My Best Dress (Hades X OC)

The Kiss

He was such a dear boy.
She didn't trust him completely, it would have been foolish to do so. But he was very much like a child: surprisingly shy, but with an ache to please. It was in such a way that Chava couldn't find any part of herself to dislike him. He showed her many parts of the palace. His study was full of books, and she was surprised at the amount of tragic poems, romantic poems there were. His garden was the biggest she'd ever seen. It was a strange type that seemed as if it were inside a building, the ceiling made of glass. He called it a greenhouse. It was hard to tell if the plants were real or not. Many of them were ones even she couldn't identify, some with golden twigs and gemstone fruits. The leaves glowed. It was blissfully cool inside the place, and the air thick with the smell of ripe honeysuckle. Never had there been a most courteous gentlemen. When he invited her to sit beside him he never laid his hands on her other than the tips of her fingers, softly. He was not much of a talker, that much was clear, but neither was Chava. Instead they lay side by side in the grass and it was easy to enjoy this closeness, this serenity. It came as a shock to Chava that she had never felt so peaceful in her whole life. "It's ever so rare for me to be able to enjoy time to myself, but when I do I like it here. It's so lovely in the winter, I can't wait to show you."

     "Thank you, I'd love to see it."

     "It's times like these," he went on after a bit of silence, "that I remember that I'm different from my subjects. As in, I'm not from the underground. Not originally. Most of them... they can't stand the greenhouse. Thanatos complains it's too damp for him.
     But when I leave... I can't explain it. I become the very thing I preside over. A true melancholy."

     "Like the dead." Chava interceded, because she could understand that feeling. Oh, yes, she understood. "You feel as the dead."

     "Yes... that must be it." He looked at her shyly. "You must find me chatty." She shook her head, smiling indulgently. When he looked like that he reminded her of a bashful maiden, but she didn't want to tell him that. They stared at the ceiling of the greenhouse where some unknown source of light showed brilliantly. Somewhere off some kind of bug buzzed around some bushes. A mechanical bird tweeted. When she found herself beginning to get drowsy he turned on his side to face her. Due to some reflex or other she started and blinked at him. A faint healthy pink dusted the tips of his cheeks. "May I kiss you?" A more absurd question never once passed through Chava's ears. Perseus never hesitated to take what he wanted, and now here was the King of the Dead, asking if he might have permission for a kiss. Was there any other answer?

     "Of course you may." She felt the mirthful relieved sigh against her cheek. He propped himself up on his elbows, and when his lips touched hers she'd never felt a softer caress than water. His hands touched her neck, the side of her hair all gently as if she were glass. There was a faint smell of eucalyptus leaves on him, or mint. A clean fragrance. The tip of his tongue swept over the revive of her mouth and for a moment she feared he might try to force his way in, but he drew back, his face dreamy.

     "You taste like melons." She blushed, and when they relaxed in the garden the rest of the afternoon he held her whole hand, rubbing her knuckles as if they were precious things.

(A/n): we love an antisocial god who respects women. Also art above is by Denis Sarazhin. He's one of my favorite artists!! Check him out as denis_sarazhin on Instagram.