abarero: (Disney Heroine 02)
[personal profile] abarero posting in [community profile] heroescuties
Title: The Play's the Thing
Word Count: 1,375
Fandom:Disney's Hercules
Pairing: Megara/Hercules
Rating: PG
Summary: Hercules isn't too thrilled about his portrayal in a new play, so Meg gives him a pep talk.

Notes: I really hope you enjoy this! I apologize in advance for my inner Greek Theater nerd coming out. For anyone interested, the play at the heart of this is Aristophane's The Frogs.

The crowd cheered as the first prize was handed over to the playwright and more wine was handed around. Meg rolled her eyes, knowing that most of the people were more excited about wine at this point than whoever won the contest.

Adjusting her shrug, she glanced over at her companion, who had begun to sulk the moment they’d excused themselves from the throng of people. Even after the years they’d been together, her husband Hercules could still put on a pout that rivaled the cutest of children.

“What’s eating at you, Wonder Boy?”

He started, his blue eyes wide as if he’d been caught stealing a snack from the vase. Meg just tugged him over closer and poked him in the ribs.

“You look like you’ve eaten a veggie pita Phil cooked for himself.”

Hercules cracked a small smile at that and nervously reached down to take Meg’s hand. “Sorry, just wondering when I became such a joke. Am I really seen that way now?”

Ah, so that was it. It was okay for these comedy writers to go poking fun at the politicians, but this one had hit far too close to home. “Oh come on, you know everyone loves you. You’ve got so many vases painted with your face on it that even I almost get sick of looking at it.”

He gave her a look and she tapped him on the nose. “Not you, silly. Just the vases. They never capture the real you, anyway.” Her finger trailed down and she poked him right above his heart.


“All right, so the guy made a few jokes at your expense, no big deal right?”

Hercules sighed. “The massive appetite thing is…while not true, at least inoffensive.”

“Not many know you were raised by a satyr who still seems to think that workout diet means greens and little else. It’s a miracle you ever got meat on your bones.” She reached up a hand to rub at his shoulder. The last thing she wanted was for the winter festival that was supposed to be all about the holiday spirit, or spirits as it was for some, ending on such a sour note for them. “Now what else?”

“It’s stupid,” he huffed. “Just old wounds, so to speak.”

“I didn’t know you were so fond of Euripides that it would insult you to been seen as thinking his writing is drivel. Personally, I’m going to have to agree with the play version of you on that one.”

“No, not that,” he replied, a little laughter in his tone. “Though I do wish that one time I fell asleep watching Medea wouldn’t come back to haunt me. I keep swearing he’s going to get back at me for all the negative press that got him.”

“He got third place, and he deserved even worse. “

They smiled at one another, remembering the evening afterwards when they both had a little too much wine and a fair amount of cuddling as they picked apart the play. Wondering if a similar tactic might be in order, Meg grabbed Hercules’s arm and steered him towards the nearest inn.

“Hey, wait a minute, where are we going?”

“Figured we could use a bed before the party at the theatre starts overflowing to the streets,” she answered, fishing a handful of coins out of the pouch around Hercules’s waist and tossing it to the innkeeper. “Don’t look so surprised to see a demigod, buddy. You’re catching flies in your mouth there.”

Steering him down the hallways towards the best room that was open, Meg borrowed a tray from a servant filled with wine and grapes. “I’ll return it in the morning, sans some liquid and food.”

The servant cracked a smile and Meg made a mental note to slip a tip to the boy when she had the chance. She and Herc definitely knew what it was like to grow up less than famous in the world. Speaking of, she had a sinking suspicion that his current woes might be connected to his rough past.

Well, if that was the problem she was more than willing to get to the root of it.

Depositing one husband and one tray full of wine on the bed before joining them both, Meg had already poured one glass before Hercules could find the words to speak again.

“Are you seducing me or cheering me up, I can never quite tell anymore,” he joked, his smile going into that smitten look he’d gotten the first time he’d met her.

“A little of both, if you don’t mind,” she teased back, pecking him a kiss on the cheek. “But first, why don’t you unload your burden Atlas? You’ve got the weight of the world on those broad shoulders of yours.”

His sigh was heavy, but there was an edge of relief to it. She knew him well enough to know he’d almost been waiting for her to ask outright, because he didn’t want to ruin their night out with his troubles. Heroes, always trying to do what’s best even when it’s stupid.

“Just always had a bit of a problem being laughed at, being as it was pretty much my life before I completed my training.”

Meg handed over a glass of wine and lay down beside him, reclining with her head propped up with her elbow. “Considering what I’ve heard of your high school days, it wasn’t pretty.”

“Sometimes I think it would make the mother of all monsters look pretty, but sometimes I wonder if I’m overthinking it. Maybe I’m getting old.”

“Hey now.” She poked his cheek. “You promised you wouldn’t regret giving up immortality, you know.”

His eyes widened. “Oh no, I’d never. Meg…” He leaned down until his forehead was against hers. “I am more than happy to get old as long as you’re with me, okay? Don’t ever worry about that.”

She cracked a smile, leaning into his warmth. “Okay. But only if you stop worrying about what people think of you. So what if some playwright wrote a play that makes you look like some horny, Euripides-hating, mayhem-causing, fashion disaster that eats his weight in food five times a day. I know that’s not who you are, and you know that’s not who you are. Just…I don’t know, pretend they’re talking about someone else that has a similar name. Just some jerk named Heracles. “

Hercules laughed at that. “Heracles, I like that. Let’s just blame all this false stuff on him.”

“Exactly,” Meg said, curling herself further into Hercules’s side. “So no worrying now, okay? You’re still a handsome, charming, way too nice for your own good, guy. “

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he replied with a laugh.

“No problem, Wonder Boy.”

He rolled slightly to the side and set his glass down before tugging Meg’s glass from her hands and doing the same. “And just so you know, despite what Heracles might do, I am not vaguely interested in brothels of women. To be perfectly honest, I’ve got the best lady in the world for a wife and I highly doubt anything else is ever going to even come close.”

Meg smirked, leaning fully into him. “Well, and we both know I’m already more woman than you can handle anyway.”

Hercules blushed. “Hey now, it’s called being a gentleman.”

“It’s called,” she retorted, pausing to give him a hard kiss on the lips, “being adorable, you big lug.”

“You’re amazing, you know that, right Meg?”

“I guess I must be to have a wonderful guy like you care about me, huh?”

They both smiled at one another, eyes crinkling at the corners with wrinkles that wouldn’t be there for years and years. Whispered compliments and kisses were exchanged before they both settled back down to rest.

“So that jerk Heracles aside, how’d you like the plays tonight?”

Hercules let his fingers absently run through her hair as he chuckled. “Better than the tragedies. I think everyone can use a little laughter now and then, even if it is at that Heracles guy’s expense.”

Megara smiled, reaching down to twine her fingers together with Hercules’s. “I couldn’t agree more, Herc. I couldn’t agree more.”
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January 2013


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