Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Alright!” Odysseus says, checking his appearance in the mirror one last time before turning to face the others. “Runway in five minutes! Everyone, listen up!” 

“Oh my god,” Neo grumbles, throwing his hands up and retreating as far away as he can in the tiny dressing room. “Guys, he’s doing the pep talk thing again! Someone gag him before I lose my mind!” 

“Shut up, Neo,” he says cheerfully. “Alright, my brothers, listen closely-” 

“Don’t call us that,” Diomedes groans, tipping his head back in the makeup chair. “It was weird the first time you said it. It’s still weird.” 

Odysseus ignores him. “Tonight, we’re making them all pay.” 

“Who are you talking about? The buyers? The media?” Menelaus says blearily, slumping onto the floor. His brother Agamemnon nearly yanks his arm out of his socket to prevent him from messing up the hairstyle that had taken the artists roughly an hour and a half to get right. Menelaus moans. “Ugh, let me sleep. I only got three hours last night.” 

“I only got two,” Agamemnon counters. “And you’d never know it to look at me.” 

To be fair, he is right. The makeup artists have gone above and beyond, as always - Odysseus himself woke up with eye bags darker than his mascara, but one look in the mirror now tells him that it’d be impossible for anyone but Penelope to tell. 

He lets a corner of his lip turn up in a smile. Penelope. It’d been so long since he’d last seen her. 

“Captain looks lovesick again!” Teucer shouts, and mimes gagging. “Thinking about the boss, you think?” Nestor, their assigned bodyguard-slash-escort standing near the door, snickers and high-fives Ajax, the intern sitting next to him. 

“N- No!” Odysseus stammers, and then flushes at Diomedes’s raised eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s not- I mean-” He almost puts his face in his hands before he realizes it’d smear his makeup. “Don’t call me ‘Captain’, Teucer.” 

“But you’re the captain of our sinking ship, Captain!” 

“Whoa, whoa, hold on.” Agamemnon, the absolute jerk, is not nearly as eager to let him change the subject. “You don’t find Penelope pretty, then?” 

“Of- Of course I do!” he says, and immediately regrets it as the dressing room erupts in hoots and whistles. “Shut up! Our fashion brand’s named after her! Of course she’s pretty!” 

“He thinks she’s pretty-”

“Okay, look, we’re on in four! Everyone just listen! Think about your-” 

“Are you going to do the thing about our wives and children again?” Neo says. “Bro. I’m too young to keep hearing that.” 

“I’m literally the only one here with a wife,” Menelaus mumbles. “God, I miss her. I haven’t talked to her for like ten years.” 

“She dropped us off four hours ago,” Agamemnon counters, swatting him as he tries to nod off again. “Stay awake.” 

“Ughhhhhh,” Menelaus groans, and Odysseus frowns. 

“My point,” he says, rapidly trying to remember what he was talking about, “is that you need to do what I say, and you’ll see your families again.” 

“THREAT!” Neo screams. He points at Odysseus, eyes comically wide. “That was a threat! I’m being threatened! Stranger danger! See something, say something! Another slogan about personal safety and mandatory reporting! Nestor! Get him!” 

Their bodyguard raises a perfect eyebrow, not moving. Neo rolls his eyes and slumps against the wall. 

“Come on, man,” Diomedes says, grinning. “You could have at least tackled him or something. Given us some entertainment.” 

“Not paid enough for that,” Nestor says flatly. 

“And Odysseus,” Diomedes says, swiveling on his chair, “you need to figure out how to talk like you’re not about to kill us.” 

“I will kill you,” he says through gritted teeth, “if you don’t listen to the plan.” 

“We did rehearsals yesterday! And the day before! How would we forget-”

“Then you know you’re first down the runway, don’t you?” 

“Of course I do! The most handsome guy obviously has to go first! Literally what are you not getting-” 

“Most handsome?” Teucer scowls. “I think not. Your arms are far too weak, unlike-” 

“If you start talking about your ‘archer’s physique’ again I’m going to lose it,” Agamemnon warns. “That’s not a real thing.” 

“Spoken like a man who’s never picked up a bow in his life,” Teucer sniffs, and Odysseus rushes between them before Agamemnon can commit a murder - or worse, wrinkle his clothes. 

“Let’s keep this on track!” he shouts. “Agamemnon, you come on next, flanking him. Understand?” 

“Picked up a bow,” he’s muttering furiously, staring daggers at Teucer. “Like you didn’t just go to your two-bit local indoor archery range once and decide it was your thing.”

Teucer gives the convincing illusion of tossing his gelled hair while not moving it at all. “Sounds to me like you’re jealous.” 

“Jeal-”

“Agamemnon!” Odysseus shouts. “Understand?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says unconvincingly, but that’ll have to wait, because a glance at his watch tells Odysseus they have about three minutes left. 

“Okay, and then Menelaus will- Menelaus!” 

“Wasn’t sleeping!” Menelaus screams back, jerking upwards and wiping the drool off his chin. “I wasn’t!” 

“We’re on in three!” Odysseus yells. 

“Well, I’m awake!” 

“This house isn’t a nightmare, it’s a sleep paralysis demon,” Neo groans incomprehensibly. “I keep trying to wake up and I never do.”

“Tell me about it,” Menelaus grumbles, and Odysseus tries not to punch him. 

“You’re leading the other models into the four-person runway presentation,” he grits out. “Do you remember?” 

“What? Yeah, sure.” 

“You’re supposed to grab everyone’s attention. Take them all by storm. You can’t do that if you’re asleep.”

“I’m not asleep!” 

“You better not be! Teucer, you’re-” 

“I’m the ambush attack,” he declares, jumping to his feet and miming nocking an arrow. “I’m going to knock them all off their feet. I’m going to shoot all the guests through the heart.” 

“Here’s a tip,” Nestor says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t say shoot all the guests in the middle of the highest-security event of the season.” 

“With- With my beauty! With the clothes I’m wearing! It’s an archery metaphor!”  

“You understand, though, how that isn’t clear to any sane person,” Nestor says blandly as Agamemnon shouts, “If you talk about archery one more time-” 

“Guys! Two minutes!” Odysseus shouts. “Teucer, I was going to say you’re on after me. Ajax, you’re staying back with Nestor, who’s going to keep the room secure. You can observe, but interns shouldn’t be anywhere near the runway.” 

“Yes, sir,” Ajax says, utterly respectful and obedient in the way every single other person here isn’t, and Odysseus wants to hug him. He doesn’t, though. He can already hear the audience start to applaud for the hosts. There’s no time. 

“Neo! You’re closing the show. Avenge your father, yeah?” 

“Dad retired from modeling. He’s not dead,” Neo says, rolling his eyes. “He’s even attending today.” 

Ajax squeaks loudly. “The Achilles? The country’s most famous model? He’s in the audience?” 

“Yeah,” Neo says shortly. “With his dumb boyfriend.”

Odysseus, about to tell them to shut the yapping, frowns. “Didn’t he marry Patroclus?” 

Neo grimaces. “Please don’t remind me. They’re so annoying about each other.” 

“The Patroclus?” Ajax screams. Neo groans. 

“Okay, okay, pull it together,” Odysseus says, clapping his hands. “One minute. Find your inner strength, men. Draw from your well of pride. Fight through the pain.” 

“Pain?” Diomedes says, alarmed. “What are you talking about?”

Odysseus ignores him. “What do you live for? What do you try for? What do you wish for? What do you fight for?” 

His friends stare at him blankly. 

“The Captain’s lost it,” Neo stage-whispers. 

“What I mean is,” Odysseus clarifies, “when you go out there, what are you going to be thinking about? What’s it all for?”

Agamemnon frowns. “Can you answer that?”

He doesn’t even need to think about it. He remembers the way his fiancée had kissed him before they’d left the house this morning, how she’d laughed so hard she’d cried at the dumb romcom they’d watched the night before, how she looks at him like he’s her whole world and knows he feels the same way about her. Their relationship’s a secret one, since though they’d loved each other for years they knew the strain it’d have on their careers if they made that love public too early. But they’ve chosen a venue for this summer, and they’ve started looking at rings for the ceremony, proper rings, wedding rings, and they’re going to start telling people soon, and the glitz and glamor of runway shows is one thing but it’s nothing compared to the soft comfort of being anywhere with her, and- yeah, he knows what he’s fighting for. “Penelope.” 

“You admit it?” Agamemnon says excitedly. “You like her?” 

He almost agrees before he remembers that he’s not supposed to do that yet, at which point he looks up at his friends’ gossip-hungry faces and panics. “What? No!” 

“You said her name!”

“I- I meant the company! Penelope, the brand!” 

“You’re not fooling anybody!”

“I don’t know what you’re-” 

“Odysseus?” says the most beautiful voice he’s ever heard in his life. He’s already smiling before he turns around. 

“Penelope,” he greets. She’s in a glittering carmine blazer dress with long silver earrings and sparkling gladiator heels, haloed by the backstage lighting like the angel she is, looking even more beautiful than ever - which isn’t something he’d known was possible - and he swallows around his suddenly dry throat. Oh, he loves her. 

“I’ve been waiting,” she says, gazing at him, and the world melts away until it’s just them, and he steps toward her, smiling, because she’s been waiting for him and he’s here and it’s been hours and he just wants to hold her-

“Well?” she says, looking beyond him, and he blinks. 

The rest of the world rushes in, as does Penelope’s… irked expression. 

“Uh, waiting for what?” he says dumbly. 

“To get on the runway? We’re on in t-minus zero, they’ve introduced us and everything, what is Diomedes still doing here?”

“Oh, god,” he blurts, and shoves Diomedes - who’s already moving, thankfully - towards the door. “I’m so sorry, Pen- uh, Ms. Penelope, I mean- I really thought- honestly, I was trying to keep us on schedule, I’m so sorry!” 

“Odysseus can’t possibly like her,” Ajax whispers not-so-quietly to Nestor, who’s doing his best impression of an impassive stone wall. “If he did, he would’ve been more careful to be on time, wouldn’t he?” 

Odysseus wants to sink into the floor at the perfectly plucked eyebrow Penelope raises at him. God, he’s a terrible fiancé and a worse man. If only he hadn’t wasted all that time, idiot, idiot-

“Oh, and Odysseus?” Penelope says, saccharine in the way that instantly sounds alarm bells in his mind. Diomedes hesitates in the doorway, glancing backwards. 

“Yes, Ms. Penelope?” Odysseus says tentatively. 

“I forgive you for your tardiness.” 

“…Thank you, Ms. Penelope.” 

“Oh, but I think I should prove it.” She steps toward him, chin raised and eyes glinting with mischief. “A token of my appreciation,” she murmurs, and kisses him gently on the lips. 

Stars are born and die behind his eyelids. He’s not quite sure how long the kiss lasts except for that it’s several eternities and also not nearly long enough. When she pulls back, he sways forward dazedly, almost unconsciously chasing her. 

“It’s cute that one kiss from me can still reduce you to this,” she says, smirking. “Good luck out there. See you at home, love.” 

“Penelope,” he says, strangled, because now that his brain is coming back online he can see the half-incredulous, half-ecstatic looks his friends are sending him and he does not want to be alone with them barely minutes before he’s on runway at a major fashion show. They’d agreed to start telling people, but not like this. “You can’t just-” 

“Goodbye!” she says cheerfully, sweeping away after blowing him a kiss, though not before snapping, “Diomedes, if you’re not on stage in five seconds I’m going to end you,” because she’s versatile and he loves her for it. 

After she leaves, Neo and Ajax scream directly in his ear and Agamemnon and Teucer do the same, though an octave or two lower. “You’ve KISSED BEFORE?”

“MS. PENELOPE calls you ‘LOVE’?”

“You LIVE TOGETHER?”

“You DO like her, I KNEW IT!”

Even Nestor raises a judgemental eyebrow at him. Odysseus huffs. 

At least Menelaus isn’t screaming at me, he thinks, and immediately realizes how implausible that is, unless-

He whirls around. 

“Oh my god, MENELAUS! WAKE UP!”