let the rock roll

by spock

Summary:

"Are they...alright?" Jason asks this under his breath, wondering if perhaps it was a mistake to come.

"Oh." Hercules snorts, downing Pythagoras’s cup. "They're always like this," he says. "It's how they flirt. Disgusting really."

Jason feels his entire world tilt on its axis, brain short-circuiting. "Do you mean to say," he sounds out each word, "that they're," he struggles, grasping for a term, anything beyond the one he knows that he must use, "exes?"

Notes:

• For MildredMost.

Jason hasn’t anyone to blame but himself.

He’d been the one to ask Hercules to give him a tour of the surrounding area, a suggestion that served two ends: it had been ages since Pythagoras last worked on his calculations, and the two of them out of the house would surely serve as a gift to their mutual friend in that regard; and, selfishly, Jason had been hoping a brief escape from the seemingly unending drama of the city, if only for the afternoon. He should have known better, in retrospect.

But, well — with retrospect taken into account, Jason would have successfully avoided a great many things.

"He's an old man!" Jason says, for what feels to be the hundredth time.

"An old man cursed by the gods!" Hercules counters. "Literal gods. Some people, Jason, deserve to lay in the bed they've made for themselves."

Pythagoras is ignoring them, scribbling away, still sitting at his workbench. Jason sends him a wounded look, abandoned to convince Hercules by himself. "And what of all the beds that you've been rescued from, Hercules? Should we have left you to your rightful fate!?"

Hercules sniffs, but doesn't say anything further on that particular matter. "Say we did help him," he begins, hurrying to finish when he sees the triumphant look on Jason's face, "— and I'm not saying we absolutely will — but if we did, just how are we meant to save a man from an unending fate without managing to get tasked with it ourselves? Riddle me that."

It's a fair question. Jason frowns, thinking. "Pythagoras," he calls. "Your genius would be appreciated."

"Don't think you can flatter me into joining in on your schemes." Pythagoras closes his journal and wanders towards the kitchen. It is an empty act meant to escape the conversation; they’re all aware that they haven't any food. "Besides, it sounds like this particular problem requires an engineer, and I'm hardly an inventor."

Hercules snaps his fingers, regaining Jason's attention. "Now there's an idea!"

Jason turns back to Pythagoras, hoping to share a look of confusion, only to find his friend's face gone white. "Absolutely not."

"What?" Jason looks between the two of them, confused. "Who?" His temper flares when he is met with silence. "Come now, it's not like time is on our side!"

"There's an inventor —" Hercules begins, only to be cut off by Pythagoras.

"He's an artist —"

"An artist-inventor," Hercules allows. "Very, very good. And, well, come to think of it, he's a bit like you, Jason. Not from the area."

Well, that's interesting. "Really?" Jason finds himself becoming excited at the prospect. "What's his name?"

—

Jason can't get his mind around it. He tries to keep from asking again, but a man can only be expected to hold so much restraint. "You know Leonardo da Vinci?"

Hercules serves him an annoyed look, hefting his bag further up his back. "Well, he and I weren't that close," he admits. "Pythagoras, on the other hand..."

"I still can't believe you've heard of him," Pythagoras's reply comes in the form of a rather petulant mutter from Jason's other side.

When it becomes apparent that Pythagoras has no interest in sharing anything more, Hercules continues, "He just showed up one day, looking a bit lost. It was before Pythagoras and I became such good friends, you see, but Pythagoras helped him settle in, assisted in the opening of his shop, things like that."

Jason turns to look at Pythagoras expectantly. Pythagoras keeps his eyes trained to the path at their feet. There aren't as many obstacles on this side of the city, the streets nearly empty as they venture farther from the centre-proper.

"Ah," Hercules calls, reclaiming Jason's attention. "That's the one."

The three of them stand outside the door after they’ve reached it. Both Hercules and Jason look to Pythagoras, who levels them with a withering frown. "Suppose I'd better knock, then."

There's a commotion inside before a voice calls for them to wait. A man answers the door a moment or so later. He has a large beard that takes over the majority of his face, and is years younger than the image Jason has in his mind.

Despite that, there is no question that the man is Leonardo Da Vinci. "Oh wow," Jason breathes.

Leonardo blinks at him, confusion overtaking his face when he sees Hercules. His eyes drift to Pythagoras and the sight of him changes Leonardo's entire disposition, his expression animating pleasantly, teeth revealed beneath his beard as he smiles. "Pythagoras!" he greets warmly.

"Hello, Leonardo." Pythagoras's reply is sullen. Leonardo hesitates for a moment, visibly battling with himself, before he steps out of the doorway and takes Pythagoras into his arms, giving him a warm hug. "We've come to commission you," Pythagoras says, voice muffled where his face is pressed into Leonardo’s shoulder. "And we haven't any money to pay."

"I wouldn't charge you," Leonardo answers, fond. He pulls back, hands on Pythagoras's shoulders. "Come inside."

They settle around a table that Leonardo has in the middle of his very full studio. Leonardo fusses about the space, fixing them all with cups of wine. "It's so good to see you," he says, clearly speaking to Pythagoras, until it seems to occur to him that he's being rude. "And you as well, Hercules. And —," he frowns at Jason, sitting on the bench Pythagoras has claimed, their elbows brushing when Leonardo copies Pythagoras in resting his hands atop the table. “Forgive me, but do I know you?"

Jason shakes his head, extending a hand. "No, I'm new," he says. "Jason. I'm a huge fan."

Leonardo shakes his hand, giving him a confused smile. "I'm sorry?"

There isn't an easy way to do this, especially if Leonardo's been keeping his origins as much a secret as Jason's done. "From back home," Jason says, putting particular emphasis on the word. "I hadn't heard that you'd moved to Atlantis. I was shocked when Hercules first mentioned you."

"Fascinating." Leonardo seems to truly look at him for the first time. Jason is surprised to find that his eyes are so very expressive, the gears of his mind practically turning within them.

"We need you to help us with a rescue," Pythagoras cuts in, fingertip tracing the mouth of his cup. "We require a device that will repeat a motion without anyone there to oversee it. Indefinitely, ideally, but at least until anyone who might get caught is long gone."

"Is that so?" Leonardo turns from Jason, the intensity of his gaze refocused on Pythagoras, discovery replaced with well-worn familiarity. "And you could not come up with something on your own?"

Pythagoras bristles. "Are you saying that you won't help?"

"I most certainly did not say that."

It occurs to Jason that Leonardo is teasing Pythagoras.

It's such a strange thing to witness, two of the greatest minds of their respective civilizations, antagonizing one another. Their conversation carries without the need of input from Jason or Hercules, the two of them bickering. Hercules doesn't seem surprised. Nor bothered, as he finishes his cup of wine and steals Pythagoras's as well, untouched and unnoticed.

"Are they...alright?" Jason asks this under his breath, wondering if perhaps it was a mistake to come.

"Oh." Hercules snorts, downing Pythagoras’s cup. "They're always like this," he says. "It's how they flirt. Disgusting really."

Jason feels his entire world tilt on its axis, brain short-circuiting. "Do you mean to say," he sounds out each word, "that they're," he struggles, grasping for a term, anything beyond the one he knows that he must use, "exes?"

Hercules casts him a look that makes no effort in hiding that he thinks Jason is anything less than an exceptional idiot.

—

Jason feels useless. In all their previous exploits there has always been something for him to do, a part that he must play, but there is no such purpose to be found this day. Pythagoras and Leonardo fashion the concept for a machine as the hours carry on, huddled together over diagrams, debating calculations and layouts so quickly that Jason is left with a headache just from the bits he can overhear.

Hercules seems to have far less of a crisis. He has no shame in making himself scarce, coming in and out of the workshop, not bothering to speak to them whenever he does, his main interest in making use of Leonardo’s pantry.

The sun sets eventually, stealing the light from the open space. It breaks the spell over Leonardo, his body uncurling from the pensive hunch it’s been moulded into as he and Pythagoras obsess over their plans. He looks to the window, surprised. “I think this’ll take another day to finish,” he says, scratching at his chin. “You’re all welcome to spend the night.”

Pythagoras hardly seems pleased, but he doesn’t decline outright. Hercules must not have been far, because he steps inside the door and exclaims, “Wonderful!" Clapping his hands together, looking over his shoulder. "Now, Leo, is that bathhouse a few streets over the one that all the rich lords say was gifted to the city by Poseidon himself?”

For all that Hercules claims not to have known Leonardo well in their earlier acquaintance, Jason is certain that Leonardo, at least, managed a much better read of his friend. He smiles, and shares a look with Pythagoras that Jason cannot read. “It is indeed,” Leonardo says. “I would be happy to lend you the fee, if you were hoping to visit it.”

Again, without any semblance of shame, Hercules agrees. Worse, he ropes Jason in as well, leaving him with a debt he will undoubtedly have no chance to repay.

—

The bathhouse has Jason feeling cleaner than he has in months, perhaps than even before he even arrived in Atlantis, and indescribably tired. Hercules, always one to defy expectation, somehow seems revitalized, the scorching waters and blissfully aggressive rub-down from the attendants emboldening him with a second wind for the evening. He abandons Jason to a solitary return journey to Leonardo’s studio, pink-cheeked and eager to explore the tavern culture in so affluent an area.

Jason only just manages not to get lost, and yawns no less than thirty times in the ten or so minutes it takes to return to Leonardo’s. The workshop is dark when he returns, and Jason wonders if the two of them turned in for bed already. The door is unlocked when he tries it; he lets out a sigh of relief that at least he was not forgotten.

It is tricky to navigate Leonardo's studio in the dark. Jason feels himself waking up a bit as he takes short, careful steps back towards what is Leonardo’s living space, mindful of the unfinished paintings and sculptures and tinkered inventions cluttering the room.

He realizes very quickly that Leonardo and Pythagoras have not actually turned in. There’s a candle burning in Leonardo's bedroom and it illuminates their kissing forms in harsh relief, the shadow of their passion cast onto the wall behind them, larger than life even to Jason looking at them from beyond the open door. Neither of them has their shirts on, and Jason finds himself a bit transfixed with how much larger than Pythagoras Leonardo is. How strong his chest is, the hair spread across it looking soft.

Pythagoras keens, spine bending, his chest arching up to Leonardo’s.

“Oh my god,” he breathes.

Two pairs of very intelligent eyes dart to him, Leonardo and Pythagoras parting from their kissing for the first time since Jason stumbled upon them. Pythagoras looks embarrassed, an arm coming up to cross over his chest, his other hand making an effort to pat down the absolute mess Leonardo’s hands have made of his hair as he scrambles to sit up on the mattress. Leonardo, in contrast, looks genuinely terrified, eyes wide and froze in place, standing on his knees.

It makes Jason feel worse, because of course Leonardo would have more of a hang-up than Pythagoras at having been caught out, especially by someone who stands as his contemporary, with all the shared culture that comes along with such a thing. Jason brings his hands up to cover his eyes, turning around so that his back is to them. “I’m sorry!” he calls, with the utmost sincerity. “I’m an idiot.”

There’s the sound of clothes rustling. “I fear we’ve been caught out,” Leonardo says. Jason can’t hear the terror that he had seen on Leonardo’s face, so hopefully, it’s passed.

“Yes, I also have ears and eyes, Leonardo,” sarcasm drips from Pythagoras’s voice. In a few moments he’s at Jason’s side, walking past him, clothes rumpled but firmly back in place as he heads towards the little washroom to the side of the workshop. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”

It takes all of Jason’s courage to turn around. It ends up being for nothing — Leonardo’s expression has returned to its congenial default, polite smile on his lips. “I suppose this gives us a chance to speak,” he says, patting the bed at his side.

Jason wanders over in a daze, the walk between the hallway and Leonardo's bed feeling impossibly long. He’d actually gotten used to Atlantis, to the insane things that happen to him with alarming frequency, the fact that he’s here at all. The surrealness hits him for the first time in a while, sitting next to Leonardo da Vinci in this city he once imagined to be an ancient fiction, on a bed where one of humanity’s greatest contributors was about to have his way with his dearest friend Pythagoras, a legend in his own right.

Madness.

“What year are you from?” Leonardo asks. “Or, I suppose I shouldn’t ask you that, or for any details, really,” he says, rambling to himself. “The expression you made when you caught sight of me was identical to what I imagine my own had been when Pythagoras first introduced himself to me. That you know of me means that it must have been well after my time. Are you aware of how I die?” Jason nods, a thousand of his own questions running through his spinning mind. “And thus I must return, somehow. That’s all I need to know.”

Jason blinks, surprised. “Aren’t you worried at all?”

Leonardo shrugs. “In truth, this has been a nice respite.” His smile bends, becoming mischievous, like he’s making fun of himself. “There’s a commission waiting back for me in Florence and I’m quite relieved to have a legitimate excuse to put it off.” His posture changes, eyes narrowing conspiratorially as he tilts his head, focusing on Jason. “I do, however, wonder what it is about Pythagoras that draws men such as us to him,” Leonardo says.

Jason’s laugh sounds a bit hysterical, wondering how he fell into this situation, sitting next to Leonardo on his bed, his passion only just recently interrupted. “I’m not — well, I’m not entirely—”

“I meant time travellers,” Leonardo says, cutting him off before he can make more of a fool of himself, stuttering over his tongue as he is. “Although that is good to know.”

It would be wonderful if another wormhole opened right here and now, and sucked Jason away from this conversation.

Pythagoras returns, fresh faced and in a shirt that is much too big for his frame, the hem reaching his knees and most certainly belonging to Leonardo. Hercules is with him, barely standing under his own means, leaning heavily on Pythagoras.

Leonardo doesn’t seem surprised. “I have only the one spare room.”

There isn’t anything of particular note in his tone, at least not to Jason's ears, but Pythagoras cuts him off anyway. “All three of us are used to sharing, thank you.”

—

Hercules is so far gone that he doesn’t complain about the blanket they set him up with on the hard stone floor, happily snoring away as Jason and Pythagoras are forced to cuddle up with one another in the too-narrow spare bed, arms folded over their bellies.

“So,” Jason offers.

“What’s his reputation like?” Pythagoras asks. “Back where you’re from?"

Despite what might be said concerning him, Jason actually can read the mood. “He’s all right,” he hedges. “I think your work is much more impressive, really.” Pythagoras’s boney limbs dig into Jason’s side as he turns, raising to look at him with pure disbelief stark across his features. “What!” Jason shouts. “I mean it!”

—

Leonardo invents the conveyor belt. Jason sits shoulder-to-shoulder with Hercules as Pythagoras and Leonardo explain it to them, giddy in their ingenuity, and feels guilty that he didn’t suggest the idea himself.

Well, guilty and stupid, but he can hardly think to compare himself with the creativity of either of them, even with thousands of years of human development behind him.

“Will you need my assistance in getting it built?” Leonardo asks, once they're done.

“No,” Pythagoras says, gathering the plans in his arms. “I’m quite certain we can figure it out ourselves, thank you,” there is a pause. “Leo.”

The once chilled note in Pythagoras's tone has warmed, enmity from the day prior having thawed a bit. Jason doesn’t let himself think beyond how nice it is to see them working together, especially since he likely has an idea at the source of their regained fondness; he’d awoken in the middle of the night to Pythagoras sneaking out of their shared bed, and all evidence points to him not having returned after the departure.

Leonardo blinks. “You aren’t going to commission a team of builders?”

“A wonderful idea!” Hercules interjects, the first thing he’s said since he’d woken up, hungover and bodily dragged into the workshop to listen to the joint lecture. “I take it you’ve been finding well-paying work easily, Leonardo, and have many connections for this sort of project!”

Pythagoras gives him a look, taking the wind from Hercules’s sails. “We couldn’t possibly trouble you for any more money,” he says firmly, and Hercules slumps in defeat at the clear resolution there, no room for cajoling or debate. “You and I have done our duty in the planning, and now Hercules and Jason will put their skills to use.”

“Is he insinuating that all we’re good for is free labour?” Jason asks, trying to rebuild Hercules's mood, who only continues in his pouting.

“It seemed more than an insinuation,” Leonardo answers, smiling. “Although I am sure you both will rise to the task all the same.”

Despite whatever it is that happened over the course of the night, Pythagoras doesn’t seem of a mind to dally. They’re at the door in no time, saying their goodbyes. Leonardo manages another lingering hug for his trouble, gathering Pythagoras into him. He shakes hands with Hercules, giving a warm smile. Jason is thrown, if not pleased, when he is given a hug at his turn for a goodbye.

He clings a bit to Leonardo, unable to believe that this is his life, and yet allows himself to find solace in the familiarity of the man, the man so much closer to Jason’s world than anyone else here.

They get about five minutes into their return journey before Pythagoras stops dead, groaning. “I can’t believe I forgot!” he says, rubbing at his temples.

“What?” Jason asks.

“Oh just —” Pythagoras trails off, muttering something that Jason can’t quite make out or understand, technical terms flying over his head, struggling to see how they could possibly relate. He hands the plans to Jason, shoving them at his chest. “Do me a favour and see if Milo will donate the materials. He owes Hercules for that time in Croton.”

“He certainly does!” Hercules adds.

“I’ll be back before the day has drifted too far into the afternoon,” Pythagoras promises, and then he is off, jogging in the direction of Leonardo’s workshop, Jason and Hercules starring after him as he goes.

Hercules sighs. “Here we go.” Jason blinks. “Completely transparent! Oh I forgot the thingy for the lever pulley,” he repeats, mocking Pythagoras’s voice, although that was not at all what Pythagoras had said. He meets Jason’s eyes, rolling his own. “Lever pulley indeed!”

“What?!”

Hercules visibly gives up on him. “Go about your day, son,” he says, gentle like he’s speaking to a child. An especially slow, challenged child. “Pythagoras will come back to us eventually, don’t you worry. He can only stomach Leonardo for so long before he misses being the most clever bastard in the room again."

“But what about —”

Hercules waves him off. “Let Pythagoras have his fun.” His tone is firm, decided. “Sisyphus will keep.”

Notes:

leonardo really did invent a proto-conveyer belt, apparently, because of course he did.