Storm [LAMS demigod AU]

Alex

Trigger warning: death mention, sex mention

A/N: Sorry that this chapter is a bit delayed. The month of July had honestly been horrendous. But things are a bit better now so I'm going to try to start updating more often. 

Alex had always thought that his nervous tics were bad.

He jiggled his leg up and down, which instantly landed him a spot on the "people I hate" list of whoever he happened to be sitting next to.

When he was particularly stressed, he had a horrible habit of scratching the backs of his hands. He would always tell people that the marks were from training with weapons. Nobody ever questioned him.

But neither of these were as bad as randomly shooting off sparks.

It started off subtle, nothing more than a slight tingle in his hands.

I must be gripping the reins too tightly. He thought. My hands are going numb because of how tightly I'm gripping Hector's reins.

Alex relaxed his grip slightly. For the very obvious reason of not wanting to fall off of the pegasus and plummet to his death, he couldn't relax it too much, but he relaxed it enough to make the tingling stop.

At least, it stopped temporarily.

After about fifteen minutes or so, the tingling returned.

It must be from the cold. Alex thought. After all, they were flying at a pretty high altitude. It was normal for it to be cold this high up.

But Alex had had cold hands before, and it hadn't felt like this. Usually when his hands were cold, they went completely numb. Alex's hands weren't numb. He could feel them perfectly. He could move them perfectly.

Alex tried to ignore it. His camp was in danger. He could soak his hands in warm water later. Now, he had a mission to complete. He was Praetor, and this was his duty.

Alex continued flying, keeping his eyes fixed on the back of Hector's head, watching the coarse auburn strands of his mane shift as the wind blew through them.

He could feel John's arms around his waist. He could feel John's chest rising and falling against his back. He could feel the warmth of John's skin through his cloak, armor, and t-shirt.

Maybe it's an Apollo thing. He thought. His father's the sun god. He radiates heat.

He remembered what John had told him about the Greek camp. Though he could never admit it to anyone, he found it fascinating. The Greek way of life, going off on your own and becoming your own hero, paving your own path and writing your own story.

The Roman legion was meant to work as a well-oiled machine. Everyone worked together, each soldier just another cog keeping the machine running. Nobody stood out, nobody was better than anyone else. The Romans valued service, valued putting the good of the legion over the good of each individual soldier.

The Greeks were an individualistic people. The valued glory and adventure. They dreamed of becoming heroes, of making names for themselves.

When Alex died, his legacy would be tied to the legacy of the legion.

When John died, his legacy would belong to no one but him.

Alex loved the Romans. They'd taken him in, given him the only real home he'd ever known, given him the only real friends he'd ever had.

He had no desire to abandon the legion and take up the Greek way of life. But still, his morbid curiosity was getting the better of him.

There were so many questions he wanted to ask John.