The first thing Hermes noticed was the smile.
Raphael didn’t flinch under the accusation, didn’t fold his arms in defense, didn’t bristle. He only sat straighter, posture immaculate, and smiled as if this was all exactly as planned.
"I really do want to work with you, Hermes," Raphael said, tone as smooth as glass.
"I told you already. I don’t believe in overreach. The Thirteen Stripes must stay in their lanes. They were meant to protect balance, not seize control. That is why I need someone outside of it. Someone... less compromised."
The words fell neatly, each like a chess piece placed exactly where it belonged.
Hermes narrowed his eyes. "You expect me to believe that?"
"I expect you to think," Raphael replied. "And once you think it through, you’ll see the logic. If I tried this with anyone inside the Stripes, suspicion would devour us both. But with you..."
He tilted his head, that smile deepening. "Well, you’re the last person they’d expect me to confide in."
It was hard to argue. Hermes hated that. Hated that Raphael’s reasoning, infuriatingly calm, landed square. If anyone else had spilled this much, they’d already be dead. Yet Raphael had carved himself a crack in the wall and stepped through it like he owned the place.
And Hermes? Hermes had nothing to lose.
Especially now that...
He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "So this is why you revealed my powers to the public."
"Exactly." Raphael’s agreement was immediate, unwavering. Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by N()velFire.net
Raphael didn’t let the silence sit for too long, and explained. "The Stripes had plans for you. Their reveal was going to be... less charitable. A scandal. They wanted to frame you as a Threat. Someone dangerous, uncontrollable, unpredictable. Imagine the headlines. Golden Apple’s Copycat: Stealing Powers Since Day One."
Hermes’s chest clenched. He imagined it easily. Too easily.
"But," Raphael went on smoothly, "by using your aid in the Night Cyclops incident instead, the narrative changed. Now the world sees you as a savior. Someone clever, brave, resourceful. The Stripes can’t paint over that without exposing their own interference. Their card is gone. They can’t blackmail you with it anymore."
Hermes let out a bitter laugh under his breath. "So you did me a favor."
"Yes." Raphael didn’t blink. "You’re welcome."
Hermes almost stood, almost walked out right then. The arrogance in Raphael’s voice, the composure, the way he said you’re welcome as though he hadn’t just upended Hermes’s life. It all scraped raw.
Because deep down, he knew Raphael was right.
"Fine." Hermes’s voice came out rough, grating against his own throat. "You’ve made your move. What’s next?"
Raphael’s smile grew brighter, almost boyish, which somehow made it worse. "We become a duo."
Hermes blinked. "Excuse me?"
"A hero duo," Raphael repeated as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Together, visible, inseparable. The Stripes will assume I’m playing the long game. That I’m only cozying up to you to extract information about your powers, about your inner circle, about your vulnerabilities. And perhaps they’ll be right."
His eyes glittered with something Hermes couldn’t name. "But they’ll miss the truth... that it’s simply a way for us to speak freely. To plan. To watch them back."
Hermes’s lips curled in disbelief. "That’s ridiculous."
"Not at all. In fact, I always intended to position myself beside you. My application to Golden Apple was precisely for that reason. Unfortunately..."
Raphael spread his hands in mock regret. "They didn’t see my value. So, I need another justification. Another reason for us to be publicly bound."
Hermes had a terrible feeling where this was going. "And that reason is...?"
"As lovers, of course."
Hermes’s chair screeched across the marble floor as he nearly toppled out of it. "What?"
"It’s foolproof." Raphael’s voice was maddeningly calm. "If we present ourselves as a couple, then naturally we’ll spend time together, naturally we’ll coordinate, naturally we’ll exchange secrets. No one will question it. And the Stripes will think me clever for exploiting sentimentality to get closer to you."
Hermes’s throat went dry. "Absolutely not."
"All for show," Raphael said smoothly, holding up a hand as though Hermes were simply being dramatic. "It doesn’t have to mean anything. I’ve seen Conney read this book about two men who.... What was the word again? Fake dating?"
Hermes buried his face in his hands. He wanted to disappear into the floor. "Do you hear yourself? Those stories always end the same way."
Raphael’s brows lifted in polite curiosity. "Oh?"
Hermes groaned. "They always end with the fake dating becoming real dating."
Raphael’s smile flashed, sharp and amused. "How romantic."
Hermes shot to his feet. "No."
"But fiction isn’t real life, and this will work." Raphael countered, still seated, still perfectly composed. "Your enemies will be thrown into disarray. The press will eat it up. And in the meantime, we’ll have freedom. You’ll gain answers about the Stripes. I’ll gain leverage to keep them in check. It’s mutually beneficial."
Hermes pressed a hand against his forehead, half tempted to slam it into the wall. The worst part wasn’t the absurdity. The worst part was that it actually made sense.
He didn’t say yes. But he didn’t storm out either.
"I’ll think about it," Hermes muttered, low.
Raphael’s grin widened, triumphant. "Of course. Discuss it with your other lovers."
Hermes choked. His face went hot so quickly it made him dizzy. "They’re not—"
He stopped, words catching in his throat.
He wanted to argue, to insist, to spit back that they weren’t lovers, not really. But the truth tangled too much. They were something. Complicated, undefined, messy. He slept with them, yes. He leaned on them, yes. Wasn’t that what lovers do?
And that was enough to choke him into silence.
Raphael’s eyes twinkled. He didn’t press. He didn’t need to.
Hermes grabbed his jacket and headed for the door before Raphael could say anything else. The golden boy didn’t follow. He only raised a hand in farewell, serene as ever.
"Goodbye so soon." Raphael said lightly. "I hope to see you again."
Beside him, the robot maid mirrored the gesture, its painted smile identical. Too identical. Hermes’s skin prickled as he glanced back at them both.
Two smiles, bright and hollow. Two minds sealed tight.
Hermes turned away, his jaw clenched. He couldn’t shake the thought.
Raphael and his machine were the same. Friendly on the surface. Unreadable underneath.
What kind of lover would someone like that be like?