After the Fangshade fight and Dionysus’s “I would happily bed both of you” energy, I needed a break. Preferably somewhere without sexy wine gods or flirt competitions. Or feelings.

So naturally, we were led to a hot spring.

“Are you kidding me?” Astronaros said as we stepped into the clearing. “This is a trap.”

Dionysus stretched, robes sliding off one shoulder. “No, this is a reward. You survived your first divine brush with death. Don’t look so suspicious.”

“I’m always suspicious when you’re smiling,” Astro muttered.

“You flatter me.”

Hermes, walking by shirtless for absolutely no reason, added, “You two should try relaxing. You’re always wound tighter than Apollo’s lyre strings.”

Hephaestus adjusted his toolbelt and cleared his throat. “The springs also have restorative properties. For muscle recovery. It’s not just… for leisure.”

I should’ve listened to the warning bells in my head. But my legs hurt, my shoulders ached, and let’s be honest—part of me wanted to be near them. Not just the gods. Him too.

Astronaros.

We didn’t talk about what happened with Dionysus. Not a word. But he hadn’t let go of my wrist for a full minute afterward.

So now, half-naked in hot water that smelled faintly of eucalyptus and divinity, I was trying very hard not to look at him.

He was across the spring, arms on the stone edge, wet hair slicked back, jaw tense.

I was definitely not looking at his collarbone.

Dionysus was already lounging like a nymph in a painting, half his chest glistening, wine floating beside him in a cup he didn’t even hold.

Hephaestus joined last, easing in with a low sigh, muscles tense from forge-work. His cheeks pinked slightly as he sat next to me—next to me, not across from me—and folded his arms across his chest like he was trying to take up less space.

"You alright?" I asked, genuinely.

He blinked, clearly startled I’d spoken to him. "Oh. Uh. Yes. Water’s just… warm."

“That’s kind of the point.”

“Right. I mean, yes. I know. Just. It’s nice.”

We sat in silence for a moment. A warm, oddly intimate one.

Then Dionysus floated closer, lazily. “You two look cozy. Should I give you some alone time? Or join and make it cozier?”

Astro made a strangled noise. “Can’t we just have one peaceful moment without innuendo?!”

“Absolutely not,” Dionysus said, raising his glass. “It’s against my religion.”

I opened my mouth to change the subject—and immediately regretted it.

“So…” I said. “Do gods ever… you know. Date mortals?”

Dionysus perked up. “All the time. Sometimes for centuries. Sometimes just for breakfast. Depends on the mood.”

Hephaestus looked at me, surprised. Then lowered his gaze like the water had suddenly become interesting.

Astro narrowed his eyes. “Why are you asking that?”

I blinked. “No reason.”

“No reason?” Dionysus echoed. “Is that what we’re calling obvious yearning now?”

“I am not yearning!”

“Sure,” Dionysus smirked. “That’s why you’ve been glancing at him”—he pointed at Astro—“like he hung the constellations, and him”—Hephaestus—“like you want to melt into his forge.”

I turned so red I might’ve invented a new color.

Astro sank lower into the water. “This is a nightmare.”

Hephaestus coughed. “I, um… think it’s kind of flattering.”

We both turned to look at him.

He immediately looked down again. “I mean. If someone did look at me like that. Not that you did. Or. You know. I’m going to stop talking now.”

A beat of silence.

Then Dionysus clapped. “Gods, I love this dynamic. The shy one, the broody one, the one in denial. You’re like a romantic prophecy waiting to explode.”

I stood up so fast I splashed water everywhere. “I’m going to go… dry off. Before I drown. Emotionally.”

Astro stood too. “Same.”

Hephaestus hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I’ll… keep soaking. Enjoy the silence.”

As I walked away, towel around my shoulders and thoughts spiraling, Astronaros caught up to me. We didn’t speak at first.

But then, as we crossed through the trees, he quietly said, “You know… if you did look at him like that… I wouldn’t be mad.”

I turned to him, surprised. “You wouldn’t?”

He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. “I’m just saying. I get it.”

There was a heartbeat of quiet.

Then I said, “You looked kind of mad when Dionysus flirted with me.”

“I wasn’t mad,” he muttered. “Just… caught off guard.”

“Oh.”

Another pause.

Then, almost too soft to hear:

“But yeah. I didn’t love it.”

My heart did a very stupid thing in my chest.

We didn’t say anything else. Just walked in silence back to camp.

But everything had changed.

Something unspoken now walked beside us.

And it was loud.