Part 1
Title: Counting Cupid
Author: Goddess Blue
Email: goddess.blue@gmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Xena: Warrior Princess, Hercules the Legendary Journeys
Pairings: Cupid/Strife eventually. Maybe some Ares/Joxer, if I can fit it in.
Disclaimer: Xena: Warrior Princess, Hercules the Legendary Journeys,
characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Universal
Television Distribution Holdings LLC. They are used here for
entertainment purposes only.
Warning: None for this part ^.^
Status: Incomplete. Part 1/?.
Archive: Yes to AJCS. Anyone else, please ask.
Website: http://www.geocities.com/nonexistent_virtually,
http://www.livejournal.com/users/goddess_blue,
http://www.fanfiction.net/~goddessblue
Notes: I know I should be working on something else, but I craved
something on the fluffier side, and I'd already started this one a
while back. Beware a clueless Strife, and an even more clueless Cupid.
Natch.
Summary: Strife has never been in love his whole life, unless you count Cupid.
- - -
Strife had never been in love his whole life, unless you counted
Cupid, but he didn't. It was normal to love Cupid, because everybody
did. It was normal to look upon that golden beauty and feel twinges in
his gut and flutters in his heart and aching behind his eyes.
Cupid /was/ love.
So it didn't surprise Strife to feel those things when he saw Cupid,
which wasn't very often anyway. It didn't surprise Strife to feel like
blushing when Cupid met his eyes. It didn't surprise Strife to feel
like tugging his ear and digging his toes into the ground when Cupid's
melodically rough voice washed over him. He'd seen tons of mortals do
it when Cupid merely walked or flew by, even when he was invisible. He
worked very hard to resist the urge to act like an idiot.
He liked that feeling, really reveled in it. War Gods, he knew, were
incapable of love on their own. He'd never really feel love like he
felt when Cupid was around because he just wasn't built for it. So,
even knowing it wasn't real or even special, Strife wallowed in the
feeling whenever he could.
Strife went out of his way to talk to his cousin in his early years.
He'd drop by and play tricks on the blonde, and stick around just to
watch the fallout. He loved the way Cupid's face got completely
mottled red, and froze like that... just for a second.
He loved the way that second stretched tightly before Cupid's whole
body would relax and a chagrined smile would pass his face. Cupid
would pick his pants back up or wipe his face clean or vanish all the
frogs, and then collapse into the nearest seat and laugh at himself.
Strife just loved that.
Then Cupid would wind down on the laughter and call out for him.
Somehow, Cupid always knew it was him when he'd played a trick, but
then there weren't many people who'd prank the God of Love.
Strife would reveal himself and Cupid would straighten his face and
ask him how he'd done whatever it was he'd done that day and even look
interested while he did it. Strife would tell him and then before
Strife would know it they'd be sitting on some of Cupid's plushy light
blue pillows telling each other about their day and their jobs.
Sometimes, if Strife talked long enough, Cupid's eyes would begin to
glass over and droop. He'd yawn and stretch and his voice would get
rough with sleep and Strife would tell him good night and go home like
a good boy.
Once, when Strife hadn't noticed that Cupid was getting sleepy, he'd
continued right on talking until he'd looked over to gauge his
cousin's reaction to a particularly gory battle story and had seen the
blonde slumped over, head resting on the wall behind him.
Strife had dwindled to a stop and had watched Cupid sleep, fascinated.
The snowy wings had fluttered, fidgeting like any other limbs did when
the body began to wind it's way to sleep. They'd folded into Cupid,
just slightly, as if shielding him from the rest of the world. Cupid
had shifted and his hands had fallen to his side. His skin had
stretched gloriously over his muscles. Strife's pulse had jumped.
And then he'd panicked and flashed himself home and taken a long, cold
swim in his Uncle's garden pond.
That had been a week ago, and now Strife faced forward with the host
of Olympus as Hera joined Cupid and his chosen bride, a mortal girl by
the name of Psyche, in wedlock.
His heart twisted and his eyes burned and he stopped breathing, even
though ten minutes before he'd been reasonably certain he could handle
this.
The seconds ticked by, stretching tightly. Strife's eyes got a little
blurry, so he never noticed Aphrodite's head whip around to scan the
crowd, her eyes narrowed in concern.
And then it was over and Psyche and Cupid were kissing and everyone
was cheering, even him, and his heart had relaxed. Now it just ached
like a bruise that would shoot lancing pain through his body if he got
bored enough to poke it.
But it was okay because Cupid was happy, and damn if that didn't make
it all marginally better. Bearable.
It was okay, because everyone would be brokenhearted that Cupid was
married, because everyone loved Cupid.
So his broken heart didn't really count.
---
"It was just so... depressing! Heph, stop that."
The God of the Forge sat back from nuzzling his wife's neck and
switched to consoling mode, "I'm sorry, 'Dite. Why don't you tell me
about it?"
"Really?" She looked down at him, wide-eyed. The wonderful thing about
Hephaestus was that he listened and really cared about her problems.
And her feelings. And said all the right things and just generally
humored her. It was comforting to know that no matter how shallow she
often got, he loved her anyway.
He nodded and she gave him a bright smile and long, deep kiss.
He whimpered when she broke it off and began to talk. "I mean, there I
was watching the happiest moment of Cupid's whole entire life, ready
to cry like a baby and be all supportive Mom and stuff, and bam!"
He started when she clapped her hands together right next to his ear.
"Exactly! Just like that. I mean... it's never a pleasant feeling, but
it's not usually such a surprise and so out of place. I guess it
happens at a lot of weddings, but I just didn't expect it at
Cupid's!"
Hephaestus dragged his eyes away from her cleavage and the way it
moved enticingly when she got excited and tilted his head in question.
"What happened?"
"Someone's heart broke," she sniffed, and cuddled close to him. "It
sucked big time."
He returned her cuddle and dropped a kiss on her shoulder, shifting
them so that he could hold her in his arms. "Who was it?"
"I don't know, which is so not cool. Everyone was clapping and
cheering and happy for Cupid. No one looked upset or anything. Too
much loving emotion in the way. I couldn't tell."
There was a moment of silence, during which Hephaestus enjoyed her
softness and waited for her to start up again.
"I just don't think I'll be able to get any sleep tonight."
Hephaestus held back a smug grin, but his hopes were soon dashed when
Aphrodite waved a hand and appeared fully dressed at the foot of their
bed.
"Come on! I gotta find out who it was, or I won't get any sleep and my
eyes will be all poofy and I'll feel ugly and you won't get any for
weeks."
Within moments Hephaestus was fully dressed and wrapping her in his
arms. "Shall we, dear?"
She smiled blindingly up at him, "I love you."
---
They flashed into the Halls of War, Heph watching her 'concentrating
face' with amusement. After a moment, she peeked one eye open and then
opened both wide, surprised.
"The Halls of War? That's odd..."
"Look, a Love Goddess," came a dry voice from behind them, "how strange."
Aphrodite wrenched herself from her husband's arms and whirled around
to level a glare at Ares, "I am not strange."
"Fine," he bantered back, seated at the far end of a long oaken table,
lieutenants on either side, "then I'm not odd." Eris scowled at
Aphrodite, but Strife was smiling at her, bemused. Phobos and Deimos
were in attendance as well, which must have meant that something heavy
in the House of War was going on, and they had interrupted it.
"Oh, pish." She waltzed the length of the room and stopped beside him,
seating herself on the edge of the table, leaning down to show off her
cleavage, "I wasn't talking about you, Ares."
He resisted the urge to stare, well aware of Hephaestus' presence and
very happy with his anatomy in it's present arrangement. "What can I
do for you, 'Dite?"
"Nothing," she sweetly returned. "You look busy, just keep doing what
you were doing, and I'll be quiet."
Ares raised his eyebrows at her and waited.
"Oh, all right. I just... wanted to drop by and say hello to
everybody. Hello, everybody."
She'd sat next to Ares just long enough to know that he wasn't
heartbroken, and as Eris was on her other side, she knew that his twin
wasn't heartbroken either.
"Hey, Dite." Strife grinned at her, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Er..."
Eris gave her son a disgusted look, and Ares sighed and leaned back in
his chair. "What do you /want/, Aphrodite."
Oh, he'd used her full name. Aphrodite stood and smiled innocently at
him, moving around the back of his chair towards that niggling feeling
in the back of her head. In moments, she was standing right behind
Strife, hands on his shoulders, feeling his heartache.
"Oh," she sighed, and answered Ares. "I wasn't expecting to find you
so busy. I need you for a moment."
Ares opened his mouth to argue, but she gave him an imploring look,
and he snapped it shut and sighed. "All right, five minutes. The
office."
And with that he flashed out. She pulled Strife's head back by his
hair and gave him a goodbye wink before flashing after him, Hephaestus
in her wake.
There was a moment of silence, broken by Phobos, "That was weird."
---
She picked up a dagger and played with it while Ares stood impatiently
in her way, trying to come up with something.
He grabbed it from her. "Those things are sharp. Don't play with them, please."
She grabbed it back from him and leveled a glare. "I'm a Goddess. I'll survive."
"But you'll cry, and then Hephaestus will beat me up."
Aphrodite smiled blindingly over at her husband, who's expression
hadn't changed, "Yeah. Anyway, I need to borrow Strife."
Ares grabbed the knife back, opening his mouth to retort that
Hephaestus couldn't possibly take him, but all that came out was:
"What?"
"I need to borrow Strife." When Ares only continued to stare at her,
she rolled her eyes and then batted her lashes at him, "please?"
Ares huffed, "No. Go home."
"Aren't you even going to ask /why/?"
"No. I have a big war coming up, and in case you failed to notice,
he's my second. I need him."
"Phooey. All he ever does is wreak havoc and wage war at your side. He
hasn't seen nearly enough of the world yet. He's still so young. Don't
you think he's stifled here?"
"/No./"
"Come on! I'll... let you have Cupid. He can help with your war thingy."
Ares scowled, "It's not a war 'thingy'. It's a very important
territorial skirmish... would you put that dagger down?"
Aphrodite set it down and gave Ares her best, pleading look.
Ares looked up at his ceiling.
Aphrodite mewed in disappointment.
Hephaestus cracked his knuckles.
"I'm not afraid of either of you."
"Pleeeeeeeaaasee?"
"Fine! Fine. But... you have to leave me alone for... one hundred
years for this."
Aphrodite gaped at him, "leave you /alone/. What's that supposed to mean?"
"No more trying to fix me up with 'some nice goddess, because you look
lonely Arry.' No more, 'my, that priestess of yours is very buxom--'"
"I've never in my life said 'buxom'."
"One hundred years, free from being fixed up."
"Fine! I don't know anyone who'd put up with you anyway!"
"Good! I have work to do, and I could do without some simpering woman
crawling after me, getting in my way..."
He ranted on in that vein for another minute until he finally caught a
look at Aphrodite's face and quickly shut up with a cough. "So.
Strife. Why?"
"You've already agreed. I don't have to tell you anything, and just
count yourself /lucky/ I already agreed, or you'd be paying for that
simpering, crawling /woman/ remark."
With that, Aphrodite flashed from his office, and angry burst of
flower petals following her.
Ares glared at Hephaestus, who shrugged and followed his wife.
- - -
tbc