Hermes — Beginning

Ages: Travis (1) + Connor (0)

Hermes can still remember the day he met her.

A drunken night out with his two half-brothers. Strobe lights flickering over confetti littered asphalt. L.A. club music pounding through the still night. A slender body pressed against his back.

He remembered a voice, almost angel-like, saying hello. Molten caramel eyes that dance under the light. Laugh twinkling with genuine mirth. Hair, thin and hazelnut, threading through ringless fingers. A smile that draws him in and makes him yearn for more.

Raven Stoll was wild, free-spirited, and had stolen Hermes's heart when she stole his wallet that night.

There was the initial sadness at first, waking up to an empty bed. But Hermes suppose it's best. After all, what happened with May, with Luke, would never happen if he didn't love and cared so much.

Hermes gathered his belongings, checked his emails, groaned at the messages, and promptly took off, hand absent-mindedly searching for his wallet. Thoughts of last night have all but left his mind.

Nine months later, Travis Stoll was born in the bathtub of a cheap, rusty apartment of downtown San Francisco.

His screaming filled the night sky as he came into the world.

His mother picked up her bags and leave to fill her job as a con-man. In a flash of white light, Hermes appeared and picked him up from the cold tiles, wrapping him in a blanket and laying him on a couch. He wrote a mental note to himself to guide his son to Camp Half Blood when he's older. Then he disappeared to finish his deliveries and soon forgot about his son's existence.

It's not like he didn't care. He cares for all his children!

He was a busy god with numerous children all around the world. He can't honestly be expected to remember each and every child he ever had. It's preposterous and frankly impossible. Especially if the parent drops all contact with him and the child foregoes praying.

The only sure days he'll greet them are on their birthdays and their deathdays.

A year passed in relative peace. Hermes delivered his mail, worried about Luke, about May. He slept with women and men alike, drinking his troubles away at bars every other night.

When Hermes appeared into his newest born son's room, he was struck with deja vu. The room was strangely familiar, the darkness dashed only by the moonlight. Cooing brought Hermes's attention to the lump on the couch. A baby stared back with wide, caramel eyes and Hermes know that face. He had stared at the same face a year ago in the same dark room.

A tugging on his flying shoes made him look down. An infant, with a mop of curly brown hair, was grasping at the feathers of his shoe. Dread filled Hermes.

He bent to his knees, picking up the infant by the armpits. The baby giggled and clapped its chubby hands.

"Travis?"

"Dada!"

Connor Stoll, as much as Hermes hates to admit it, was a mistake, an accident, a blunder, a result of a drunken night out in the slums of San Francisco's night bars with his ractactious half-brothers. (Note to self: never go partying with Ares and Apollo ever again.)

There's a reason most gods and goddesses don't stay long-the fear of a second kid.

One demigod is enough to perk the ears of nearby monsters. Two in one centralized location is just a screaming radar. It brought more monsters than one mortal can handle and their mother definitely did not handle it.

She did not even acknowledge it.

Hermes can count on one hand the amount of times he has seen Raven in the apartment in the six years he took care of them. He sometimes wondered how Travis made it through his first year of life with such a negligent mother.

Taking care of the two infants-well, he didn't take care of them per say. Martha and George checked up on them daily, made sure they have food to eat, made sure they are warm, made sure they are entertained. But he himself definitely made sure they are clean. Hermes has given them the task of changing diapers before and the end result was not one Hermes would like to see again.

Anyway, taking care of the two infants helped reinforce his resolve to never have more than one children with the same woman.

As the father and a god, one should expect Hermes to be able to tell the Stoll brothers apart.

And he can, with 100% accuracy.

Back when they were toddlers.

Travis was the one who could walk. Connor was the one who crawls. Travis can talk and Connor babbles. Travis is bigger and Connor is smaller.

Then the years passed and the differences diminished. They both grew to the same height, both have the same voice with the same inflections, both have the same interests and hobbies, and both love not telling Hermes who is who.

George and Martha were no help whatsoever, hissing comments such as "Travis is the one who hums" or "Connor is the one who likes rock music" when both brothers were doing the same exact activity.

He thanked the fates the brothers didn't seem to mind him calling them by the wrong name. It was a blessing actually. They would giggle when he called them by the wrong name and with their high-pitched voice preeminent in all toddlers, they would say, "Nope, Daddy. Try again."

They smile at him, with all the love of a child. Pure and devoted. Innocent and free.

He thought of Luke and how he'll never smile like that at him.

It's unfair of him. It's cruel. It's giving false hope, that their father will be a constant in their life, but Hermes can't bear himself to leave. Not just yet. Not when one of his children despises him and two adore him.

He won't admit it, but it fills the gap of being a disappointment.

Then Luke ran away and Hermes dropped Travis and Connor off at an orphanage, the older 7 and the younger 6.

Hermes tells himself there was a multitude of reasons why he's leaving.

His mail was piling up and complaints were filing in.

Zeus was not pleased with his lack of complete effort in his job and demands him to work overtime.

The orphanage will do a better job as their caretaker. They are equipped with the tools of raising children rather than their father who's gone all day and half the night.

The brothers are old enough to watch each other's back when monsters do come.

They have celestial weapons.

They'll be fine.

He has done all he can and it's more than enough.

This is what he tells himself as he closes the door to the old, rickety children's home.

It's what he tells himself, again and again, repeating it like a mantra, when twin pairs of eyes stared at him from the windows, hurt and confused.

He burns the words into his mind as he slips his flying shoes on, as Connor's small voice asked from open windows, "When are you coming back?" as Travis says, "Dad? You are coming back, right?"

And as Hermes took off, looking back, he told himself that the sadness in their eyes was better than burning hatred. It's better to see sad eyes then hating eyes. That their eyes were better to see than Luke's.

But he's lying to himself again. They all hurt the same.

Author's Notes:

So this is my first time doing something like this where there's no plot and just one shot after one shot. But I always wanted to do something like this and since the Stoll brothers are my favorite characters, I decided why not. Let's do it! I'm also open to your guys/gals' ideas too! (character + object + (optional) any specific events) So just pm/comment me if you want. I also have a tumblr! It's called Strikeanew and it's a mess of all my fandom love. If you ever want someone to talk/rant/bother, I am always on there...procrastinating when I should be studying or writing.

I don't have a set update schedule. Sorry. It is more of a write-when-I-have-the-time.