleinezon, who has caught the elbow of the visiting recruiter for the training program, and is steering him in the direction of Icarus, who is doing something stupid and menial like polishing knobs or whatever. The idea is that Apollo will discreetly lead the conversation so that Icarus can impress the program guy with his levels of nerdiness, and then offer an application for the costs through Dr. Kleinezon’s own charitable scholarship program, the “Plutus Space Exploration Fund.” Apollo’s identity is hidden behind the Dr. Kleinezon appearance, so Icarus will never know.
Apollo is better at charming and manipulating mortals than Helios, who generally prefers a direct approach. Not to mention that Helios can’t possibly bluff his way through a conversation on how this nerdy human shit works. So Apollo’s taken the lead on this little project. Helios’ contribution is to stay out of sight and make sure nothing happens while Icarus is wowing the program guy, so they won’t be interrupted.
Naturally, shit starts to go wrong immediately, almost as soon as their conversation starts.
Helios has just enough time to watch as Dr. Kleinezon calls Icarus over, to start asking the impressive questions, before the first irritation comes up. He’d stolen one of the planetarium’s t-shirts from the souvenir store – it serves as a uniform for the volunteers, and his idea was that he could intercept anybody before they could bother Icarus. Shouldn’t have been a problem, right? All the kid does when he’s here is clean shit! Take out trash and sweep. Helios’ big plan was to just tell everyone that Icarus would ‘get right on that.’ A cinch.
This works well enough for five minutes or so.
Some lady in a planetarium shirt spots Icarus and heads over to him. Helios intercepts. Success!
“Oh – are you working today too, dear?” the lady asks, looking a little puzzled.
“Aha, yeah! I love cleaning messes for free, so I signed right up!” Helios still hasn’t fully grasped why a person would want to do this.
The lady’s brow furrows faintly but then clears as Helios silently nudges a charm her way. “Well, you’re in luck, then, because the men’s bathroom seems to be flooding.”
“Icarus will get right on it,” Helios assures her.
They stare at each other a moment, before the lady clears her throat. “It… probably can’t wait. Maybe you could look into it yourself? Or, well, I was going to ask Icarus, but since you like cleaning messes so much…?”
Helios glances over at Icarus and Apollo. Apollo’s netted the recruiter and ‘accidentally’ fallen into a conversation with Icarus; the kid’s speaking animatedly now. Dammit.
Helios turns grudgingly towards the bathrooms. “Yeah… yeah, I do.”
The water situation definitely can’t wait. Helios actually splashes when he walks in; he wrinkles his nose in disgust, but the water seems to be running steadily from a pipe below the sinks, rather than the toilets, so there’s that.
Helios considers. He could dry the water up – he’s the sun, after all! – but drying it up instantly would require a level of heat that would surely be noticed, and drying it up slowly would, well, take too long. Plus this wouldn’t solve the problem of the leaky pipe in the first place. And Helios sure as fuck doesn’t know how to fix human plumbing systems.
He scowls, trying to come up with a solution, and gives up after about twenty seconds of hard thought.
“Poseidon!!”
He has enough time to kick sullenly at the pool of water before he hears the reply.
“Hmm… would I be correct to assume that you didn’t call me here for a talk or visit.”
Poseidon is looking around with mild curiosity. He, too, is standing ankle-deep in water, but as usual the cheating jerk has made it so that it doesn’t leave him soaked.
Also as usual, the nerd is wearing a horse-themed shirt – a simple v-neck with a drawing of a happy horse, with the word “Hay!” underneath.
“I always love talking to you, Poseidon,” Helios says, more-or-less not completely dishonestly. “But uh, yeah. I have a Situation here.”
“You realize that I’m the god of the ocean, right? Not flooded bathrooms?”
Helios groans. “You have mastery of ALL water, man – cmon, give me a break! I need this water gone and I can’t dry it up myself without nuking the whole neighborhood!”
“I don’t always keep up on human inventions,” Poseidon says thoughtfully. “It’s really more Hephaestus’ or Athena’s circle of interest. But I’ve heard tell of some device created… I think it’s called… a mop?” He taps his chin as though he can’t quite remember. What a dick.
“Ouranos’ balls! You know I don’t know how to use that!”
“I know you don’t want to.”
“Same thing – look, c’mon, it’s for Icarus!”
“Icarus is your boyfriend, not mine.” Poseidon is watching him with that smug fucking face, he always makes that face when he knows he’s about to win something great.
Helios scowls as hard as he can – but Poseidon is a guy who spent most of his existence squaring off against the likes of Zeus and Athena, and it’s pretty hard to intimidate him. He only raises his eyebrows now. Helios slumps his shoulders in defeat.
“Fine, fine! I’ll owe you, okay?”
Poseidon smiles. He makes a gesture and the water is gone. The god of the sea turns to the pipes.
“And just because I love the Grandpa of Olympus so much, I’ll even fix the leak so you won’t have to owe me another favor in twenty minutes,” he says. “A freebie. On the house.”
“Great,” Helios grits out, holding back any annoyed sarcasm because he IS doing a favor, he supposes. He guesses he should just be grateful that it isn’t Hermes he owes the favor to. “Thanks.. a lot. I gotta go now and see whatever other ways this stupid human building is falling to shambles.”
“This building is a sort of modern shrine to you and the other celestial gods, isn’t it? You should be kinder,” Poseidon chides, squatting to inspect the pipes.
That’s… kind of true, isn’t it? Inasmuch as this human society has shrines or temples to them anymore, this would probably be one. A place where the mortals go to learn about space and the celestial bodies… They even offer sacrifices of a sort, by spending money on donations to keeping the place going, or funding research… and the vast majority of ‘worshippers’ aren’t here for any practical purpose, just out of interest and love.
Feeling slightly chastised, he trudges back out into the main lobby, and is immediately beset by another harried-looking mortal, this one a cute, slightly chubby-looking man with dark skin and a round, pleasant face. He’s surrounded by a small mob of children, maybe seven or eight years old. Helios has a sinking feeling.
“Are you Icarus? I’m Mr. Martin; we’re here for the ten o’clock tour!”
“Oh… yeah…” he says unenthusiastically, regarding the children with suspicion. Helios doesn’t care for children much – too noisy and messy and chaotic, always whining, always wanting attention… just too different from Helios himself, really.
Mr. Martin beams at him. “Great! Kids, show Mr. Icarus how excited we are to LEARN today!” The kids all duly cheer and shout, jumping around with unnecessary vigor. Great.
“Okay, kids, please follow Mr. Icarus – I’m going to go and make sure we’re signed up for the special Lunch with the Stars show!… I’ll catch you up in just a moment, Icarus, as soon as I get that form signed.”
Helios attempts to keep the annoyance off his face as Mr. Martin heads off in the direction of the information desk – it’s right near the bathrooms. Helios really, really hopes that Poseidon doesn’t notice the cute teacher and try to seduce him; Helios doesn’t want to be stuck with these brats any longer than he has to be.
“Your hair looks like my hair does in the morning but Daddy makes me brush it,” one of the brats informs him, immediately confirming his fears.
“My hair looks like it was styled by a god because it was,” he snarls back. This makes all of them laugh delightedly; he’ll never understand why kids seem to be drawn to him.
He casts a longing glance at the real Icarus, who appears to be writing something down on a notebook while the recruiter makes noises that suggest he’s impressed. Helios strains to see; his vision, of course, is flawless, but the only thing to see on the paper is a lot of numbers and angles and crap. What a fucking nerd.
He sighs and heads over to the Hall of Constellations, which is pretty much what it sounds like – a long hall that features framed posters of the constellations. He can at least speak to this, it’s just stories. And since he doesn’t work during the day, he’s had a long time to look at the stars at his leisure.
“Okay, so, uh… looks like we got… Orion. He used to be blind, but a really cool and generous Titan fixed his eyes so he could see. That Titan was Helios, and everyone agrees he was the best. Helios also used to hang out with Herakles – ”
“You mean Hercules,” says one brat.
“I said Herakles, kid, and that’s what I meant.”
“Disney made a movie called Hercules. He’s a hero who’s best friend is a goat-man and a flying horse and his dad is Zeus and his mom is Hera and he fell in love with Meg and fought giants and Hades,” the brat insists.
Helios briefly winces and looks around to see if Hera herself has arrived to address the question of exactly whose son Herakles was; but luckily, she seems to have missed the blasphemy. Holy shit, those guys at Disney are lucky to be alive after that one.
“…Yeah, whatever. Let’s, uh, let’s move on.” Half the kids are singing “Zero to Hero” and dancing; Helios does nothing to try to rein them in. “Okay, Centaurus. Chiron! Half man, half horse – everyone loves this guy. Really smart. He taught pretty much any hero you’ve heard about. He’s actually Apollo’s uncle but Apollo raised him like a son. I call him “Cuz,” since he’s mmmmyyyyHelios’ cousin. And Helios is…?”
“The coolest Titan!” the kids chorus.
“Right! And here’s Aquarius. That’s Ganymede. He’s Aquarius because he’s the cupbearer and pours all the gods’ drinks at councils and parties and stuff. Real sweet guy. Zeus’ boyfriend; he’s still head-over-heels for him even today.”
“Isn’t Zeus married to Hera?” one of the kids wants to know. “They were married right?”
“Uh……………yeah. Um, look, Draco! Dragon! You kids like dragons, right?” Helios is starting to sweat a little. Where the hell is Mr. Martin?! “Draco, that’s one of those dragons Ares picked up from somewhere. It’s still around, making trouble, just like Ares himself. Ares loves those stupid flying snakes.”
“My friend Jamie in Class 1B says dragons aren’t real.”
Helios scoffs. “I suppose your friend Jamie also thinks harpies, manticores and chimera weren’t real too? Pfft. Send Jamie my way so I can kick his ass.”
The kids go into an excited flurry of talk about that. Helios isn’t doing so bad! He moves on to Perseus.
“Man, did you guys get this story wrong. Perseus and.. yup, there’s Andromeda over there. They were… I think you might say they were each other’s, uh, ‘beard?’ you know that word? Ask your parents. Anyway, Medusa and Andromeda went on to have a really nice relationship and Perseus was basically Hermes’ favorite boyfriend ever. That’s why he made the constellation, to memorialize him. Perseus is a nice guy, kind of a dork but pretty badass as far as mortals go, and maybe the only person ever, who never falls for Hermes’ shit. It’s amazing because Hermes is one wily little fucker.”
“Daddy says that’s a bad word,” says one little kid, eyes huge.
“She’s not wrong, but sometimes a bad word is still the word you want to use, you know?”
“You said a lot of bad words!”
“Yeah, well, those were the best words to use, so – ”
“How about… if I take over from here,” suggests a new (adult) voice. Helios looks around to see – Athena, wearing her best Librarian Chic outfit and a slightly-too-wide smile.
“Oh – uh, Athena, hey. What’re you doing here?” Helios asks, considerably more relaxed with the goddess of wisdom than he was with Poseidon. Athena has her flaws, but she’d never dream of creating a fuss in a nerd center.
“Hermes has been live-streaming this… effort, of yours, on Olympr. He came to record Apollo’s efforts first – there’s already a meme started – but after Icarus took over the conversation, he wandered over to see what you were doing with these children. Most of the audience is very entertained but I was horrified and came at once to save the children’s education,” Athena answers in ancient Greek, before turning to the kids and grinning brightly, while leaning down.
“Mr. Icarus has to run to help out at the gift shop, but my name is Ms. Athena and I can take you on the rest of your tour! You guys look pretty smart; but do any of you know how to tell time using just the stars?”
Well, it’s not sex and violence, but she seems to have caught their attention. Helios doesn’t ask the questions burning on his tongue, but takes the opportunity to shuffle away from all the brats. Shit, though - Hermes is here, somewhere?! Recording this?? For an audience??
As though on cue, he hears a stifled giggle and whips his head around to see a flash of blue, vanishing out of sight around a corner. Eyes narrowing, he pursues back to the main lobby – and stops dead in his tracks at the sight.
“Oh, thank god!” One of the volunteers waves at him frantically. She’s headed towards the gift shop, where an impossibly long line has formed. “Frank had a family emergency and had to go – we need you on the register until Mannie gets here!”
Shit. “Oh… okay…” Helios says, not moving yet, watching as the volunteer hurries away. Run a register? He has no idea how that complicated science fiction gizmo works.
“Hmmm,” comes a voice at his shoulder.
“No,” Helios snarls.
“This seems like…”
“Absolutely not!”
“…the sort of situation…”
“I said no, dammit!”
“… where a god of merchants…”
“Get lost, you little monster!”
“…might come in handy.” Hermes is there, wearing the planetarium’s t-shirt, wearing the most pleasant and kindly smile on his face. Butter wouldn’t melt in that mouth.
“You’re recording all this?? You shithead! No! I don’t need your help!”
“Oh! Well, all right,” Hermes says with a smile and a wink.
Helios waits, on edge. “…Right,” he says with deep suspicion. “You… agreed pretty fast.”
“Well, it’s your call! I’m only surprised, is all. I thought you liked Icarus,” Hermes says, inspecting his nails.
“Not that it’s any of your business!”
“So I guess you’ll go to that register, and totally fuck up the sales because you barely know how to count to ten let alone manage money… and let Icarus take the hit for the massive errors in money.” Hermes’ voice is so light and casual, he may as well be discussing his plans to get an ice cream cone on a walk in the park.
Helios is gritting his teeth and can feel his face heating up to the point where it probably could dry up any flooded bathrooms on the whole block.
Hermes’ one visible eye scrunches up at the corner in amusement. “Why drag it out? Just go ahead and ask, Grandpa Helios! I’m kind of an expert at commerce.”
“……………Will you………. Help me with the cash register………..” Helios spits out.
“Hmmmm?”
Helios closes his eyes and curses Hermes, Apollo, even Hyperion for siring Helios in the first place. “I’ll….. I’ll owe you one.” He can imagine the delighted gasp of the gods watching this on Olympr.
Helios grins brightly, and his voice takes that tone of ominous cheerfulness that’s unique to him: “You got it! A favor given, a favor owed!”
He waits long enough to catch Helios’ defiant middle finger, and then zips off to run the till as promised. Taking a deep breath, Helios looks around for Icarus and Apollo – they’re nowhere to be seen.
Shoulders slumping, Helios slouches off to the back room to hide there until it’s all over, and try not to think about what terrible things Poseidon and Hermes are gonna make him do – Hermes! That’s a basic survival skill in Olympus, never owe Hermes anything!
There’s one final surprise waiting for him as he opens the door – the back entrance to the building is wide open, and he’s apparently stumbled upon three of the unluckiest thieves in the world. Wearing ski masks and heavy jackets, they’re hauling boxes of expensive equipment out the back door into a waiting truck and freeze at the sight of him.
Helios heaves a sigh of relief. “Finally!!” he exclaims, cracking his knuckles. “A problem I can deal with myself!”
————-
Hermes wears many hats, but of course, he’s known most famously for being the messenger of the gods. He doesn’t typically deal with the mortal postage system but as the god of heraldry, he can if he wants. It is his domain, after all.
So when he’s aware of the message being sent to Icarus, notifying him of his acceptance into the program, Hermes does two celebratory flips in the air – mostly because he’s glad for Icarus himself. The kid deserves this break, and Hermes is confident he’ll learn a lot from it.
But he’s genuinely pleased as well that Apollo’s and Helios’ gambit paid off. Hermes had the time of his life watching the two of them embarrass themselves (and the memes are never gonna die from that – Apollo’s fake mustache and Helios threatening to kick a seven-year-old’s ass). But they humiliated themselves willingly, for the sole purpose of trying to give Icarus the lift he needed. That’s something they would never have entertained for a moment, back in the old days, and Hermes is overjoyed for his friends.
For now, he hurries to get a congratulations card signed by all the gods, so that he can have it delivered at the same time as Icarus’ letter.