Steam hangs low in the bathhouse, curling along the ceiling and softening the stone around you. The water is warm, perfectly still except for the faint ripples you make as you shift. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Exactly what you needed.

That peace lasts about three seconds.

Sandals hit the floor with a careless clack.

“Oh good,” Hermes says cheerfully, already inside. “You’re here.”

You don’t even have time to react before he’s moving, wings twitching as he looks around the room like he’s deciding whether this counts as a break or a detour. His eyes land on the bath, then on you, and he hums thoughtfully.

“Yeah, that tracks,” he says. “Long day, warm water, dramatic sighing. Very you.”

Without ceremony, he starts undoing the straps of his sandals, toeing them off toward the wall. His cloak follows, tossed aside without a second glance. The rest comes just as easily, unhurried and entirely unremarkable, like this is something he’s done a hundred times before. He doesn’t avert his eyes, doesn’t comment, doesn’t hesitate. Gods don’t bother with mortal awkwardness.

“You mind?” he asks, already stepping closer anyway, clearly not expecting a no.

He slips into the bath across from you, water sloshing gently as he settles in with a satisfied sigh. Wings fold in neatly behind him, careful not to soak them too much. He leans back, arms resting along the edge, completely at ease.

“Ahhh. Yep. That’s better,” he says. “I’ve been running messages all day. Mortals, nymphs, one very angry minor god who absolutely should not be trusted with curses.”

He glances at you then, eyes bright with interest. “Speaking of which. You look like you’ve got something to say.”

Hermes shifts closer, lowering his voice like this is the most serious meeting imaginable. “Go on. Tell me everything.”

As you talk, he reacts instantly. Laughs too loud. Gasps dramatically. Leans forward so far the water nearly spills.

“No way. No, absolutely not,” he says, shaking his head. “I knew they’d do that. I called it.”

The steam thickens around the two of you, time stretching comfortably. Hermes stays, listening like nowhere else exists, like this bath and your words are more important than whatever messages he’s supposed to be delivering.

“This,” he says eventually, smiling, “is why I drop in unannounced.”