#dant my friend i am So Sorry its been MONTHS since u asked i know

[zarnzarn]

Random odypenath thought that I had today and needed to share.

Imagine this: Athena and Ody showing Penelope how they used to spar when training Odysseus, they spar a few times and times and Athena wins all of them, because duh, she's a goddess.

And Athena despite denying a lot is quite prideful, so she gloats a little saying that in over their 30 years of sparing Odysseus never once managed to beat her.

But we all know Ody is a little shit a heart, so he asks for another spar with her, to which she agrees without questions. Everything is going normally and Athena has him immobilized, she's ready to say that she won again, but then Odysseus suddenly kisses her.

It's nothing more than a quick peck, but this surprises Athena so much that she lets down her weapon and ends up letting Ody destabilize her making her fall down, giving Odysseus his first win against his teacher.

Athena's first instinct after falling is to look for Penelope, but to her surprise the woman isn't upset by the fact that her husband just kissed another person, she actually looks quite happy hiding her smile behind her hands.

"I won my love!" Odysseus says with the joyfulness of a child, practically jumping in the arms of his wife.

and Athena gets up and her mind still isn't quite sure if she's supposed to be flustered or annoyed.

And Odysseus just replies with his voice dripping with smugness that Athena herself had taught him that there wasn't such a thing as dirty tricks in a fight and that every tactic is valid if it helps you win a battle.

And Athena tries to argue against that, but she ends up lost for words because sadly she taught her little warrior of the mind too well and his argument was very solid. She ends up just huffing and saying that that was enough training for the day and she turns around to go back inside the palace. Odysseus and Penelope laugh themselves silly at their goddess's embarrassment, but nonetheless, they follow her inside.

Many hours later back at her palace on Olympus Athena freak out realizing that that was her first kiss and that oh my gods Odysseus had just taken her first kiss.

Anyway that was a lot of rambling that I probably won't manage to write into an actual fanfiction but I wanted the CEO of the odypenath fanbase to know

HI HELLO DANTSEM THANK YOU SO MUCH THIS WONDERFUL IDEA HAS BEEN ROLLING AROUND IN MY HEAD FOR AGESSS!!!!! sorry it took so long to answer my friend, I was tumbling it like a stone in my mind until it was perfect and shiny.

THIS IS SO. SO TRUE. OH MY GOD. even just odysseus and Athena sparring would be so cool after some 30 years of dirty tricks and training and fighting; all fancy footwork and fast attacks and smirks that have Penelope crossing her legs.

and of COURSE Athena cackles when he goes down- he learnt his trashtalk from somewhere after all- teasing him about how not even one win after all these years must SO grating, that it was kind of sad he hadn't even bested her ONCE.

penelope, because she is a rat, immediately goes oooooh while odysseus' mouth drops slowly open in offended shock, but still curled into a half-smile almost against his will. their eyes crinkle with their mirth even as Athena raises an eyebrow in challenge, because this is as known to them as breathing; not once had she ever mocked him without him springing to his feet and retaliating immediately.

(i imagine this is the first time they're acting this comfy again after the return; they were still tiptoeing around each other a bit emotionally till then but blood pumping + familiar ground of fighting means they're both open)

and he snaps up and swings out at her and athena parries with an amused, lazy smirk, that Penelope's husband matches with a wild blaze of teeth-

she's having the time of her life btw. Spartan culture still has its grip on her and seeing them fight, she is just. dying of lust on the side. dying, truly. between her husband keeping up with a goddess and the war goddess fighting on mortal soil at full power... poor woman's about to pass out from the heat.

they both get a good fight, spears knocked away and both of them reduced to a mad wrestle on the ground- but eventually, he grabs the wrong arm and she manages to pin him down, hands crossed and pulled in opposite directions, knee in the stomach.

she barely has time to grin in victory, ready to gloat, before his eyes flash with that spark of mischief she knows well and he's leaned up to press their mouths together.

she's so shocked that she barely registers movement until there's a foot in her abdomen and the world is upside down for a few odd seconds, eating dirt and then landing hard on her back, making her grunt.

"HA!" Odysseus shouts, eyes shining with victory and grinning wider than she'd ever seen him, pressing down his knees on her shoulders for three seconds before letting go with a whoop and running off so fast athena's left gawping at the empty sky, breath knocked out of her, cheeks burning. Her mouth is open in affront, at the blasphemy, at the fucking audacity- "Penelope, holy fuck, did you see that?"

Athena jerks at the queen's name and rolls up on one elbow, a mixed bag of furious on Penelope's behalf, a need for a commiserative do you fucking see this shit, and an odd need to start apologizing frantically, even though she did nothing.

But Penelope has her hands on her knees for support and is laughing behind one hand, face lined with mirth as her husband dances around her, hooting and hollering like he would have if he'd beaten her when he was twelve-

Athena's brain finally resumes its motions and she pushes herself off the ground with a scoff of disbelief, mouth still open. Her chest burns with a confusing cluster of emotions, now that the initial response to look for Penelope's reaction seems to be... unnecessary. Doesn't know whether to start shouting or lie back down and let Gaia take her out of embarrassment.

"I cannot believe you," She says finally. "I should set Diomedes on you."

Odysseus laughs and looks at her, eyes clear as he hangs off his wife. "Your top student, Athena, lover of clever strategies. No such thing as a dirty tactic, remember? I beat you, fair and square."

"Hah, please," She says automatically, waving him off, even as her chest pangs with something she's never felt before. "Not a person alive would call that a win."

She has never had a student best her. Not once. She has to swallow against a lump in her throat, eyes burning oddly even as she pastes on a teasing smile.

"-in fact, I have it written down, the merits of a good distraction, because you insisted-"

Athena makes the mistake of turning to glance to the side as she brushes herself off. Her heart skips a beat when she catches Penelope's gaze staring right back at her, no longer with the placidly uncaring look of earlier- eyes dark and expression calculating.

And then- Penelope smirks, small and dangerous, and raises an eyebrow. You liked it, didn't you?

"Training is over for today," She says, walking away quickly to the sound of laughter, and is subsequently heckled all the way back to the palace, the both of them cackling behind her all the way.

-

Later, she sits on her bed, getting all the way to taking off her armour and lying down, when the memory slams into her with full force, lips burning.

Her eye twitches. Her stupid fucking champion's idiot face swirls into mind, grinning like a maniac for finally having bested her and she snarls. She has no idea how to feel. Pride It was a good fucking tactic, too, which just makes her more annoyed.

Athena takes a deep breath in and out. Reaches for the nearest pillow.

The entire pantheon still wakes up when she screams.

-

"Why the fuck did I do that?" Odysseus says for the thousandth time, staring up at the ceiling with haunted eyes.

Penelope grunts unhelpfully next to him, almost asleep.

"She's going to get her bearings tomorrow and kill me," He says fatalistically. "Pallas Athena is going to beat me to death in a rage, because I am the stupidest creature alive, and- Penelope. Penelope. I kissed her."

"I know. Sleep."

"I'm not a dog!" Odysseus protests. "And aren't you listening? I kissed Athena."

"She won't do anything," Penelope rasps, moving closer and draping one arm across his chest. "Also I know. I was there. You have not shut up about it since she left."

Odysseus groans and pushes his palms into his eyes. "Why didn't you stop me?"

"Honestly, I wanted to see if you had the guts," Penelope says, hiding a smile in his shoulder as he looks over to glare at her. "And I say this with love, sweetheart, but everyone has been waiting for this for ages. In fact, I have bets to collect tomorrow, do remind me."

Odysseus sputters. "Who 'everyone'?" He demands.

"Telemachus, for one," Penelope yawns. "And probably every being with a trickle of divinity in them and a couple thousand without-"

"TELEMACHUS?" Odysseus sits up, so incredibly offended that she chokes on her yawn and wakes up a bit more to laugh at it. "MY SON? HER STUDENT? MY OWN FLESH AND BLOOD-"

"He actually thought you two already were, I think," Penelope muses, tucking her hands behind her head. "He already knew how she stood in as my husband when times got... tough, during Troy. And the champions frequented our halls often at the start, and had many irritated anecdotes of how Pallas Athena absolutely doted on you, whispering wisdom and cheating in your fights so that you won."

"Doted?" Odysseus gawps at her. His cheeks are red. "As if, half the time she was yelling at me-"

"-And how she was cold and distant with her stewards, but always had time for her favourite-"

"I wasn't her favourite!" Odysseus protests, even as his voice cracks a bit in the middle, some small part of him still stuck in the moment where she had tossed him aside over that first slight against her will, that had grown roots believing all those years after that she had never looked back, and gone on to other students, other champions.

"Are you embarrassed?" Penelope laughs, pushing herself up. "Odysseus, come on, there is absolutely no way you do not know! I've heard all the stories of Troy and how much she did for you- Do you think interfering this much is the norm for gods? Would any patron stand up to Zeus in their favour? Would anyone know their champion's preferred fruit? That goddess is gone for you, take it from me and all her other incredibly jealous followers. Anyone with eyes can see it."

Odysseus frowns, feeling uneasy about the picture she paints, how any other woman would take it. "Penelope, I'm sorry if- you- there's nothing-"

"Ah, yes, how woeful that I don't the troubles of a normal wife with a husband blessed by a god," Penelope snarks. "Would have to deal with the incredibly cruel fate of watching my incredibly attractive husband fuck my incredibly attractive patron goddess, but no, I had to get stuck with the only two idiots who don't enjoy a good coupling and couldn't express an emotion if your lives depended on it-"

"Penelope! We're just friends!" Odysseus says loudly. "And more importantly, she's my goddess- the virgin goddess, if you've somehow forgotten- I would never-"

"Friends don't cuddle on the grass after spars and murmur to each other like that!" Penelope says louder, throwing her hands out. "And it's one thing for you to not know, you're married and dumb as a rock about it- what's her excuse for not knowing you're in love with her?"

Odysseus wheezes ungracefully, feeling somewhat like he's taken a fall off a tall flight of steps. "I'm not-"

"Oh, don't even try," Penelope rolls her eyes, sounding for all the world like they're having an argument about the curtains. All the women of the country would hate having to fight for their beloved's attention in the face of godliness, and here Odysseus has to deal with this woman sulking that he wasn't gone over- fuck, he can't even make himself think it. "You haven't heard yourself pray. Or talk to her. Or just talk about Athena in general."

"And, what," Odysseus demands, pushing himself up on his elbows, staring at her in disbelief. "You're fine with this?"

"Fine?" Penelope looks at him like he's the crazy one here. "I've been waiting for weeks for something to happen! Oh gods- do you seriously not know?"

"There's nothing to know!" Odysseus shouts. "I'm not- she's not-"

"Unbelievable," Penelope says, putting her face in her hands.

"What is wrong with you?" Odysseus bursts out as the craziness of the situation finally bursts upon him. "Are you mental?"

"How am I mental?" Penelope throws her hands up. "It's true!"

"It's-" Odysseus' denial dies on his tongue as his mind forces him to consider it without his consent, and. Well.

"You're mad," He says quickly, and flops back down face-first into the pillow. Penelope hollers in victorious, mocking laughter overhead and he reaches out to tickle her to get her to stop. She squeals and a smile catches on his lips- he's too weak to her laughter to not follow up.

"Is this- ah, stop!- the thanks I get?" Penelope demands a few minutes of struggling later, giggling still. "Just you wait- Athena! Oh goddess of the iron and loom, the spear and thread- AH!"

"Have you lost your mind?" Odysseus demands, shaking her by the hand over her mouth, half-laughing himself.

"Trust me!" Penelope drawls, eyes sparking with cunning. His smile falters in the face of it, beautiful though it makes her look, as the rest of the night comes rushing back and with it, the possibilities of absolute disaster that his wife was clearly heading towards in her delusions.

"Penelope, listen-" Odysseus sighs, but before he can say anything more, she's reached out and snapped off one of the branches from their tree.

"ATHENA!" She yells, loud enough that Odysseus rocks back from the force of it, then rocks back forward from the sharp familiar crack from the back of the room.

"I am not a dog!" Athena snaps, hands thrown out and curled into claws the way it only gets when she's really annoyed. Odysseus has one brief moment of considering wildly every direction he can fling himself towards to hide in the mere seconds he has before her gaze falls upon him, but it's already too late.

"YOU!" Athena snarls, still in her white robes, eyes blazing with anger. Odysseus yelps and scrambles backwards, pointing at Penelope with one hand and raises the other in mute surrender.

Athena growls like a lion and stalks to the bed, fists clenched at her sides. Her hair is raised up like a bush, as if she was running her fingers through it, making her look more crazed than he's ever seen her.

"I. Fucking." Athena slams a hand and leg down on either side of him, glaring still, making the bed shake as she climbs over him. "Despise. You."

Odysseus' words falter on his lips as he looks up at her, feels the pieces fall into place as fast as falling marbles seeing his own emotions reflected in her eyes- longing and confusion and hesitation and hilariously, the same little bit of disgust- and he reaches up the same time she leans down and-

Athena makes a noise and abruptly pushes her face off to the side so his lips drag across her browbone. He stares up at the ceiling for a few moments with the crushing anxiety of what did I just do, before he feels Athena shiver against him and automatically wraps all limbs around her in an embrace borne of some animal instinct to keep a person warm.

She obligingly shrinks down to human proportions and clings back. Every last argument, every last stilted apology feels like it pales in face of this embrace, like it finally has settled in for both of them that it's over. He no longer has to be her warrior, just her friend. That they'll be alright.

He has a feeling they both might be crying a little.

"See!" Penelope chirps and they both nearly jump out of their skin. "Told you."

"Yes, yes," Odysseus gripes, Athena scowling up at her grumpily. Penelope smiles wider and he feels them both soften grudgingly, Athena sighing as Odysseus pulls Penelope down to kiss her. "You were right."

"Hm," Penelope preens, rolling closer to both of them and throwing an arm over Athena's lower back. The goddess looks at her narrowly, and she grins back.

Athena huffs in acceptance and closes her eyes, shifting minutely to allow Penelope to stroke up and down her back curiously, playing with the feathers at the nape of her neck. Penelope's going to try kissing her tomorrow, she wearily thinks.

"You didn't win that round, by the way," She says suddenly and Penelope snorts.

Odysseus makes a loud noise of offense. "Of course I did-"

[clumsyclifford]

I think u said that you’d still like some more prompts, so #89 “I noticed” with either muke or malum pls ♥️

well i asked pairing bot and it said muke, so there you go. thank you @allsassnoclass for helping me Establish The Setting of this fic. by which i mean Providing The Setting For Me. a gift to us all, that hazel

also as resident walking advertisement for @calumsclifford‘s fics i am contractually obliged to redirect you to her bookstore fic which is an absolute delight

read on ao3

-

Nothing hits quite like the atmosphere of a bookstore.

Shelves of books, racks of vinyls, displays advertising “Staff Picks” — the allure of the local bookstore will never not work magic on Luke. Even the pop music trickling down from the built-in ceiling speakers is charming, rather than annoying.

“Okay, go find your book,” Ashton says. “I’m gonna go in the nonfiction section if you need me.”

“Sure thing, old man,” Luke says. 

Ashton scoffs. “I like nonfiction. If that makes me an old man, then so be it.”

“Hey, I’m not judging.”

“You are judging so hard, and I don’t even care. I’m going to go browse autobiographies and I’m going to fucking like it.” With this final word, Ashton marches in the direction of the nonfiction books. Luke watches him, smirking, until he vanishes into the shelves, and then he makes for the young adult section on the other side of the shop. If this book is going to be anywhere, it’ll be there.

As always, he’s immediately drawn off-course.

The staff picks catch his eye. Normally Luke breezes past them, but this time he spies a cover he actually recognises: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, a book he’d read only a few months ago. As his gaze shifts lower, it catches on the note underneath the book, identifying the name of the staff member whose recommendation he’s enjoying: Michael. Next to his name is a short note about his choice. Luke steps closer to read it.

Philosophy and boys in love. And a general distaste for wearing shoes. What else do you need?

Luke smiles and reaches for the book. He’s already read it and he has a copy at home; he’s not going to buy the copy, but it’s nice to hold it in his hands anyway, flip through the pages and feel the air shift as he does.

“Good choice,” says an unfamiliar voice. Luke lifts his head and almost drops the book.

Woah. Cute boy alert. Extremely cute boy red alert. The levels of cute on this boy are enough to make Luke want to call Ashton over for backup. He’s terrible with cute boys, especially cute boys that also look really cool like this one, with bright red hair and a pierced eyebrow and a Nirvana t-shirt. Add that to the fact that he evidently has some degree of good taste in literature, considering he’s just complimented Luke’s selection, and Luke is flailing out of his depth.

In the deeply awkward pause before Luke remembers he’s supposed to say something to Cute Boy, his gaze travels to the nametag pinned to Cute Boy’s shirt. MICHAEL, it announces in block letters, and Luke puts two and two together.

“Oh, you too,” Luke says, which is a surprisingly coherent thing to say. All things considered it could have gone a lot worse. Which it then proceeds to do. “You’re the Michael who picked this? I guess? You — your nametag says Michael, so— I was just assuming. Which I know you’re not supposed to do because it makes an ass out of you and me, but since you said it was a good choice…”

Michael slowly smiles. “Yeah, I’m the Michael. You are?”

An easy question. Thank fuck. “Luke. I’m Luke.”

Michael hums and nods at the book. “Have you read it?”

Luke tries to take a discreet deep breath. “Yeah, I did. A few months ago. I might be due for a reread.”

“Well, it’s one of my favourites,” Michael comments. “So I’ll always be on the side of an Ari and Dante reread.”

“Yeah,” Luke says, nodding like this makes perfect sense. It does, but God, he doesn’t have to nod like a crazy person. “Yeah. Good point.” Then, directly contradicting this concurrence, he sets the book back down on the display. “I’ve got this at home, though. I’m actually here for a different book.”

“Oh, perfect,” says Michael, straightening up. “Then I can do my real job. What can I help you find?”

Luke does not need help finding this book, but he would be a complete idiot to refuse the help of Cute Bookstore Employee Michael. “Uh, The Cursed Child. I know it came out a while ago but I just haven’t had the chance to get it and I really wanted to get it from a bookstore, rather than online, you know?”

Michael brightens. “Oh, I can definitely find that for you. Follow.” He gestures, and Luke falls into step with him as they make for the young adult shelves, completing Luke’s aborted mission from earlier. “You want my opinion on the book, or you want it to remain a complete mystery?”

“You’ve read it? Are you a Harry Potter fan?” Luke asks, far too eagerly. Sheepish, he bites his lip, sneaking a glance at Michael to see him smile. “Uh, sorry. I’m— I really like Harry Potter, like, a lot.”

“I noticed,” Michael says, nodding at Luke, who glances down at himself. 

“Oh,” he says, chuckling at his Deathly Hallows shirt. “I honestly didn’t do that on purpose. I wasn’t thinking about it at all.”

“Your subconscious enabling your love of Harry Potter, clearly,” Michael says. “Yeah, I like it. Not my favourite series, but it’s good. I mostly only read Cursed Child because I was bored, but—” He breaks off. “Sorry. Won’t spoil it.”

Luke grapples with himself. On the one hand, he is the most averse to spoilers of anyone he’s ever met. If it’s a book he’s looking forward to reading, he will ban all family and friends from even discussing it in his presence, lest their opinions on it taint his before he’s able to read it and draw his own conclusions. And this isn’t just any book; it’s Cursed Child, the long-awaited spin-off, the first official continuation of the Harry Potter ‘verse in years. No, he doesn’t want Michael’s opinion on it. He doesn’t want anyone’s opinions. He hasn’t even read the summary for the book on Goodreads. The more blind Luke goes into this, the better.

On the other hand, though.

Well, on the other hand, Michael is a cute boy who’s offering to talk to Luke about a book.

As a compromise, Luke says, “Honestly, I would really like to know your thoughts, but not until I’ve finished reading it.”

Michael glances over at him as they slow to a stop in front of one of the shelves. There’s a smile playing at his lips, a slight raise to his eyebrows, like he’s pleasantly surprised by something Luke’s done. What that thing might be, Luke has no idea. “Okay,” says Michael. “That’s fair. How about I give you my number, and when you finish reading it you can call or text and we can discuss it then?”

Luke blinks. Then blinks again. Is Michael flirting with him? He must be, but at the same time there’s absolutely no way.

And — wait. Does Michael think Luke was flirting with him? Was Luke? Not intentionally, but that’s only because he doesn’t know how to flirt and he’s fucking awful at it. Somehow, he’s managed to unintentionally flirt his way into getting Michael’s number.

Woah. Bookstores really are magical.

“Yeah, yes, that sounds great,” Luke says, clumsily digging out his phone. He unlocks it and passes it to Michael, who has an amused look on his face. “We could, um…get coffee or something?”

“Works for me,” Michael says. While he enters his number into Luke’s phone, Luke turns to the shelf. His attention immediately snags on his target: a block of bright yellow covers. Luke tugs at one, freeing it from its siblings, and brushes a reverent hand over the brand new dust jacket. 

“I mean, say what you will, but it sure is a pretty fucking book,” he says, kind of to himself.

Michael chuckles. “Yeah. The second-prettiest thing in this bookstore, maybe.”

For the second time, Luke almost drops the book in his hands. Instead he tightens his grip on it, looks up at Michael, and steels all his courage to say, “First being you, right?”

The smile on Michael’s face is worth the risk of embarrassment, Luke quickly realises. And this, he senses, had clearly been the right thing to say. Michael hands Luke’s phone back to him an says, “I’m going to let you have the last word, because I think you’re cute and that was unexpectedly smooth. If you need me, I’ll be around, probably doing work that will be less important than anything you will have to say to me.”

Luke feels a blush colour his cheeks, but if Michael notices he doesn’t say anything. With a wave and what looks like a halfway bow, he backs out of the aisle, and Luke watches him until he veers off and disappears from view.

Everything from entering this bookstore onward feels like a fever dream. Luke glances down at his phone screen, and when he sees how Michael’s entered his name — Michael (The Real Cursed Child) — the giggle of disbelief building in his throat quickly turns to a laugh. If it is a fever dream, Luke hopes it never, ever ends.