AresJoxerCupidStrife - Caroline

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Title: Emily Dickenson's Horses Chapter One
Author/pseudonym: Caroline
Fandom: X:WP
Pairing: C/S (more to follow when I decide who they are, I'm sure)
Rating: NC17
Status: new
Archive: yes to list archives
E-mail address for feedback: caroline_crane@hotmail.com
Series/Sequel: this will be ongoing, but I don't have any plans for a
sequel. I've learned never to say never, though.
Other websites: http://desiderium.slashcity.net/

Notes: Now that my other canon-based series is over I've given myself
permission to unveil my shiny new C/S canon-based WIP. It's the requisite
'Strife cheats Death' fic. All apologies to anyone who may have written
this take on Strife's afterlife before me. I haven't read anything like
this yet, but it's entirely possible it's out there and I've missed it. If
that's the case, it was unintentional.

Summary: Cupid's marriage is over, and the god of Love turns to his dead
cousin for help in straightening out his personal life.

Warnings: none as of yet

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cupid let out a weary sigh and glanced out over the crowd of petitioners
again. The line of mortals bearing offerings seemed to go on forever, one
hopeful face after another looking for a chance at love. Sure, it was nice
to be appreciated for all the work he did, but sometimes he missed the days
when everybody still bothered his mother with their relationship problems.

The truth was that Cupid just wasn't in the mood to listen to a bunch of
mortals whine about their unrequited feelings for this girl or that guy, and
he hadn't been in the mood for a long time. Psyche had left awhile back,
but her abrupt return to her old life back in Greece was more a result of
his brooding rather than the cause. Rejection never felt great, but the
fact was that even when Psyche was still around there was something missing
in his life.

Sure, he had Bliss now, and he loved his son. But being a father just
wasn't enough to make him happy, and he spent a lot of time wondering if
that made him completely selfish. He knew it should be enough, but the fact
of the matter was that he spent almost all his time making love connections,
and he had nobody to go home to at night.

*It's your own fault,* he reminded himself, scowling at the little voice in
the back of his head that sounded way too much like his cousin Strife. The
thought of Strife just depressed him for a whole new set of reasons, and he
let out another sigh and beckoned his high priest over. When the old man
stepped up to the throne Cupid stood up and whispered orders in the mortal's
ear, then took one last look at the crowd and disappeared.

He could hear the echoes of surprised protests and fervent prayers that he
come back and listen to the rest of the petitions, but he just couldn't
bring himself to do it. What he really needed was someone to talk to about
the way he'd been feeling lately, but the only person that would understand
was banished to Tartarus for all eternity. And Cupid hated going down
there, more than he hated death and even more than he hated his father's
taste in interior design. But it was the only way he was going to feel even
a little better, so he steeled himself for the initial burst of ickiness and
flashed down to the underworld.

As soon as he set foot in his Uncle Hades' realm he felt it; the creeping,
almost tangible *something* in the air that settled over his perfect golden
skin and made him feel like it might crawl off and abandon him. He wasn't
sure what it was about dead people that gave him the creeps, he knew a lot
of them and he was related to most of the ones Strife hung out with. Still,
he couldn't help feeling just a little weirded out every time he visited his
cousin, and he knew Strife could tell he wasn't comfortable down there.

Cupid hated making Strife feel like he was different now that he was dead.
The truth was that Cupid didn't think of Strife as different at all, it was
all the other people down in Tartarus he couldn't quite get used to. He was
trying, though, mainly because the time he spent with Strife was the only
time lately that he could forget why he was so unhappy. He sent out a
mental call and felt his cousin's consciousness tug back, following the
sensation until he found Strife waiting for him outside Hades' place.

That was another thing about Strife - he knew how uncomfortable Cupid was
hanging around with the rest of the dead, so he always dropped whatever he
was doing and went straight to Hades' place to wait for Cupid. "Cupe,
whatcha doin' down here in the middle a the day?" Strife asked, grinning as
he grabbed Cupid's arm and steered him around something Cupid didn't want to
recognize.

"I couldn't take any more petitions," Cupid answered, following Strife into
Hades' house and stifling a sigh of relief when he heard the massive wooden
doors swing shut behind them. "One more 'please, Cupid, make him love me'
and I would've totally lost it. I had to get out of there for awhile."

Strife snorted derisively and led the way into the massive stone hall that
would have been Hades' sitting room if he ever had any company. Cupid knew
that Persephone spent part of the year down there out of obligation, but she
didn't like it enough to entertain and the only other god hanging around was
Morpheus. Since he was asleep most of the time Hades didn't get a lot of
company, at least not before Strife got himself killed. Now he and Cupid
used the room whenever Cupid got the chance to come down and visit his
cousin, but it wasn't nearly as often as he would have liked.

"So what's up, Cupe? How ya doin' with Bliss now that yer a single dad?"

Cupid waited for the pang of loss that he always expected to come along with
the mention of Psyche's leaving, but it never came. Finally he gave up and
shook his head, sinking into one of the armchairs he conjured and waving a
hand absently in the direction of the stone fireplace. "It's always so cold
down here."

"Funny, most people think it's kinda hot," Strife said as he flopped down in
the chair opposite Cupid. "Ya sure yer okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Cupid answered, turning to stare at the fire. "I don't
know, Strife. I mean I know I shouldn't complain, I've got Bliss and Mom
and Dad and all, but it's like there's something missing, you know?"

"Well yer wife just left ya, Cupe. I'm not an expert or anythin', but
doesn't it take awhile ta get over that kinda thing?"

"I wish that was it, believe me." He let out a heavy sigh and turned his
head long enough to cast a baleful look at his cousin. "I know it sounds
bad, but I don't really miss her. I mean I like Psyche and all, she's cool
and she's a good mom to Bliss. I thought I loved her when I married her,
but towards the end it just felt all wrong. I tried to ignore it, but
eventually she noticed and split. I can't even blame her, because it's not
like I tried to keep her around."

"So yer beatin' yerself up 'cause ya fell outta love? It happens all the
time, Cupe. Yer the love god, you should know how it works."

"That's my whole point. I'm Love, I'm supposed to be in the perfect
relationship with the most beautiful woman in all of Greece. I'm supposed
to be in love, the kind that lasts forever. So what's wrong with me?"

"Whoa," Strife said, his eyebrows raised as he glanced over at Cupid again.
"That's a lotta pressure ta work under, doncha think? Nobody said ya gotta
be perfect just 'cause yer Love, Cupe. That's like sayin' I shoulda been
playin' tricks on people all the time just 'cause I was Mischief. Or like
Unc should always be in the middle a some bloodbath just 'cause he's War."

"Dad is always in the middle of some bloodbath," Cupid shot back, but the
sound of Strife's laugh was infectious and he couldn't stop the smile that
tugged at the corners of his mouth. "But Mom does say it's just because he
hasn't found anybody to distract him from his work."

"See? That's my point right there. Yer not yer job, Cupe. That's just
what ya do, not who ya are. I bet yer mom would agree with me."

Cupid shook his head ruefully, casting a quick, curious glance at his dark
cousin. He wasn't sure how Strife managed to do it, but somehow he always
said exactly what Cupid needed to hear. It made Cupid feel a little guilty
for dumping all his problems on Strife, especially now that his cousin was
banished to Tartarus. He knew Strife wasn't exactly thrilled to be dead,
but he found a way to cope and still managed to have a good attitude. Cupid
was pretty sure if it was him stuck down here he'd be curled up in a corner
somewhere crying his eyes out.

"How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Say the right thing. I swear, Strife, you should've been the God of Good
Advice or something. At least you always have the answers I need. How
come?"

For a second Strife's eyes clouded and he looked down at the floor, but
before Cupid had time to worry that he'd somehow insulted his cousin Strife
looked up and grinned. "Come on, Cupe, I've known ya my whole life. Yer
too easy."

"Did you just call me easy?"

Strife's features twisted into a familiar smirk, and Cupid's heart skipped a
beat in anticipation of whatever his cousin was about to say. "It's not
that hard ta get the dead ta talk, ya know. An' some a yer followers have
some stories ta tell 'bout ya."

"Who?" Cupid snapped, his eyes wide as he scanned his memory for all the
mortals that might know something incriminating about him. Not that there
was really anything incriminating to know - it was all in the name of his
job, after all - but he could think of a few things that he'd rather Strife
didn't know about. He wasn't sure why it bothered him that Strife knew some
of that stuff about him, but he didn't know anything about Strife's personal
life so it didn't really seem fair. In fact, as far as he knew Strife
didn't *have* a personal life; not when he was alive, anyway. Most of the
other gods seemed to think he was crazy, and there weren't a lot of adult
mortals that prayed to Mischief. He seemed to be pretty popular in Hades'
realm, though.

Strife was shaking his head, laughing that maniacal laugh that was the main
reason most of the other gods gave him a wide berth. "Geez, Cupe, ya really
are too easy."

When he realized Strife was still teasing him Cupid rolled his eyes,
affecting his best pout and slouching a little lower in his chair. "Funny,"
he muttered, sticking his lip out a little further so he wouldn't be tempted
to laugh. The truth was that it was pretty funny, but he wasn't about to
admit that to Strife. He felt a lot better, though, and as he stared into
the fire he found himself wondering how he could pay his cousin back for
being there whenever Cupid needed him. There had to be something he could
do for Strife, he just had to figure out what it was.

~

Cupid's good mood lasted a few days, but after listening to more mortals
moaning over their love lives and their broken hearts he fell right back
into the same depression that had plagued him before his visit to Strife.
To make matters worse, he was supposed to drop Bliss off with Psyche for a
few days, which meant he'd be rattling around in his temple all alone.
Bliss needed to spend some time with his mother, though, whether it meant
Cupid would be more lonesome than usual or not.

He stifled a sigh as he lifted his sleepy son into his arms, smiling down at
the soft blond curls and the tiny, perfect eyelashes curling against Bliss'
cheeks before he flashed them down to Psyche's new place. He found his
ex-wife out back, looking as lovely as ever as she stretched up to hang some
laundry over the line. For a moment he just watched her, hoping for a
twinge of regret or attraction or *something*, anything to tell him he'd
made a mistake letting her go so easily.

It never came, though, and he finally gave up and made himself visible.
"Psyche."

She turned away from her laundry at the sound of his voice, smiling sadly at
the picture her ex-husband and son presented. "Cupid, there you are. I was
starting to wonder if something had come up."

"If I was gonna stand you up I'd send Hermes," Cupid said, taking a few
steps forward and sliding Bliss into her arms. "He spent the day flying
after butterflies with Persephone, he'll probably sleep for awhile."

She nodded and looked down at her son, shifting him onto her shoulder to
distribute his weight more evenly. "He's getting so big, I won't be able to
lift him much longer. Come on in the house for a minute."

Cupid nodded and followed her, although what he really wanted to do was go
back to his temple to sulk. He'd have the next few days to do that, though,
and it wouldn't kill him to at least be polite for a few minutes. He was
lucky Psyche was civil to him at all after the way he'd just let their
marriage die, but he still couldn't explain it even to himself. Strife had
made him feel a little better about it, but sometimes he wondered if he'd
ever really loved Psyche at all.

Once Psyche had tucked Bliss into her own bed and pressed a kiss to his
forehead she came back to Cupid, gesturing toward one of the wooden kitchen
chairs. He sat down as best he could considering mortal furniture wasn't
really designed for wings, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table.

"So what's going on?" she asked, pouring some wine into two clay mugs and
pushing one of them toward him.

"What do you mean?" Cupid asked, frowning at the expectant look she gave
him.

"Cupid, we were married for almost five years. You don't think I can tell
when there's something bothering you?"

He sighed and let his shoulders slump a little, staring down into his mug so
he wouldn't have to see her disappointed expression. He should have known
Psyche would be able to sense his bad mood, but he couldn't really talk to
her about it. She'd left him for exactly this reason, after all, so even if
she was asking what was wrong that didn't necessarily mean she really wanted
to hear about it.

"It's nothing."

"We're not married anymore, you don't have to pretend everything's okay."
She reached across the table and patted his hand, smiling gently when he
looked up at her. "Just because you're a god doesn't mean you always have
the answers, right?"

"Funny, that's just what Strife said." He smiled at the thought of his
cousin, looking up just in time to see Psyche tense. For some reason she
and Strife had never really hit it off, but then they hadn't gotten much of
a chance to get to know each other before Strife died. Cupid had taken that
really hard, and he still had a hard time thinking about it sometimes.
Whenever he saw something in Bliss that reminded him of his cousin he'd find
himself wishing Strife could have known his son, watched him grow up and
played with him. None of the gods were quite as good with kids as Strife;
probably because almost all of Strife's prayers came directly from children.

"I guess he'd know," Psyche said, drawing Cupid's attention back to the fact
that he was still sitting in his ex-wife's kitchen. "Being a god and all, I
mean."

Cupid nodded and told himself he was imagining the wave of jealousy he could
feel from his ex-wife. He had to be, because there was no reason for her to
be jealous of Strife. They'd barely spent any time together, and when Cupid
got married Strife had stopped coming around almost completely. In fact the
only time Cupid really saw his cousin before Strife died was when Cupid went
to see his father and Strife happened to be hanging around. It was one of
the things he regretted most in his life.

"Yeah, I guess," Cupid answered, pushing his chair back and standing up.
"Look, Psyche, I better get going. I'll be back in a few days to pick up
Bliss. If you need anything you know how to get a hold of me."

"Sure, Cupid. I still remember how to pray," she answered, flashing a wry
grin. He grinned back at her and disappeared slowly, casting one last look
at his son as he faded out of the small kitchen.

He rematerialized in his own temple, sighing as he looked at the pile of
scrolls he had left to go through. For some reason he had a strange urge to
go see Strife again, but he knew he couldn't just blow off work. The
balance of power on Olympus depended on everybody pulling their weight, and
if his mom had to start picking up his slack he'd never hear the end of it.

Still, it had been nice to talk to Psyche for a few minutes, if only to
reassure himself that she didn't completely hate him. They were going to be
connected forever through Bliss; well, as long as she was alive, anyway, and
he was glad for their son's sake that they'd worked out a friendly split.
All she'd asked for was regular visits with Bliss and a little house near
Thrace; Cupid had thrown in the never needing to worry about money part. He
wasn't going to have his son's mother scrounging for food, there was no way
Bliss would forgive him if Cupid had just tossed her out without a second
thought.

Anyway he still felt a little responsible for the way things worked out. He
wished he felt more regret about it, but he knew it was his fault that
Psyche had decided she couldn't stay with him. Maybe he was just destined
to be lonely; maybe it was some weird catch in his godhood, he got to spend
eternity finding happiness for other people while his own love life was a
complete joke. His mom got Heph, though, and she was crazy about the guy.
He just wasn't ready to believe that it was completely hopeless - there had
to be more to immortality than orgies and answering the prayers of mortals,
didn't there?

He'd have to remember to ask Strife the next time he visited him. For a
minor god Strife seemed to know an awful lot about what went on around
Olympus, and he always seemed to have the answer to any question Cupid threw
at him. So maybe he had an answer for the whole 'meaning of life' thing.
At this point there wasn't much about Strife that would surprise Cupid;
after a couple hundred years you got to know a guy pretty well, and Cupid
knew Strife better than almost anybody, except maybe Ares.

Which reminded him, he'd been meaning to find a way to ask his father what
he could do to make Strife's life in Tartarus a little more comfortable.
Nobody was supposed to know that Ares popped in every once in awhile to
check on his nephew, but Strife had told Cupid about Ares' visits. It was a
side of his dad that Cupid hardly ever got to see, and he was grateful to
Ares for letting Strife know that he hadn't forgotten his former second in
command.

He couldn't just come out and ask Ares for suggestions, though, so he had to
find a way to bring up the subject without embarrassing his father. The
only other god he could think of to ask was Hades, and he wasn't sure he
could pull that off without Strife finding out about it. Not without making
a special trip, and the thought of wandering down to Tartarus without Strife
there to distract him made his skin crawl. No, he'd have to wait until the
next time Hades came up to Olympus for a special function, and he didn't
want to wait that long. He wasn't sure why it was so important for him to
find a way to show his cousin how much he still meant to Cupid, but at least
it would give him something to do while Bliss was away. He could use the
distraction, and if it meant making Strife happy he'd do whatever he had to.



Cupid wasn't altogether sure what he was looking for. When he'd gone to the
halls of War it had been in the hopes of getting some information about
Strife out of his father, but there was no sign of Ares anywhere. So Cupid
had decided to look around a little, to try to get some insight into what
exactly made his dark cousin and his father tick. They were a lot alike,
after all, and Cupid was hoping that by understanding the house of War
better than maybe he could figure out a way to repay Strife.

Eventually he'd wandered through the main rooms of the temple, but the
massive collection of weapons and armor had left him more confused than
ever. Strife couldn't possibly have a use for any of that stuff in the
underworld, could he? Everyone down there was already dead, so swords and
torture devices were sort of moot. Finally he'd found himself back in the
wing where Ares himself slept, and after a cursory glance into his father's
dreary bedroom Cupid had wandered down the hall to the room that used to
belong to Strife.

It was obvious from the moment he stepped into the room that no one had been
in there since Strife died. The air in the room was thick and stagnant;
there wasn't any dust on Olympus, but if there was Cupid knew it would have
settled in a thick layer over every flat surface in the room. The
bedclothes were rumpled and hastily pulled up, and Cupid could almost see
the outline of Strife's lean form in the center of the bed. Ares hadn't
cleared out any of Strife's things, not the scrolls piled haphazardly on the
desk opposite the bed or the piles of weapons in various states of
disrepair.

He had a feeling Strife had been in the process of fixing several of them,
at least the way they'd been dismantled and carefully arranged along the
floor led him to believe that Strife was doing *something* with them. Cupid
had always assumed that was a job that would fall to Heph, although he
wasn't sure what the point was of trying to fix a broken crossbow or a sword
that had been snapped off near the hilt. They were gods, after all; unless
it was a one-of-a-kind or magical item made by another god's hands they'd
usually just flash it out of existence and create a new one. As far as he
could tell all of this stuff was just run-of-the-mill metalwork, so he
couldn't imagine why Strife wanted to waste his time fixing it.

It could have been some weird punishment Ares dreamed up to teach his nephew
a lesson, but Cupid couldn't imagine Ares asking Strife to waste his time
with this stuff. No, Ares' idea of punishment was usually far more
unpleasant and involved something a lot more gruesome than being bored to
death. Which meant that Strife was messing around with all this stuff
because he wanted to. Cupid frowned at that logic, reaching up to scratch
his head absently as he tried to figure out what Strife could possibly find
enjoyable about fixing broken weapons.

Granted, Cupid was attached to his own bow, but that was different. His bow
was something he used all the time; he had a relationship with it, and
breaking in a new one would be more frustrating than it was worth. Of
course he'd have his own weapon fixed if it was possible, but as far as he
knew Strife didn't have a signature weapon. Then again, he was starting to
wonder how much he really knew about his cousin. They'd spent a lot of time
together when they were younger, and Cupid knew the basics of what Strife's
job entailed. He hung out with Ares, helped out with the grunt work, and
stirred up trouble wherever it was necessary to get a battle going or fuel a
grudge between whatever warlords Ares had a use for.

That was about all he knew, though; whatever time they'd spent hanging out
together hadn't involved talking about their jobs. Well, not Strife's job
anyway, although Cupid had spent a little time complaining about the mortals
that prayed to him. Okay, a lot of time, but Strife never seemed to mind.
In fact he usually seemed to think the stories Cupid told him were pretty
amusing, and more than once he'd begged Cupid to let him come along and try
to stir up some trouble on behalf of the house of Love.

He wasn't sure anymore why he'd always turned Strife down. Most likely it
had had something to do with Ares; incurring his father's wrath wasn't
exactly on the top of Cupid's list of things to do, and he knew Ares would
think any time Strife spent helping out Love was a waste of War's time. It
was all part of the power balance, but now that Strife was gone forever
Cupid couldn't help wishing he'd indulged his cousin a little more. Letting
Strife stir up trouble with some of his worshippers might even have been
fun, and it wasn't like Strife was so swamped with his own prayers.

Thinking like that just made him feel worse, and he let out a heavy sigh as
he let himself out of Strife's room and closed the door behind him. He
wasn't sure what Ares would say if he found Cupid going through Strife's
things, but he had a feeling his father wouldn't be thrilled. He'd
definitely want an explanation, anyway, and Cupid wasn't sure what exactly
he could tell Ares. He didn't even know why he was suddenly so concerned
with what his cousin's life had been like before he died. All he really
knew was that he missed having Strife around, and he knew it had to be
lonely down in Hades' realm.

From the looks of Strife's room and what Cupid could remember about his life
things hadn't been much more exciting for Strife when he was still on
Olympus, and for some reason Cupid felt a little responsible for that.
Shouldn't he have noticed that Strife wasn't happy? They were cousins, and
more than that, they were friends. Obviously Cupid hadn't been a very good
friend, though, and now that he wanted to make up for it he was probably too
late.

He was all the way back in Ares' throne room before he even realized he'd
moved, and he looked up to find his father home fresh from battle, his face
and clothes streaked with mud and the blood of mortals as he watched his son
brood. "Something wrong?" Ares asked, his deep voice tinged with real
concern.

Cupid shook his head absently as he watched his father wave a hand over his
leathers, erasing all traces of the battle from existence. "I was just
thinking about Strife."

"Strife's dead."

Cupid gave Ares a 'duh' look that rivaled Aphrodite's, rolling his eyes and
throwing himself into one of the uncomfortable marble chairs around the
large black table at the center of the room. "I know that, Dad. I was just
thinking about what it was like for him before he died."

"Why?"

Ares' tone shifted from concerned to guarded in less than thirty seconds,
and Cupid frowned at the voice in the back of his head telling him that his
father was hiding something. He'd expected Ares to be reluctant to talk
about his favorite nephew; whether he wanted to admit it or not, Ares had
always loved Strife as much as - if not more than - he loved any of his own
children, and Cupid knew it was still hard for his father to talk about it.
Still, if he didn't know any better he'd swear that Ares was worried about
the fact that Cupid was thinking about Strife, and that didn't make any
sense. He and Strife had been friends, at least he'd always thought they
were friends. So there was no reason to automatically assume Cupid was up
to something.

"I was just thinking about what it must have been like for him," Cupid
finally answered. "You know, before he died. I know what it's like for him
now…hanging around with Hades and Morpheus, messing around with the Titans,
that kind of thing. But don't you think he gets lonely down there?"

"It's the underworld, Cupid," Ares said in a tone that told Cupid that his
father thought that was explanation enough. "It's not meant to be a
holiday."

"I know that," Cupid answered, frowning at his father's dismissive tone. "I
just…I feel bad for him."

As soon as he said it he regretted it; he knew better than to bring up
Strife to his father, especially knowing how guilty Ares still felt over the
way Strife had died. Still, there was no one else Cupid could really talk
to about this, at least no one he could think of. He just wanted to know a
little about what Strife did with his free time, if there was something he
missed from his life on Olympus that Cupid could bring him to make him feel
a little less lonesome.

"Strife's fine," Ares said, but his voice was a little more gruff than it
had been a moment ago, and Cupid could tell he'd already pushed his father
too far. "He's accepted his fate. You have to do the same. You still have
a job to do, don't forget that."

He nodded because he knew arguing with Ares wasn't going to get him
anywhere, especially not when his father was already in a bad mood. What he
really wanted to do was ask Ares if he could think of anything Cupid could
do for Strife, but after Ares' reaction to the mention of his cousin's name
Cupid decided not to push it. Chances were his father would just tell him
that he was wasting his time worrying about a soul that was banished from
Olympus for eternity, and Cupid really didn't want to hear those words.
Part of him knew it was true, the sensible part of him that knew he should
be back at his temple going through scrolls and answering prayers. There
was another part of him that couldn't bear to listen to Ares say that out
loud, though, and that was the part of him that dragged him to his feet
before his father could say anything else.

"You're right, Dad. I better get back to it. See you around." He flashed
out of the room before Ares could answer, reappearing in his own temple. He
stood for a long moment in absolute silence, ignoring the unfamiliar hollow
in the pit of his stomach and the fact that his limbs felt a little heavier
than usual. Finally he pulled himself together and forced his legs to carry
him across the room to his desk. His father was right about one thing;
there was plenty of work to do, and if Cupid didn't do it he'd never hear
the end of it.

~

Strife was pressed up against a large outcropping of rock, one hand clapped
over his mouth to hold in a giggle, when he felt the presence of a familiar
energy signature. Immediately he forgot about tormenting Atlas with the
feather Cupid had shed on his last visit, tucking the white feather
carefully into his belt before he stood up and looked around for Ares.

He finally spotted his uncle striding across the dull gray landscape, his
jaw set in a grim scowl that most mortals and even some gods feared, but
Strife found oddly comforting. "Hey, Unc," he greeted the elder god when
Ares stopped in front of him. "What's up?"

"That do-gooder friend of my brother's got himself killed again," Ares
answered, scowling at the thought of Hercules. "I came down to see that
Hades doesn't let him go this time, but there's no reasoning with him."

"That's 'cause Persephone likes Blondie a little too much for Uncle Hades'
liking," Strife answered, grinning at the vaguely disgusted look that got
him. "Hey, there's no accountin' fer taste. Aunt Dite seems ta like him
too."

"I suppose he's less annoying than Hercules, anyway," Ares answered, falling
into step next to Strife as they made their way back toward Hades' palace.

Strife cast sidelong glances at his uncle every few seconds, his curiosity
growing in direction proportion to the intensity of Ares' scowl. Obviously
Herc the Jerk and Blondie weren't the only things on his uncle's mind; if
they were he'd have flashed back up to Olympus already. Finally he couldn't
stand the silence anymore, and he cleared his throat to get Ares' attention.
"What's on yer mind, Unc?"

He wasn't entirely sure Ares would tell him; his uncle had never been the
most communicative guy he knew, but it was obvious there was something on
his mind, and if Ares was going to talk to anybody about it he'd choose
Strife. At least now that Strife was banished to Hades' realm there was
nobody for him to gossip with except Hades himself, and the Lord of the
Underworld associated with the other gods as little as possible.

Finally Ares relented with a heavy sigh, stopping just outside the door to
Hades' palace and crossing his arms over his leather-clad chest. "Have you
seen Cupid lately?"

"He came around a few days ago," Strife answered. "Why?"

"I'm not sure," Ares answered, his forehead creasing a little more as his
frown deepened. "He's been acting a little strange lately. Yesterday I
found him wandering around my place brooding."

"Brooding? Cupe?" Strife asked, feigning surprise at that particular piece
of news. The truth was he wasn't that surprised to hear that Cupid was
still brooding; he'd hoped that his cousin had snapped out of it by now, but
he hadn't been holding his breath. He knew how good Cupid was at feeling
sorry for himself, but he had a feeling his cousin wouldn't appreciate it if
Strife told Ares what was bothering him. "He's probably still bummed out
about the whole thing with Psyche."

"Maybe," Ares answered in a voice that told Strife he wasn't buying that
explanation for a second. It seemed plausible to Strife, but he wasn't on
Olympus anymore to keep up with all the latest gossip. Being stuck in the
underworld was a real bitch sometimes. "You're sure he didn't say…anything
while he was with you?"

"Positive, Unc." Strife wasn't crazy about lying to Ares, but he'd learned
how to do it over the years and he'd gotten pretty good at it. It came in
handy when he was working for Ares, and given the choice between telling
Ares the truth and betraying Cupid's confidence he knew what he had to do.

Ares held his gaze for another long moment, but Strife didn't even flinch
under the scrutiny. He knew even blinking would give him away, and the last
thing he wanted to do was piss Cupid off. Aside from Ares Cupid was the
only god that ever came around to visit, and as much as he liked Hades, the
lord of the underworld wasn't very good company. He wouldn't trade Cupid's
visits for anything, not even for the chance to ingratiate himself with his
favorite uncle.

He'd never let on to Cupid how important his visits were, and he never
would. As far as he was concerned Cupid never needed to know about the
crush Strife had been nursing since he was practically still a godling. At
first it was more hero worship than anything; Strife was an only child - as
far as he knew, anyway - and Cupid was the only one of his cousins that
really paid him any attention. He knew it was because Cupid's dad raised
Strife as his own, but that didn't matter to Strife. All that had mattered
at the time was that Cupid seemed to want him around, and as he got older
their relationship leveled off into a more or less equal friendship.

Okay, so maybe 'equal' wasn't the best word for it, because Cupid's feelings
had never gone beyond friendship and a brotherly affection for his cousin.
Strife knew enough to keep his crush to himself, and when Cupid fell for
Psyche Strife just kept his distance. The last thing he needed was to
radiate jealousy at his best friend's wife every time he saw her; Cupid
would have picked up on that in a second, and there was no way Strife was
giving up Cupid's friendship. He'd rather never see Cupid than lose him
over some dumb feelings that wouldn't go away.

It hurt that Cupid hadn't really noticed the fact that Strife backed off,
but he was busy adjusting to married life and then fatherhood. When Bliss
came along Strife knew all hope was lost, but still he hadn't said anything.
It would just figure Psyche would leave Cupid *after* Strife died, when he
couldn't do anything about his feelings for his cousin. Sometimes, when he
was really bored and there was nobody around to torment, he amused himself
by telling himself that Psyche had done it just to spite him. He knew it
wasn't true, but in a twisted way it made him feel a little better.

All those thoughts raced through his mind as he waited for Ares to decide
that he wasn't lying, and by the time his uncle shook his head and looked
away Strife couldn't remember what they were talking about anymore.

"Alright," Ares said, "but if he comes to see you again..."

"You'll be the first ta know, Unc," Strife interrupted, patting Ares on the
shoulder and flashing the maniacal grin that kept everyone around him just
slightly off center. Right on cue Ares found himself nodding, letting
Strife steer him away from the entrance to Hades' palace. "Come on, I'll
walk ya back ta the border."

Strife was careful to steer the conversation away from Cupid on the walk
back to the boat that would take Ares back to the entrance to the
underworld. He asked about upcoming battles, discussing strategy and the
likelihood of Xena or Hercules getting in the middle of whatever wars Ares
had in the works. For awhile it was almost like it used to be, and by the
time Strife said goodbye to Ares and watched Charon carry him back across
the Styx he couldn't help feeling a little sad.

He thought about going back to tormenting Atlas or one of the other Titans,
but his heart just wasn’t in it anymore. It was always nice to see Ares,
but thinking about Cupid and talking to his uncle about battle plans just
reminded Strife of how much he'd lost. It wasn't like Callisto was even in
Tartarus where he could torture her whenever he felt like it, not that it
would make him feel that much better. What he really wanted was to be back
on Olympus, working for Ares and helping Cupid pick up the pieces of his
broken heart.

Maybe if he was still alive he'd finally have a shot with Cupid, but now
that he was banished to the underworld he could never tell Cupid how he felt
about him. It would just make Cupid feel worse, because if he had any
feelings for Strife at all it would just hurt him to know they couldn't
really be together. And if he didn't feel that way about Strife he'd just
feel guilty. No, there was no way Strife could do that to his best friend,
not after everything Cupid had meant to him when he was still alive.

There was one thing he could do for Cupid, though; he could listen to his
cousin and try to cheer him up, and he could make sure nobody ever heard
about Cupid's problems from him. He knew Cupid felt like a failure for
being a Love god without a true love, and he wasn't going to let anybody in
on something that would embarrass his cousin. He knew Ares wanted to help
his son, but Strife wasn't sure his uncle would understand even if he tried
to explain it. The only thing he could do for Cupid was keep his mouth
shut, and that was something he'd gotten really good at over the years.



Cupid managed to distract himself with work for nearly two days, but after
answering every prayer and dealing with the details of his job that he’d
been putting off he found his mind wandering more and more frequently to
Strife. Thinking about Strife didn’t make Cupid as sad as it used to, which
was definitely a good thing. He wasn’t crazy about getting all depressed at
the thought of his favorite cousin, and anyway he had enough to mope around
about without wanting to cry every time he remembered that Strife was never
coming back to Olympus.

He’d been driving himself so crazy trying to think up something he could do
for Strife that he hadn’t stopped to wonder why it suddenly mattered so much
to him. After his disastrous conversation with Ares he couldn’t help
feeling a little weird about the whole thing, though, especially considering
he hadn’t been much of a friend to Strife when he was alive.

Guilt wasn’t an emotion Cupid was used to feeling, but he’d had more than
his fair share of it lately. Whenever he thought about what Strife’s life
was like before he died Cupid felt a little more guilty for not being a
better friend, for letting Strife just drift out of his life after he got
married. At the time it hadn’t seemed all that unusual, but now he realized
that he’d been so focused on Psyche and making sure they had the perfect
marriage that he’d shut everything else out of his life.

It was his own fault that his marriage had fallen apart practically as soon
as it got started. It took his mother a lot longer than him to find the
right guy for her, and the only reason she was with Heph was because Zeus
had arranged the marriage. Maybe he should ask his grandfather to fix him
up; he couldn’t do any worse than Cupid had done, anyway.

Not that he’d ever admit to his mother’s theory - that he’d married Psyche
just to spite her. Okay, so he got a little kick out of the fact that Dite
wasn’t all that crazy about Psyche, but eventually they’d more or less
declared a truce, and anyway Cupid wasn’t shallow enough to marry somebody
just to piss off his mother. He’d really thought Psyche was the one, and he
didn’t understand why it had all cooled down so quickly. He was supposed to
spend the rest of eternity with her, and they barely lasted five years.

Frankly, it was embarrassing.

He’d given up a lot in his quest for the perfect relationship, and five
years later what did he have to show for it? Most of his family thought he
was a stuck-up airhead, his favorite cousin was dead, and his perfect wife
had left him to go back to being a mortal. She’d actually chosen mortality
over hanging around watching him brood, and if that wasn’t a slap in the
face he didn’t know what was.

Still, he’d gotten Bliss out of the deal, and that alone was worth the past
five years. Even fatherhood wasn’t enough to make him feel like his life
was complete, though, and he had no idea how to even start fixing his own
problems. That was probably why focusing on Strife was so appealing; it
meant he didn't have to think about what he was doing wrong in his own life,
and he got to feel like he was helping somebody else at the same time.

He'd thought about just finding out who Strife had been sleeping with before
he died, then killing them and delivering them to Strife in the Underworld,
but he didn't think he could go through with the actual killing part. He
could probably get one of his brothers to do it, but for some reason he
didn't want anyone to know what he was up to. They'd probably just make fun
of him anyway, and then he'd be listening to their dumb jokes for centuries.
Besides, if Strife's last lover had been a god he couldn't just kill them,
and anyway he didn't like thinking about Strife and one of their cousins.

He wasn't sure *why* that thought bothered him, it just did. Thinking about
it did unsettling things to his stomach and he'd done his best to avoid the
whole concept as much as possible. Besides, he'd never felt love from
Strife for anyone, which meant either he'd been keeping his feelings
shielded from Cupid's godhood or he'd never been in love. Since there was
no real reason for Strife to hide his feelings from his cousin that had to
mean Strife just hadn't found anybody to love before he died, and that
thought was almost more depressing than the fact that Strife was dead.

The best thing he could do for Strife was find a way around the law that
said he couldn't come back to Olympus, but Hind's blood was Hind's blood,
and anyway he was sure Ares had already tried everything he could think of
to get around the whole 'dead' thing. He'd probably felt guilty enough to
offer his life in exchange for Strife's, but Zeus would never go for that.
Even if he and Ares didn't see eye to eye the Pantheon couldn't exist
without War, and nobody trusted Strife enough to just hand over Ares'
godhood.

Not that Cupid wanted to see his father banished to Hades' realm, and he was
pretty sure Ares would like it even less. He and Hades didn't get along all
that well either, and he couldn't imagine his father languishing in the
Underworld with nothing to do except torment the Titans for eternity. At
least Strife enjoyed stirring up mischief; it gave him something to do,
anyway, and he was good at it. So in a way he was working for Hades now, he
just couldn't move back and forth between realms the way Hades and Morpheus
could.

In the end there was really only one thing he could think of to do for
Strife, and even though it meant sneaking back into Ares' place when his
father was off overseeing some battle Cupid had done it. He arrived at the
edge of the Underworld with his gift for Strife in tow, sending out a mental
call to his cousin as Charon carried him across the Styx. Strife was
waiting for him on the bank when he reached the other side, and Cupid
grinned at his cousin's curious expression and swung his burden onto his
back.

"Hey, Cupe," Strife said, raising an eyebrow at the jingling sound coming
from the bag. "Movin' in?"

"No," Cupid answered, glancing at the other god long enough to smirk at
Strife. "It's a surprise."

"Ya brought a surprise. Fer me?"

"Yeah, for you. Who else would I be down here to see?" Cupid asked, shaking
his head at the shocked look on his cousin's face.

Strife didn't say anything else on the way back to Hades' place, but every
once in awhile Cupid caught him stealing a curious glance at the bag Cupid
was carrying. He had no idea if Strife was going to appreciate what Cupid
had done for him, but he hoped it would at least give his cousin something
to do besides think up new ways to torment the souls trapped in Tartarus.

They'd barely made it through the door of Hades' place before Cupid set the
bag down and knelt on the stone floor next to it, pulling open the
drawstring as he spoke. "I don't know if you'll even want this stuff, but
it was all just lying around in your room at Dad's place, and I figured at
least it would give you something to do. When you're not working for Hades,
anyway."

When he was done talking he reached into the bag and pulled out the first
carefully wrapped bundle, untying the cloth and holding up the pieces of
broken sword hilt for Strife to see. "I tried to keep the pieces together,
but I might have mixed some of them up."

For a long moment Strife just stared down at Cupid's hands, his forehead
furrowed as though he was trying to work out what exactly Cupid was talking
about. When he finally snapped out of it he looked up, meeting Cupid's
nervous expression. "Ya mean ya drug all my old busted weapons all the way
down here just ta give me somethin' ta do?"

"Well, yeah." Cupid looked down at the sword pieces in his hand, suddenly
feeling a little foolish for going through with it. He'd known Strife
wasn't going to want all this old junk, if he did he would have asked Ares
to bring it to him a long time ago. But he hadn't been able to come up with
a better idea, and in the end he'd gathered all Strife's old weapons out of
frustration. "If you don't want them I can take them back, give them to
Heph or something. He could melt down the metal maybe, or…"

"No, Cupe…I mean yeah, I want this stuff. I just can't believe ya went ta
all that trouble on account a me."

"Why wouldn't I?" Cupid asked, frowning his confusion as Strife knelt next
to him and pulled the broken sword hilt out of his hands. "You're my
friend, Strife. I hate thinking of you down here all by yourself."

Cupid was too busy watching Strife's profile to see the pale, slender
fingers tighten convulsively against metal for just a moment. Before he
realized anything was wrong Strife relaxed, glancing up at Cupid long enough
to flash a well-practiced grin. "Thanks, Cupe. Yer a real pal."

Cupid smiled back and opened his mouth to tell Strife it was nothing, but
before he got the words out the other god leaned forward and planted a kiss
on Cupid's cheek. It was nothing; just a quick brush of lips against skin,
but the impulse took Cupid by surprise. Evidently Strife hadn't been
expecting it either, because he looked down instantly and pretended to be
fascinated with the broken sword hilt.

It was the kind of kiss Cupid would give Bliss before bedtime, or maybe his
mother when he was trying to sweet-talk her into something. It didn't
really mean anything, just Strife's way of telling Cupid it meant something
to him that his cousin cared. But Cupid's cheek felt warm where Strife's
mouth had been, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching up to press his
fingers against his skin. He didn't realize he was staring at Strife until
his cousin set the sword hilt down and reached for the bag, pulling out the
wrapped bundles and piling them on the floor around him.

"Did ya bring that one knife?" Strife asked, his hands resting on his thighs
as he surveyed the bundles for the one most likely to hold what he was
looking for. "It's got a short blade an' this cool design on the handle,
kinda black an' silver with a chunk a red amber at the end."

"Um…yeah, I think I saw that someplace," Cupid answered, shaking himself out
of his reverie when he realized Strife was talking to him. He forced the
thought of the kiss to the back of his mind and reached for the nearest
bundle while Strife unwrapped another one, concentrating on looking for the
knife Strife wanted instead of the feeling of his cousin's lips pressed
against his cheek.

~

Aphrodite was poised elegantly at her desk, about to add the last crucial
ingredient in the love potion she'd been working on for nearly a week, when
the silence in her temple was broken by the sound of her brother bellowing
Cupid's name. The sudden interruption jarred her so much that she added an
extra drop of passionflower essence to the potion, inadvertently
guaranteeing that the bride she'd been making the potion for would give her
new husband a heart attack on their wedding night.

Her dainty forehead wrinkled in an unflattering scowl, and she set the
bottle down carefully before she stood up and smoothed imaginary wrinkles
out of her dress. When she was sure she was presentable for company she
focused on her brother's energy signature and flashed into the hallway that
led to her garden. "What's the deal, bro? They can hear you screeching
from Atlantis. Anyway, Cupie's not even here. I haven't seen him all day."

Ares stopped abruptly at the sound of his sister's voice, spinning on his
heel to scowl at the love goddess. "What do you mean, you haven't seen him
all day?"

Dite rolled her eyes dramatically, letting out a little huff of breath
before she answered him. "What's it sound like? I haven't seen him. He
doesn't live here anymore, you know. Got his own place, oh…a couple hundred
years ago."

"I'm aware that Cupid has his own palace, Dite," Ares hissed through
clenched teeth. "But I've already been there, and he's not at home. He's
not in any of his temples, and none of the Muses have seen him today."

"So he's off someplace chasing a skirt. Or maybe he swung by Psyche's place
to catch a glimpse of Bliss. You know how he gets when Bliss is down
there." Her nose wrinkled with distaste on the last word, and she let out a
dramatic shudder that shook her well-proportioned figure. "Can't say I
blame him, I don't like thinking of the poor little guy down there around
all those mortals all the time."

"He's not there, I've checked," Ares answered, arms crossed over his chest
as he began pacing in front of her.

"What do you want him for, anyway?" Dite asked. She hated when Ares paced;
it made her nervous, and nervous wasn't good for her complexion. "Last time
I checked you two didn't have a lot to do with each other."

Ares stopped pacing and turned to face her again, his frown fading into a
thoughtful expression. "Has he said anything to you about Strife recently?"

"Strife? No," Dite answered, frowning at the mention of their dead nephew.
"What's Strife got to do with anything?"

"Cupid was in my temple asking questions about him the other day. He was
acting strangely, and his signature was all over my temple. Almost as
though he'd been looking for something. And today when I got back from the
battle in Athens he'd been and gone again, and for some reason he'd taken
all of Strife's things with him."

"So you're saying what…Cupie stole all Strife's stuff and took off
somewhere? Why would he want a bunch of old weapons?"

"That's what I don't know," Ares answered, his scowl returning. "I don't
understand why he has a sudden interest in Strife. He's gone, and there's
nothing we can do to bring him back. Taking Strife's things out of my
temple isn't going to help."

Dite shrugged, stopping short of rolling her eyes at her brother. She
wasn't sure what the big deal was; okay, so it was a little weird that Cupid
had stolen all Strife's stuff out of his old room, but it wasn't like Strife
had anything Ares wanted. "They were friends, maybe he just misses him."

"I don't see why, they spend more time together now than they did when
Strife was alive."

She knew the rest of the gods thought of her as a ditz; they all had roles
they played for the benefit of the mortals that worshipped them, and it was
hard for the other gods not to start buying into those roles after seeing
them for a few hundred years. But the truth was that she'd always been a
fairly shrewd observer, and she knew Ares well enough to know when he was
really worried about something. The fact that he was worried about Strife
wasn't so unusual, he'd been more like a son to Ares than most of his own
children. What she didn't get was why Ares was worried about the fact that
Cupid and Strife were spending time together.

"So Cupie goes to visit him once in awhile. You know how he is. He was
always so sensitive, he's probably just worried that Strife's lonesome down
there with nobody but grumpy old Hades to keep him company."

Ares' expression let her know that he thought she was missing the point
entirely, but that was nothing new. She was used to her brother treating
her like she didn't know what she was talking about; they'd never seen eye
to eye on Cupid, but in the end she'd always won out because Cupid was
dedicated to Love. "That doesn't explain why he's been stealing from me,"
Ares practically growled.

"Geez, bro, lighten up," Dite said, knowing full well that she was just
going to irritate him more. "It's just some rusty old junk, right? It's
not like Strife had anything important just lying around his room, if he did
you would have hauled it out of there yourself by now."

"That's not the point," Ares shot back, his eyes narrowing dangerously for a
moment. Finally he decided it wasn't worth arguing with her and shook his
head, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Just do me a favor and tell Cupid I
want to see him."

He disappeared without bothering to wait for an answer, leaving Dite staring
indignantly at the spot where he'd been a moment ago. "Zeus, that's rude,"
she muttered, flipping her blonde curls indignantly at the remnants of his
energy signature before she turned and marched back to her love potion. She
had no idea why Ares was so bent out of shape about Cupid's friendship with
Strife, but obviously there was something going on that Ares wasn't telling
her.

If she didn't know better she'd think her brother was jealous of Cupid and
Strife, but there was nothing going on between them. If there was she'd
know about it, and anyway Cupid wasn’t going to go all the way to the
Underworld when he could get as much action as he wanted from practically
any god or mortal in existence. All he had to do was look at someone and
they practically melted at his feet, he wasn't pining away for Strife, of
all people.

Not that Dite had anything against Strife; he'd been a sweet kid, and even
though he'd grown into a weird adult he'd always been pleasant enough to
her. It wasn't his fault he was House of War, that was enough to warp
anybody. But him and Cupie? There was just no way. Sure, they were
friends and Cupid liked him, but as lovers went Cupid *was* Love, and Strife
was just…well, he was a little funny-looking, if she was going to be honest.
She was sure he was still a sweet kid under all that black leather and
unfortunate hairstyling, but the truth was he just didn't have much to offer
her son. For starters he was dead, and she couldn't see even Cupid feeling
sorry enough for his cousin to overlook that detail.

If Ares had some kind of weird thing going with Strife before he died she
could see where he'd be a little jealous that Cupid was taking an interest,
but Ares had to know that Strife wasn't Cupid's type. Anyway she was almost
sure Ares and Strife hadn't been involved; Ares treated Strife like a son,
not a lover. There had to be some other explanation, but she wasn't going
to risk giving herself wrinkles by worrying about it. Ares would work out
whatever it was, and if it was important Cupid would tell her all about it.

She smiled at her logic and perched on the edge of her chair again, picking
up her love potion and pondering it for a long moment. Finally she decided
that she hadn't added the final ingredient yet, so she picked up the
passionflower essence and carefully measured one perfect drop.



Cupid had no idea what he'd done, that much Strife was sure of. He didn't
want Cupid to know how much the collection of broken weapons meant to him;
part of him was afraid Cupid wouldn't understand why he'd kept it all for so
long, and the rest of him worried that his cousin would just think it was
stupid. Still, it was something that Cupid had brought him all the odds and
ends of broken weapons, even if he didn't know what they were.

There was no way he could know; nobody knew, not even Ares. He'd never told
anyone why he kept what must look to anybody else like a collection of
useless scraps of metal. The truth was that every single broken knife or
bit of arrow marked some event in Strife's life. The broken sword hilt
Cupid had unwrapped first came from the first battle Strife had ever fought
in, a souvenir to remind him of the rush he'd felt the first time he found
himself surrounded by the smell of blood and sweat and the sound of clashing
weapons.

There were bits of broken weapons from all the battles that meant something
to him; knives he'd taken off good men who died in battle, the first short
blade his mother had ever given him. Every piece of twisted metal meant
something, and as he ran his fingers over the hilt of his favorite knife he
couldn't help wondering how Cupid could have known to bring him these things
that he must have thought were nothing more than a collection of junk.

"Why?" he asked before he had time to think the question through, looking up
from the knife he'd taken out of the first man he killed to meet Cupid's
curious expression. "How come ya did all this, Cupe?"

"I didn't do anything," Cupid answered, and Strife could tell from his frown
that he really didn't understand what he'd done. "I just saw all this stuff
and I figured you were probably planning on trying to fix it before
you...you know. Since you've got a lot of time on your hands now I thought
it might give you something to do."

And he wasn't sure if it meant anything that Cupid couldn't say the word
'died' when it came to him, but he wanted it to. He hated himself for
wanting it to mean something, because Cupid having feelings for him would
just hurt them both, and that was the last thing Strife wanted. But he
wanted Cupid to care, even if they were just going to be best friends for
eternity. If that was as much as Strife ever got he'd take it; at least it
was something, and it was more than most of the gods were willing to give
him.

Not that he minded much that the rest of the Pantheon thought he was a
little crazy. It was part of the image, after all, and as long as Ares and
Cupid saw past it that was all he cared about. He didn't need anybody else;
okay, there was his mother, but she'd never been real big on the whole 'mom'
thing and he was okay with that. He'd learned to be, and anyway Ares was a
better father than Strife's own dad probably would have been, whoever he
was. Sure, he was a little rough around the edges and most of the other
gods assumed the whole War persona was the real deal, but Strife knew
better. He was the only one that got to see what a big marshmallow Ares
really was, and he was the only one who wouldn't be cut in two for saying
so.

Of course if he was actually still alive and Ares heard him say that he
might be dead meat, but now that he didn't have that threat hanging over him
anymore he could pretty much say whatever was on his mind. The thought of
actually calling Ares a marshmallow to his face surprised a giggle out of
him, and he looked up to find Cupid watching him with a bemused expression.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothin', I was just thinkin' 'bout Unc," Strife answered, trying and
failing to stifle another giggle.

"There's something funny about Dad? Now this I gotta hear," Cupid said,
dropping the broken arrow he'd been holding and leaning back on his hands.
Between the way he was grinning and the way his eyes shone in anticipation
it was hard to believe he was more than twenty years old, never mind a
hundred or so years older than Strife. He looked so young and innocent that
Strife found himself wishing he'd never kissed Cupid on the cheek, because
now all he could think about was crawling across the floor and kissing him
again. Only he wouldn't be aiming for Cupid's cheek this time, and that was
the fastest way to make sure his best friend never came to see him again.

"It's nothin', really," he finally answered, shaking his head to hide the
fact that he was blushing. "Ya kinda had ta be there."

"Come on, Strife, tell me," Cupid pleaded, sticking his bottom lip out in a
pretty pout that Strife was positive he'd practiced in the mirror at some
point. And it really wasn't fair that he looked so good when he did that,
because Strife had never wanted to spill his guts to anyone so much in his
entire life. But there was no way he could tell Cupid that his own father,
the big, bad god of War, was really a softie. He couldn't, because dead or
not, Ares would find out, and then he'd find a way to make Strife suffer.

He shook his head more regretfully this time, curling his fingers into fists
to keep himself from falling for the sad eyes Cupid was giving him.
"Really, Cupe, it's no big deal."

He could tell his cousin didn't believe him, and he was sorry he'd ever even
thought it now. There was nothing he could do about it, though, so he
cleared his throat and changed the subject. "There's gotta be somethin' I
can do ta pay ya back fer all this," he said, waving his hand over the
collection of metal surrounding them on the floor.

For a few seconds Cupid just looked at him, and Strife couldn't help
wondering if maybe his cousin knew a little more about the way Strife felt
about him than he'd been letting on. It was the only explanation he could
come up with for why Cupid was looking at him like that, and he found
himself half-hoping that Cupid would think of a way to pay him back that
involved a bed and a lot less clothes.

"Forget it," Cupid finally said, sending any hope Strife might have had
crashing back down around him. "It was nothing. I just wanted to say
thanks. For listening to me the other day."

"That's what friends do," Strife answered, doing his best to sound
enthusiastic about being relegated to 'friend' status. He knew it was the
most he could hope for, but that didn't make it hurt any less whenever he
was reminded of the fact that he'd never mean anything more to Cupid.

"Yeah, but you're...I shouldn't complain to you about my problems," Cupid
finished, frowning and looking down at the floor so he wouldn't have to see
Strife's expression.

And yeah, being banished to Hades' realm was a bitch most of the time, but
it didn't make him a total freak, did it? He knew how much Cupid hated
coming down to the Underworld, which just made him appreciate his cousin's
visits more. But he didn't want anybody coming around out of pity,
especially not Cupid.

"Look, Cupe, I *like* hearin' 'bout yer life," Strife said, hoping he didn't
sound as pathetic as he felt. "I mean it's not like I got one a my own
these days, and anyway yer the only one that ever even bothers ta come see
me. Well, you an' Unc, anyway."

"Does Dad get down here a lot?" Cupid asked, his embarrassment forgotten
long enough to look up again.

Strife shrugged and looked down at the knife his mother had given him. "I
dunno 'bout a lot. He stops by whenever he's got somethin' ta talk ta Uncle
Hades about, that kinda thing. He was down here the other day lookin' fer
Herc's sidekick."

"So that's it? He just stops by when he's got something to talk to Hades
about?"

It sounded pretty bad when Cupid said it that way, but Strife wasn't about
to start dwelling on why his uncle didn't come down to see him more. "He's
a busy guy, Cupe."

"Yeah, I guess." Cupid frowned down at his knees for a couple more seconds
before he pushed himself off the floor abruptly, looking down at the younger
god once he was on his feet. "Speaking of which, I should probably get
going."

"Yeah, sure," Strife answered. He started to push himself up, but before he
got off the floor a hand appeared in front of him and he found himself being
pulled to his feet in front of his cousin. Cupid was even stronger than he
looked, a fact which Strife hadn't thought was possible but would probably
feature in his dreams for awhile. A moment later he found himself face to
face with Cupid's perfect features, and he had to swallow hard to keep
himself from swaying forward into the other god's body heat.

He expected Cupid to mumble an awkward goodbye and leave Strife alone and
more confused than usual, but before he had a chance to wonder what was
happening Cupid's arms were around him and he was being hauled forward into
a tight embrace. This was definitely new, and he wasn't going to think
about the possibility of getting used to it, but he liked it. He liked it a
lot more than Cupid would probably want to know about. Still, he had hugged
Strife first, and if the younger god didn't know better he would have sworn
he heard Cupid sigh when Strife's arms slid around his waist.

Way too soon Cupid let go of him and stepped backwards, narrowly avoiding
landing on one of Strife's weapons as he backed away from his cousin. "I'll
see you soon. If that's okay," he added quickly, and now Strife was almost
sure he was blushing.

"Yeah, Cupe, course it is," he answered. "Ya want me ta walk ya back ta
Charon?"

"That's okay," Cupid said, already halfway to the door before Strife even
got the question out. "I can find my way. See you, Strife."

"See ya," Strife said just before the door closed. Then Cupid was gone, and
Strife was left frowning at the heavy wooden door and wondering what exactly
had just happened.

~

Cupid was still in a daze when he found himself in his mother's temple, his
head swimming with the memory of Strife's arms around him and his lips
brushing against Cupid's cheek. None of it made sense, not the fact that
Strife had kissed him or the even more worrisome fact that Cupid couldn't
stop thinking about it.

He still wasn't sure why he'd hugged his cousin; it wasn't something they
usually did, but Strife hadn't seemed all that surprised by it. In fact
Cupid was more surprised than the other god, at least as far as he could
tell. It just hadn't seemed right to leave Strife without *something*, and
it wasn't like he could kiss him goodbye.

Did he want to kiss Strife? It was something else he'd never thought about
before, but now that he had he had to admit that the idea sort of appealed
to him. And he must be really lonely if he was thinking about trying to
seduce the other god, especially considering Strife was banished to Hades'
realm and at best all they could have was a few hours together when Cupid
wasn't busy with his godly duties. It went way beyond the concept of
'long-distance relationship', and he had no idea if he even wanted a
relationship with Strife.

He wasn't exactly what people would call attractive, but there were a lot of
things about Strife that Cupid had always found sort of endearing. He'd
never really given it much thought; it had never really mattered before, but
since he'd been thinking about Strife more lately it was hard to avoid the
fact that he was attracted to his cousin. There had been a million better
times to think about this; like the few hundred years before his marriage,
back when Strife was still alive. Now…now Strife was a permanent fixture in
the Underworld, and it was entirely possible that Cupid had missed his
chance.

Still, Strife enjoyed his company, and there was no rule saying they
couldn't do whatever they wanted when Cupid visited him. And just because
Strife wasn't in love with him didn't mean Cupid couldn't help him forget
how lonely his life was for awhile. He had to be lonely; even Ares didn't
visit all that often, and when he did it was only because he wanted
something.

His mind was still reeling when he stumbled into his mother's throne room a
little less than gracefully, his wings stretching out behind him to catch
him before he lost his footing and landed on the stone floor.

"Cupie, there you are," Dite said as soon as he walked in. "Is there
something going on with you and Strife?"

"What?" It was possible that he was blushing, but he wasn't going to think
about that. It would be too much like admitting guilt, and from the way
Dite had phrased the question, he suddenly felt like he had something to
feel guilty about. "Why do you think that?"

She stared at him thoughtfully for a long moment, and Cupid was almost sure
the truth was written all over his face. Not that there was anything
actually going on between him and Strife - not yet, anyway - but the fact
that he'd thought about it was bad enough. A moment later she shook her
head and grinned, and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been
holding.

"It's crazy, I know. That's what I told the big lug, but he was all freaked
out just 'cause you asked a couple questions about Strife." She turned away
from him before Cupid could ask which 'big lug' she was talking about, but
he had a sinking feeling that he already knew. He wasn't sure why his
father would care what he and Strife did, but Ares had always been a little
protective of his nephew in that 'nobody can hurt him but me' way that the
war gods seemed to think was normal.

He began backing toward the door before he even realized he'd moved; he
didn't know where he was going, but when Dite turned back toward him
suddenly he froze in his tracks. "Hey, Cupie?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"Did you ever hear anything about Ares and Strife having a thing?"

Ares and…that could explain Ares' sudden interest in what Cupid did with his
time, but the thought left a sour hollow in the pit of his stomach. "Dad
and Strife? No. I mean they spent a lot of time together, but..."

"That's what I thought," Dite interrupted, chewing her lip thoughtfully,
"but I was getting some major protective vibes off Ares earlier. He said
you stole a bunch of Strife's old junk out of his place, and he was asking
questions about what was going on with you two. Why else would he care?"

Cupid didn't have an answer for her, at least not one that he was willing to
say out loud. He'd just talked to Strife about Ares, though, and he never
got the impression from his cousin that he thought of Ares as anything other
than…well, a father, really. Then again, Cupid had never actually come
right out and asked what exactly Ares and Strife did when his dad went down
to see Strife, and suddenly he had a very vivid mental image that was more
disturbing than any of the things he'd ever seen in Tartarus.

"Cupid? You okay, hon? You look a little...well, green. And it's
definitely not your color."

"I'm fine," he answered, forcing his eyes open again. "There's nothing
going on between Dad and Strife. He's probably just pissed that I went into
his place without telling him first."

Dite's concerned expression immediately shifted into confusion. "What's up
with that, anyway? Why'd you take a bunch of old junk out of Strife's room
if there's nothing going on with you two?"

"I thought he might be bored rattling around Hades' place all by himself,"
Cupid answered. It was as close to the truth as she or anyone else was
getting, and it was at least part of his motivation. "I just thought he
might want something to do besides torture the Titans."

She flashed one of those indulgent grins that she used to give him when he
was still a godling and he did something she considered generous. "That's
just what I told the big jerk. You were just being a good friend."

"Right." If she wanted to believe that he wasn't going to argue with her.
He wished he could believe it, but in the past few minutes he'd been forced
to take a good, hard look at his real motivation. More than anything he
wished he could go back to the moment before he'd walked into Dite's temple,
just so he wouldn't have to hear her say that Ares had sounded jealous of
his friendship with Strife. His own father...the thought made his stomach
turn again, but it wasn't like he and Ares had ever been close. He was
pretty sure his father thought he was just as flaky as Dite, and Cupid had
never had a lot of patience for Ares' brooding and temper tantrums.

Maybe there was something going on between Ares and Strife; as much as he
hated the thought, Cupid knew it was possible. It was likely, even,
considering how much time they'd spent in each other's company before Strife
died. But Strife himself had said that Ares didn't come around much now
that he was dead, and that meant that whatever was going on between them had
cooled off. So Cupid wasn't stepping on his father's territory, he was just
helping Strife move on. The only question was whether or not Strife wanted
to move on, or if there was something to his relationship with Ares that he
hadn't told Cupid yet.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If there was something going on between Ares and Strife they’d managed to
keep the rest of the Pantheon completely in the dark. At least Cupid hadn’t
gotten anywhere by asking around, and he’d asked just about everyone he
could think of. Granted, he’d had to be subtle about it, but most of his
family was more than happy to gossip if they thought they knew something
scandalous or otherwise embarrassing. Not that sleeping with Strife was
something they’d all consider scandalous, but Ares had always acted like
just the idea that he might be care about something besides war would ruin
his reputation.

No one had heard anything about Ares’ love life in ages, though, and other
than an occasional appearance at an orgy no one had seen him with anyone
else, immortal or otherwise. None of that convinced Cupid that Strife
definitely wasn’t sleeping with Ares, but it was frustrating that he
couldn’t find out *anything* about his own father’s relationship status. He
was Love, for Zeus’ sake, he was supposed to know these things. In fact he
was starting to think the other members of his family should have to
register any relationships with him and Dite just so they could keep track
of what was going on in the Pantheon.

Not that he thought for a second that any of them would go for that,
especially Zeus. It would certainly make his life easier right now, but
since his current preoccupation had nothing to do with his job he couldn’t
make a very effective argument for it. No, this was clearly personal, and
the longer he went without seeing either Strife or his father the more
obsessed he got with the idea of them together.

He’d been avoiding Ares since the last time he talked to his mother; it
wasn’t that easy to dodge his father, but Cupid had known him long enough to
stay a step ahead of him for awhile. He knew if Ares caught up to him he
was just going to yell at Cupid for going into his place and taking stuff
without asking, and Cupid wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his temper in
check. Picking fights with Ares was something even the craziest of the gods
knew better than to try, and even though he was Ares’ son Cupid knew that
didn’t guarantee him any special dispensation. If he lost his temper and
admitted to being attracted to Strife there was no telling how Ares would
react, especially if he still thought he had some kind of claim on the
younger god.

So he was avoiding his father, although it had meant spending a lot more
time in his temples on Earth than usual. He’d even spent some time at
Psyche’s place, and while it was nice to see Bliss he probably wouldn’t have
dropped by so often if he wasn’t trying not to go home. Whenever Psyche
asked him what was wrong he just changed the subject, but he knew sooner or
later she’d get tired of him avoiding her questions and start demanding
answers.

He was running out of options his father wouldn’t think of right away, and
the shield he’d had up around his powers for the past few days would only
fool Ares for so long. But it had worked so far, and by the time he finally
picked up Bliss and took him back to his own place he was pretty sure he’d
managed to dodge Ares for another day.

That lasted as long as it took for him to tuck a sleeping Bliss into his bed
and close his bedroom door. He was so focused on being quiet so he wouldn’t
wake his son that he didn’t notice the presence of another god until he
turned around, taking an involuntary step backwards when he found his father
standing in front of him with his arms crossed over a leather-clad chest.

“Dad,” Cupid said, his jaw set as he waited for the lecture to begin.
“Bliss is sleeping. What is it?”

For a moment Ares seemed to consider whether or not it was worth waking up
his grandson, then he cocked his head in the direction of Cupid’s sitting
room and motioned for his son to follow. Cupid frowned at the back of his
father’s head, but he forced his legs to carry him in the direction Ares had
disappeared. There was no way he could avoid the other god forever, and if
Ares was determined to have this conversation then they might as well get it
over with.

He stopped at the doorway, unconsciously mirroring his father’s posture as
he crossed his arms over his own chest. Ares still hadn’t said anything,
but he was staring at Cupid as though he could see right through him, and it
was hard not to squirm under that gaze. Finally, when Cupid was sure he
wouldn’t be able to stand the silence another second, Ares cleared his
throat and took a step forward.

“What are you up to?” he asked, his voice low and deceptively calm. At
least Cupid assumed it was deceptive, because there was no way his father
would have spent the past few days looking for him if he wasn’t still
furious.

“What do you mean?”

Ares sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes, dropping his arms to his sides
and stalking forward until he was less than a foot away from Cupid. “Don’t
waste my time. You broke into my house and took things that don’t belong to
you, and I want to know why.”

“They don’t belong to you, either.”

He knew he sounded more or less like he did when he was still a godling and
his father tried to tell him what to do; their relationship had never been
what he’d call close, and when he was younger he’d always resented Ares’
occasional attempts to play dad. This was different, though, because it was
the first time he’d seen his own father as a rival, and the thought of
actually standing up to Ares was more than a little unsettling.

It was obvious Ares wasn’t exactly expecting it either, at least if the
brief flash of surprise in his eyes was any indication. Before Cupid had a
chance to enjoy the fact that he’d shocked his father the surprise was gone,
replaced by a dangerous look that he’d come to fear over the years. “Strife
was entrusted to my care long before you could even work those wings of
yours, Son. That includes his possessions, and you had no right to go into
my home and take *anything* without my permission.”

“What do you care? It was just some broken weapons. And don’t call me
‘son’.” He added the last thought with the intention of hurting his father,
but there was no sense of victory when he saw the fleeting glimmer of pain
in the older god’s eyes. He could have chalked it up to wounded pride on
Ares’ part, but every once in awhile he got the feeling that his father
regretted the distance between them as much as Cupid did. He knew most of
it was because they belonged to different houses, but they’d never seen
eye-to-eye even when he was younger.

Still, they’d always tolerated each other, even when they were getting on
each other’s nerves. The way Ares was looking at him now was generally
reserved for warlords that failed him or Hercules, and considering it had to
do with Strife that had to be a bad sign. He suppressed an involuntary
shudder at his father’s stormy expression and squared his shoulders, setting
his jaw in an even tighter line and staring as defiantly as he dared back at
the older god.

“Broken weapons or not, they’re not yours to do with as you please, Cupid,”
Ares answered, accentuating Cupid’s name in a way that made the younger god
wince involuntarily. “You’re to return everything you took immediately.”

“I can’t.”

His father’s eyes narrowed a little more, and for a second Cupid
contemplated flashing out of his own halls and taking refuge at his mother’s
place. He couldn’t leave Bliss alone, though, and anyway he wasn’t about to
run away from his father.

“Why not?” Ares asked through gritted teeth.

“Because I brought them to Strife. It’s his stuff, if you want it back so
bad go get it from him.”

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before Ares spoke again, but it felt
like hours before either of them broke the tense silence that had settled
between them. “What is going on between you and Strife?” Ares finally
asked, one eyebrow raised as he watched Cupid take a step backwards.

“Nothing. He’s my friend. Besides, what do you care? You never even go to
see him unless you want something. But I guess that’s the way it always
was, so he’s probably used to it. He’s still got feelings, you know. Just
because he’s…”

“Dead, Cupid. I’m well aware that his death doesn’t change who he is. But
he’s gone, and he’s never coming back.”

“I know that,” Cupid snapped, his anger rising a little at how easy it was
for his father to say that word. He made it sound so matter-of-fact, like
Strife’s death didn’t mean anything. Cupid had always thought Ares blamed
himself for Strife’s death, that he even felt guilty about it. But he
sounded so cold, and for the first time it was hard for him to believe that
Ares cared at all what had happened to his nephew. “He’s all alone down
there, I just wanted to give him something to do. What difference does it
make?”

“This isn’t a game,” Ares snapped, the anger in his voice surprising Cupid
into taking another step backwards. “You have no idea what you’re doing,
Cupid. Stay away from him, it’s the best thing you could do for him.”

“Stay away from him? What, like you do? Come on, I know you go down there
to see him. You’re not as good at keeping things secret as you think you
are.” He knew he was pushing his luck, and any second now he was going to
step over a line he shouldn’t cross. And maybe later he’d wish he could
take back everything he’d said, but for now all he knew was that Ares was
trying to tell him what to do, and he wasn’t about to just roll over and
take it.

“I’m warning you, Cupid, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A shiver ran up Cupid’s spine at the dangerous quality of his father’s
voice, but he’d gone too far to back down now. Besides, it wasn’t fair that
Ares got to show up whenever he felt like it and tell Cupid what he could
and couldn’t do. He was a major god with a son of his own, for Zeus’ sake,
Ares couldn’t just tell Cupid who he was allowed to be friends with.

“I’ll stay away from Strife when he tells me to,” he answered, dredging up
every ounce of will power in him to keep from looking away from his father’s
penetrating gaze. He could feel his limbs trying to tremble, but he forced
them into stillness by sheer will and waited for whatever his father threw
at him.

A moment later Ares scowled and shook his head, then he was gone in a flash
of black and Cupid was left gaping at the empty space where his father used
to be. He’d never known Ares to back down from an argument before,
especially not one over something he considered to be his property. And he
had to think he still had a claim on Strife, it was the only reason he’d
even care what Cupid did with his time. This couldn’t be about a bunch of
broken weapons, and it sure as hell wasn’t about Cupid feeling sorry for his
cousin.

It was kind of a let-down after all the time he’d spent avoiding Ares, but
he was sure it wasn’t over. His father wouldn’t just drop the subject with
a warning and walk away, would he? Unless…unless he was on his way to the
Underworld right now to warn Strife to stay away from Cupid.

He didn’t even stop to think before he turned and headed back to Bliss’
room, picking up his son and flashing into his mother’s temple. He
deposited the sleeping godling in his startled mother’s arms and muttered
something about collecting him in the morning, then he disappeared before
she had a chance to ask him what he was doing. The last thing he felt like
doing was explaining anything to Dite; he wasn’t even sure what he was
doing, but he knew if he stopped to try to explain he probably wouldn’t be
able to go through with it.

Not that he knew exactly what ‘it’ entailed, but he wasn’t going to just sit
back and let his father tell him who he could spend his time with. He
didn't stop to think about how strange it would probably look to Strife if
Cupid showed up right on Ares' heels, and he never considered the fact that
it was probably a little late to go visiting even in the Underworld. The
only thing on his mind was making sure his father didn't get too far ahead
of him.

When he materialized at the edge of the Styx he searched for Strife's power
signature, smiling to himself when he felt a mental nudge almost
immediately. He wasn't sure how Strife always knew when he was there, but
it made him feel a little better about the fact that he was wading through
the realm of the dead to visit his cousin.

The trip across the Styx seemed to take forever, and by the time he reached
the other side Cupid was twitching with anticipation. He had no idea what
he was going to say to Strife, but now that his cousin knew he was there he
couldn't just turn around and go home. He had to go through with whatever
it was he was planning - he just hoped he figured out what it was before he
saw Strife.

Unfortunately his cousin had always been faster than him at navigating
through the Underworld, and almost as soon as he stepped off the boat Strife
appeared in front of him. "Cupe? What's the mattah? Ya look like ya just
saw a ghost or somethin'."

Strife grinned at his own joke and Cupid tried to smile back, but he could
tell by his cousin's expression that the result was pathetic. "I needed to
see you. Is Dad here?"

"Unc? Nah, he hasn't come around fer awhile. Why, what's up? Don't tell
me yer joinin' up with War now or somethin'."

"No, nothing like that," Cupid answered quickly, his heart skipping a beat
at the younger god's expression. He couldn't be sure because Strife had
always kept his emotions carefully guarded, but he was almost positive he'd
detected a note of jealousy just for a second. It followed that Strife
would be jealous of anyone that replaced him as Ares' right hand man, but he
couldn't really believe that Cupid would do that. Besides, there was no way
Ares would ever go for that.

"So what gives, Cupe? Yer startin' ta make me kinda nervous."

"Dad came to see me tonight," Cupid began, hoping he was doing the right
thing. "He was pretty mad that I took all that stuff out of your room. He
was mad about…well, everything, really."

"He probably just had a bad run-in with Jerkules or somethin'," Strife said,
but Cupid could tell by his expression that he was more nervous than he was
letting on. "Besides, he's always mad about somethin', Cupe. Ya just gotta
learn ta stay outta the way."

He had no idea how to make Strife understand what he was saying, not without
blurting out the whole truth. He wasn't worried about Strife being
attracted to him; he was Love, after all, and he'd never really had to deal
with personal rejection. Not on a sexual level, anyway, but he wasn't sure
if seducing Strife was the best way to handle the situation. He wasn't even
sure anymore what he wanted from his cousin; all he really knew was that he
wouldn't be able to stay away, no matter what his father said.

"Look, Strife, if you and Dad still have something going I understand, but
you said yourself he doesn't come around that much and…"

"Wait a second," Strife interrupted, blue eyes wide with confusion and shock
when Cupid stopped rambling and looked up at him. "Me an' Unc? What makes
ya think we got somethin' goin' on?"

"He told me to stay away from you. Why else would he say that?" Cupid
asked, confusion marring his features as he tried to make sense of what
Strife was saying.

"I dunno, Cupe, but it ain't 'cause I'm sleepin' with him," Strife answered.
"I mean no offense, I love the big guy an' all, but me an' Unc? *So* not
happenin'."

"Wait, so you…" Cupid trailed off as Strife's words sank in, his momentary
elation at the news quickly replaced by more confusion. "But if you and Dad
were never together, then what's his problem?"

Strife shrugged and looked down at the gray earth beneath his feet, focusing
on the line he was tracing with the toe of his boot so he wouldn't have to
look at Cupid. "Beats me, Cupe. I mean there's nothin' between you an' me
anyway."

Until then it hadn't even dawned on Cupid that Strife had no idea what he'd
spent the last few days thinking about. Obsessing, really, and now that
he'd gone this far he couldn't turn back, could he? The truth was that he
didn't really want to, not when Strife was standing in front of him looking
as shy as he had when he was just Bliss' age. He looked so frail and lonely
and Cupid didn't want to believe it, but he could almost swear there was a
little hope in his cousin's eyes.

Talking was something Cupid had never been great at; he could listen to the
problems and prayers and wishes of his petitioners, and he could grant them
whatever was in his power to grant. The actual talking part he'd never been
great at, though, and he knew that was part of the reason Psyche had left
him. But there was something he could do without hesitation, and before he
even thought about it he was moving forward and resting a hand on the back
of Strife's neck.

"Just this," he said, smiling at the look of utter astonishment in those
familiar blue eyes before he leaned down and covered Strife's lips with his
own. And it was everything he'd hoped it would be since the first moment he
thought about kissing Strife; since before then, really, because it felt the
way he'd always imagined kissing should feel. There was the usual surge of
desire that ran straight down his spine and settled at the pit of his
stomach, but along with it was a tenderness and an urgency that he was sure
he'd never felt before. The best part was that Strife was kissing him back
with just as much need, and for the first time in his life Cupid could feel
the emotions radiating off his cousin.

The wave of feeling hit him so hard that he lost his footing, stumbling a
little and spreading his wings out behind him to catch his balance. The
movement broke the kiss, and when he caught his balance and started to move
forward again a hand landed on the center of his chest to hold him back.

"Cupe," Strife said, a wave of regret and need rolling off him and making
Cupid's heart ache with its intensity, "I can't."



As soon as he heard Strife's words Cupid let out a shaky laugh, telling
himself it had to be a joke. Strife was just messing with his head, trying
to get the upper hand in the situation. No one had ever said no to Cupid
before, not when he was offering himself without any strings attached.
"Sure you can," he heard himself say, although he sounded a lot less sure of
himself than he'd intended. "You just said there was nothing between you
and Dad."

"There's not," Strife answered, and Cupid could hear the regret in his
words. His cousin's emotions were carefully guarded once again, but for a
few seconds Cupid had felt exactly what Strife was feeling, and he knew he
wasn't imagining the longing in the kiss.

"Good. Then you can do whatever you want," Cupid said, reaching up to cover
the hand that was still pressed against his chest. He tangled his fingers
in Strife's and lifted both hands to his mouth, pressing his lips against
Strife's knuckles as he watched the younger god. "Unless there's somebody
else…?"

"No. Ya don't get it, Cupe. There's nobody else, I just can't."

He pulled his hand out of Cupid's and turned his back to his cousin, walking
as quickly as he could back toward Hades' place. As soon as he realized
that Strife was walking away from him Cupid started moving forward,
overtaking the other god and stepping into his path. "You want to, Strife.
I know you do, I felt it."

"I didn't say I didn't wanna, I said I can't." Strife tried to step around
him, but as soon as he moved Cupid did too, effectively cutting off his
escape route. "Cupe, just lemme go. Go back ta yer folks an' yer kid an'
yer adorin' fans an' forget this ever happened. It shouldn't take more'n a
coupla days."

"I don't want to forget it," Cupid answered. He reached out and caught
Strife's arm, gently pulling the other god closer. They both knew that if
Strife wanted to he could make Cupid let go of him, but Cupid was banking on
his suspicion that his cousin didn't want to forget it any more than he did.
All he had to go on were the few seconds of emotion he'd felt radiating
off the other man, but those few seconds of feeling had been strong enough
to let Cupid know that he wasn't alone in this.

"Cupe, please," Strife murmured unconvincingly, easily shaking his arm out
of Cupid's grip. "Ya don't know what yer doin'."

He would have laughed at that if Strife didn't look so miserable, but he was
too busy wondering why his cousin was turning him down to see the humor in
his words. This was what he did - he was Love, for Zeus' sake, they should
already be well past the talking stage by now. He'd never had to negotiate
an affair before, not when it involved him, anyway. If Strife was turning
down some mortal Cupid would just shoot him and that would be the end of it,
but he couldn't use an arrow to make someone fall for him.

"Of course I know what I'm doing, Strife. I'm Love." Okay, and he hadn't
meant to sound so annoyed, but he hadn't been expecting to have to talk
Strife into it. He wasn't really sure what exactly he'd been expecting, but
this definitely wasn't it. "If it's not because of Dad then what's the
problem?"

"Zeus, Cupe, Ares doesn't have anythin' ta do with it. Don't ya get it?
I'm stuck down here forever. I'm dead, Cupe, an' yer…yer about as alive as
it gets." He paused and looked Cupid up and down almost wistfully for a
moment before shaking his head and continuing. "Ya don't even like ta come
down here, I ain't gonna let ya get roped inta somethin' ya haven't thought
all the way through."

Strife was right about one thing; Cupid hadn't really thought the situation
through, not beyond making sure his father didn't have a claim on Strife,
anyway. He'd thought about what it would be like to kiss his friend, and he
knew he wanted Strife. An actual relationship hadn't really crossed his
mind, though, and now that Strife had brought it up he had to admit that he
wasn't sure what he wanted.

Still, the only way he was going to figure it out was to try it, and now
that he knew there was nothing standing in their way he wasn't about to take
no for an answer. "You want me, Strife. How long have you been hiding it
from me?"

When Strife shrugged and looked away Cupid took a step forward, gripping the
younger god's chin firmly and forcing him to meet Cupid's gaze. As soon as
their eyes met he knew the answer without having to hear it. His hand left
Strife's chin to trail through dark hair, the coolness of Strife's skin
strange against his own warm fingers. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Last time I was on Olympus things were different," Strife reminded him, his
voice tinged with just a hint of anger. "Ya got kinda wrapped up with
Psyche an' I figured I'd just be in the way. So I gave ya yer space, an'
then Callisto went nuts an' I woke up down here. I'm dead, Cupe. It
changes things."

"It doesn't have to," Cupid said, although he knew it wasn't true. If
Strife was still part of the Pantheon it would be so easy to see where their
feelings led them, but with his cousin stuck in the Underworld the best they
could hope for was occasional nights together when Cupid wasn't busy with
his duties or his son.

"Ya know it does." Strife's voice sounded softer now, but closer too,
almost as though it was buzzing right in Cupid's ear. He wasn't sure which
one of them had moved, but he was almost sure they were closer together than
they had been a few moments ago. He could feel the coolness radiating off
Strife, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine as he took another step
forward.

Part of him expected Strife to pull away, to come to his senses as soon as
he realized what Cupid was doing and tell him no again. When his cousin
stayed frozen in his grasp Cupid leaned forward, barely brushing his lips
across the other god's before he pulled back again. "Is that the reason you
can't? Because you're stuck down here?"

"That's the big one, yeah," Strife answered, confusion marring his features
as he stared back at Cupid. "Look, Cupe, ya still got a life an' all I got
is playin' pranks on the Titans an' waiting around for ya to show up. Ya
got everythin' back home, ya don't need me."

"You're wrong, Strife," Cupid said, pulling the other god close to whisper
the words against his skin. "If I had everything I wouldn't be here right
now."

He felt the shudder roll through the body pressed against his, and he
couldn't help smiling as Strife's hands found his hips and tightened
convulsively. He pulled back far enough to cover the younger god's mouth
with his again, swallowing the groan that escaped Strife's throat at the
contact. As soon as Strife's lips parted Cupid opened his own mouth to
taste the other god again, his arms wrapping possessively around Strife's
back to hold him close.

It never occurred to him to worry about who might see them; most of the dead
wouldn't care, and the few that might didn't really have anyone to tell. It
might make Strife's afterlife a little more difficult, but he didn't seem
worried about it. In fact, if the way Strife was moving against him was any
indication, there was a good possibility they wouldn't make it back to his
room in Hades' place before things got too far to stop. The last thing
Cupid wanted to do was have sex on the ground in the Underworld, though, so
he summoned up all of his self-control and wrenched his mouth away from
Strife's.

"We need…"

"Yeah," Strife answered before Cupid even got the rest of the words out.
"Come on."

Cupid managed a shaky nod that didn't matter since Strife wasn't looking at
him anyway. He'd never wished more fervently that his powers worked in
Hades' realm, but his uncle had always had a weird thing about the other
gods flexing their powers while they were in his territory. Once he got
across the Styx he couldn't do anything more impressive than fly, but it was
tempting to wrap his arms around Strife's waist and fly them back to Hades'
place.

He knew Strife would never let him forget it if he did, so he managed to
restrain himself until they got to the palace at the edge of the Elysian
Fields. When they reached the heavy wooden doors Strife glanced over his
shoulder, and Cupid took a deep breath and did his best to ignore the way
his heart flipped as soon as their eyes met. Less than a second later
Strife was leading him inside, letting the heavy door swing shut behind them
as Cupid reached out and caught his hand.

Strife led him down the short hallway to the row of disused guest chambers,
stopping at the door to the one Hades had set aside for Strife when he died.
He stopped with his hand on the latch and turned to look at Cupid again,
fear warring with lust in his stormy blue eyes. "Ya sure ya wanna go
through with this?"

"Positive," Cupid answered, leaning forward and pressing a hard kiss against
Strife's lips to illustrate his point. When he pulled away again Strife
nodded and fumbled with the latch, finally getting it open and leading Cupid
into his bedchamber.

The décor was fairly nondescript; lots of dark, heavy fabrics draped over
the bed and the windows, tapestries of various family events on the walls
and a wide bed at the center of the room. There was a table and chair in
one corner, and Strife's collection of broken weapon was strewn across the
table and along the floor against the wall. Cupid wasn't really interested
in the décor, though; he was far more interested in getting them both out of
their clothes before Strife thought of another reason they shouldn't be
doing this.

He didn't need to worry, though, because as soon as he looked at the other
god Strife moved toward him again, letting Cupid pull him close for another
demanding kiss. It had been a long time since Cupid felt this way with
anyone; the last year or so with Psyche had just felt like going through the
motions, and since then he really hadn't been interested. There were the
obligatory appearances at orgies, of course, but he'd gotten fairly good at
making himself blend in with the scenery with just a little practice. Not
that he didn't enjoy a good orgy, but he'd been married for over five years,
and if Love didn't take his marriage vows seriously he couldn't expect his
mortal worshippers not to follow his example.

But even before Psyche he couldn't remember a kiss as intense as this one.
Maybe it was because Strife had been hiding his feelings from Cupid for so
long, or maybe it was because they'd both been lonely for too long. Either
way he knew he didn't want it to end any time soon, and part of him couldn't
help wondering if he could find a way to make this feeling last forever.

He took hold of Strife's hips and backed the other god toward the bed,
pushing him gently onto the edge of the mattress and crawling over Strife to
settle on top of him. Strife's leathers were a bit of a mystery to him, and
since he couldn't just flash them out of the way he took his time running
his fingers over the smooth, cool leather, exploring the other god's mouth
with his tongue as he tried to figure out how to get Strife's clothes off.

By the time he finally found the closure hidden at the side of the outfit
Strife was squirming underneath him, rocking hard against Cupid and making
them both gasp with each thrust. His fingers refused to cooperate with him,
need making them tremble as he tried to work open the leather. Finally he
growled in frustration and pushed himself up far enough to look at Strife,
his scowl fading as soon as he registered the other god's surprised
expression. "You need some lower maintenance clothes. And people make fun
of my hair," he said, rolling his eyes when Strife smirked at him and pushed
against his chest.

"Lemme do it," Strife offered, letting Cupid roll off him before he sat up
and made quick work of the leather stretched across his chest. As soon as
Strife pulled his shirt off Cupid remembered he was still wearing his
clothes too, and he stood up long enough to hastily pull off the few strips
of leather covering the more sensitive parts of his anatomy. Somehow he
managed to get his boots unlaced and off, and by the time he climbed back
onto the bed again Strife was completely naked and stretched out against the
pillows.

"Zeus," Cupid muttered under his breath, swallowing hard as he took in the
sight of all that pale skin against the dark blue velvet of the bedspread.
And he'd never given much thought to the way Strife looked before, but now
that he was seeing all that wiry strength close up he knew he'd been
underestimating his cousin. "Uncle Hades really needs to get over his
control thing," he said, matching Strife's amused grin with one of his own.

"He probably wasn't expectin' this."

"Neither was I," Cupid answered, looking up from his exploration of Strife's
chest long enough to meet the other god's gaze. "But I'm glad I'm here."

Strife's hand landed on the back of his neck to pull him closer, cool skin
sliding against warm as Cupid stretched out on top of the younger god again.
"Me too, Cupe," Strife whispered against his neck, so soft that Cupid
almost missed it. He had a feeling he wasn't supposed to hear the whispered
confession, so he let it go and turned his attention back to tasting every
inch of Strife's skin that he could reach.

Strife's hand slid into his hair as Cupid's tongue moved down his throat to
dip into the hollow of his collarbone, a low moan and a slight tightening of
the fingers in his hair letting Cupid know that all Strife's doubts about
what they were doing were long forgotten. He grinned against the smooth
skin under his mouth, planting a soft kiss just above Strife's heart before
he continued his journey down the center of the other god's chest. And he
didn't care if he never got to use his powers again as long as he was the
one making Strife pant and squirm helplessly underneath him, searching
vainly for something to ease the ache building in the pit of his stomach.

He ignored the urging of Strife's hands in his hair, taking his time tasting
the other god's skin. When he reached Strife's stomach he paused and looked
up, his heart picking up speed when he took in the sight of Strife with his
lips parted and his head arched back against the pillows. Strife definitely
looked beautiful like this, no matter what anybody said about him. A surge
of fierce protectiveness Cupid had never felt before surged through his
whole body, and he had to force himself to relax before he shifted a little
lower and let out a hot breath against the head of Strife's cock.

The body underneath his thrust up automatically, so Cupid pressed a hand to
Strife's hips to hold him to the mattress. He smiled again at the
frustrated groan that escaped Strife's throat and wrapped his free hand
around the other god's erection, glancing up at Strife one more time before
he closed his mouth around the head of his cock.

As soon as he made contact Strife thrust against the hand holding him down,
seeking more of the wet heat surrounding him. Cupid obliged by taking
Strife as far down his throat as he could, working his throat around
Strife's cock until the younger god was babbling something Cupid couldn't
make out. He swallowed around Strife and pulled back almost all the way,
using his tongue to tease the other god before he swallowed him whole again.

By the time Strife finally lost control he was panting erratically, his
hands twisting in the bedspread so he wouldn't accidentally yank too hard on
Cupid's hair. Cupid swallowed around him one more time before he let Strife
slip out of his mouth and crawled back up the prone, boneless body
underneath him. He pushed Strife's legs a little further apart and
positioned himself between them, but as soon as he remembered he couldn't
just conjure up some oil at will he let out a muted curse and looked up at
Strife again.

"You don't have any oil lying around in here, do you?"

Strife blinked, confusion clouding his features for a moment before it
finally dawned on him what Cupid was asking for. "Yeah, over on the table."

Cupid nodded and pushed himself off the mattress long enough to cross the
room and grab the bottle sitting on the table. When he got back to the bed
and straddled the younger god's legs, raising one eyebrow as he held up the
bottle. "Why do you have this just lying around?"

"It's fer oiling the weapons, Cupe," Strife answered, and Cupid could tell
he was trying not to roll his eyes. "It's not that fancy stuff ya got all
over yer place that smells like roses."

"It's lavender," Cupid corrected him, a smirk turning up the corners of his
mouth when Strife squirmed underneath him.

"Whatevah. Hurry up."

He couldn't remember the last time he'd done this the long way, but in a way
he was kind of glad he couldn't use his powers to prepare them both. It
made everything last a little longer, anyway, and he kind of liked watching
Strife moan and push down on the fingers sliding in and out of him. When
three fingers slid easily inside Cupid stopped long enough to coat his own
cock with oil, wincing at the contact on his long-neglected cock. He set
the bottle of oil down on the floor next to the bed and nudged Strife's hip
until he rolled over onto his stomach, taking hold of the younger god's hips
and pulling him onto his knees.

Cupid took a deep breath to steady himself before he positioned himself at
the entrance to Strife's body, sliding in a few inches and then stopping as
he struggled to keep from losing control and embarrassing himself.

"Cupe, move," Strife groaned, pressing back against him and threatening to
make the god of Love come long before he was ready.

He took another deep breath and slid in a little further, a soft sigh
escaping his throat when Strife pressed back to pull him the rest of the way
in. It had been way too long since he'd done this, longer still since he'd
wanted it as much as he did right now. He couldn't remember ever wanting
something this much except maybe Psyche, and with her it had always been
more about the status of having a bride worthy of Love than it was about the
actual sex.

Not that he didn't love her, but the way he felt about her in the beginning
was a mixture of awe and tenderness and expectation. He'd known that she'd
make a good wife for him, someone his worshippers would adore. Strife, on
the other hand…he was everything Psyche wasn't. With Strife it was about
lust and need and animal attraction; he liked his cousin and he loved
spending time with Strife, but he'd never imagined until their first kiss
that Strife could make him feel so alive.

It didn't take long before he was thrusting wildly, Strife pushing back to
meet each thrust until finally Cupid tensed and came inside him. Long
moments later he realized he was still gripping Strife's hips hard enough to
leave marks, and if Strife was still alive he probably would have had ten
finger-shaped bruises already forming against pale skin. Slowly Cupid eased
out of him, swallowing a groan at the loss of contact and collapsing on the
bed next to the other god. He could feel Strife's eyes on him and he
reached out blindly, his fingers sliding into Strife's hair to pull him
forward for a slow, lazy kiss.

When they finally came up for air Strife stretched out next to him, his hand
resting against Cupid's chest so lightly that Cupid wasn't sure whether he
was imagining the touch or not. He let his fingers linger in Strife's hair,
stroking softly as he listened to the sound of their breathing. He wasn't
sure which of them fell asleep first, but he was almost certain that just as
he was drifting off he felt soft, cool lips brush across his cheek.


When Strife woke up he expected Cupid to be gone already. In fact, part of
him was almost hoping he’d wake up alone, because he wasn’t looking forward
to listening to Cupid blow him off. Sex was one thing; he could believe
that Cupid wanted him, but he knew it wasn’t going further than that. It
wasn’t like Cupid was going to fall in love with him after one night
together, and he wasn’t about to tell his cousin how deep his feelings
really ran. Cupid knowing that Strife had wanted him for awhile was one
thing, but Cupid knowing that Strife loved him…that just wasn’t going to
happen.

Besides, there was something about the whole night before that he couldn’t
stop thinking about, and now that his brain wasn’t addled with years of
pent-up longing the nagging doubt that had started the night before was even
stronger. He knew Cupid was lonely, and he would have been more than
willing to go along with offering his cousin whatever comfort he wanted. It
wasn’t something he was proud of, but he’d learned a long time ago that
sometimes taking what he could get was better than nothing at all. So he
would have gladly offered himself to Cupid if he thought it would help Cupid
feel better, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t why they’d ended up in bed
together.

No, he was pretty sure that none of this had much of anything to do with
him, and now that he was thinking clearly he could have kicked himself for
letting Cupid use him to settle a score with his father. It wasn’t even
that Cupid using him had hurt his feelings; what he was really worried about
was the latest battle of wills between Cupid and Ares. He’d always tried to
stay out of the middle of those arguments when he was still alive, and now
that he was dead he’d gotten himself stuck right in the center of the battle
without even realizing it.

He stifled a sigh and stood up carefully, holding his breath and moving as
slowly as possible so he wouldn’t wake Cupid before he was ready to deal
with him. He was hot and sticky and he had the strangest urge for a long,
hot bath, but he settled for waving a hand over his skin instead. A moment
later he was clean and dressed again, and he settled carefully on one of the
few chairs in the room and looked at the god still stretched out in his bed.

Watching Cupid sleep wasn’t what he wanted to be doing; what he really
wanted was to stand up and slip quietly out of the room, leaving Cupid to
come to his senses on his own. As long as he didn’t have to hear Cupid
justify showing up out of nowhere and seducing him it would be okay, they
could just go back to being friends and pretend last night had never
happened. It shouldn’t be that hard; they were both old enough to deal with
a one-night stand, and they both knew that talking about it wasn’t going to
make it any less awkward. Still, it would have been easier if Cupid had
just gone back to Olympus before Strife woke up.

He’d spent more time than he wanted to admit fantasizing about the wings
tucked along either side of Cupid’s body, and every time they fluttered
Strife’s heart skipped a beat. Eventually Cupid would wake up and the spell
would be broken, but part of Strife wouldn’t have minded if Cupid just
stayed asleep in his bed forever. Except that Ares would come looking for
him eventually, or he’d send somebody else to track down his son. Then
Strife would have to explain what Cupid was doing naked and stretched out in
his bed, and that wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have with anyone.

Sitting there torturing himself over what was going to happen when Cupid
woke up wasn't doing him any good, and he finally convinced himself to get
up and go find someplace to hide out until Cupid went home. He was almost
out of the room when he heard the rustling of fabric, and he flinched and
glanced over his shoulder just in time to watch Cupid sit up and blink at
him.

"Morning."

Okay, so Cupid didn't sound too broken up about waking up in Strife's bed
after all, but for all Strife knew he was still half asleep. "Hey," Strife
said, doing his best to ignore the sight of all that muscle flexing beneath
golden skin. "Ya sleep okay?"

"Yeah," Cupid answered. His voice was still heavy with sleep, and the sound
did interesting things to Strife's stomach. He had to look away when Cupid
let out a yawn and reached his arms over his head, arching into the stretch
and letting the sheet slip down around his hips in the process. Seeing
Cupid like that made Strife want to forget everything he'd just told himself
about why they had to forget this ever happened. In fact all he really
wanted to do was crawl back into bed and see if Cupid tasted as good as he
remembered, but he knew if he did he'd regret it.

"So ya probably wanna get back," he said, risking a quick glance at his
cousin just in time to watch Cupid lean back against the headboard.

"Mom's got Bliss," Cupid answered as though that was reason enough for him
not to worry about the time. "I could use a bath, though."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry," Strife said, waving his hand absently in Cupid's
direction.

For a second Cupid blinked down at his own chest, then he looked up again
and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the other god. "How'd you do that?"

"Hades gave 'em back ta me," Strife answered, a smirk tugging at the corners
of his mouth when he registered Cupid's expression. "I guess he felt sorry
fer me 'cause I'm stuck down here."

"You know, last night would have been a better time to tell me this," Cupid
said, but there was a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The
look was contagious, and before Strife knew it his smirk had blossomed into
a wide grin.

"Ya never asked. Besides, ya looked kinda cute fumblin' around like some
mortal."

"Very funny." He stuck his lip out in a pout that Strife had seen many
times in the past, but it had never looked quite as sexy as it did when
Cupid was sitting in the wreck of his bed. It was all he could do not to
cross the room and climb right back into bed with the other god, but there
was no way he was going to run the risk of offering himself to Cupid only to
find out that last night really had been a one-time thing.

As soon as the thought formed Cupid pushed the sheet off his lap, and Strife
ignored the way his heart fell and braced himself for Cupid to stand up and
start pulling his clothes back on. The moment never came, though; instead
Cupid folded his arms behind his head and sprawled his legs out in front of
him, raising one eyebrow at Strife. "So do you have someplace else to be or
what?"

He tried to tell himself that Cupid wasn't suggesting what it sounded like
he was suggesting, but Strife had been around enough in his few hundred
years of godhood to know what a come-on looked like. Granted, he didn't get
as many of them as some other gods, but he'd been on the receiving end of
enough seductions to recognize what Cupid was doing. Part of him was
screaming to give in, trying to out-shout every rational voice in his head
telling him that he couldn't go anywhere near that bed until he found out
exactly what Cupid was up to.

He almost gave in to the much louder voice that wanted to stop thinking and
just go for it, but in the end he knew he had to ask at least one question.
He wasn't at all sure he wanted to hear the answer, but he knew he had to
ask. "Cupe," he began, swallowing hard when the body on the bed stretched
in what could only be described as a languid manner, "what're ya doin' here?
I mean I know what yer gettin' at, but why'd ya show up in the first
place?"

The self-satisfied expression on the fair god's face faded slowly into a
mixture of confusion and frustration, but he didn't make any move to get up
or even cover himself. Instead he stared at Strife, chewing his lower lip
as though he was contemplating the question. Finally he sat up and drew his
legs up, resting his elbows on the tops of his knees and folding his hands
together in front of him. "I told you last night. I wanted to see if I was
crazy or if there was anything between us."

"No ya didn't."

"I didn't," Cupid repeated flatly, but it was obvious from his expression
that the words were more of a challenge than a question. "Well if you
already know then why are you asking me?"

"Look, Cupe, don't get me wrong. I mean I wanted ya, I've wanted ya fer a
long time. But the first thing ya asked when ya got here was whether or not
I was sleepin' with yer dad. If this is all some crazy scheme ta get one up
on him I can deal with it, but I wanna know if I'm just part a some plan."

"Zeus, Strife, do you think I'd really use you like that?" Cupid asked, but
as soon as the words escaped his throat Strife could tell he already knew
the answer. It wasn't like it would be the first time somebody had used
him; he was used to it, they were all gods and it more or less went with the
territory. It would mark the first time he'd ever let anybody get close
enough to him to know they'd hurt him, but so far Cupid hadn't figured out
how deep his feelings went. As long as Strife could keep most of that to
himself they could get out of this okay; at least he was pretty sure they
could.

"It ain't a big deal," he heard himself say. "I mean ya got yer reasons an'
all. I was just wonderin'." And Tartarus, he hoped he didn't sound as
pathetic as he felt. He could just see Cupid back up in Olympus, laughing
with all the other golden, beautiful gods like Apollo and Aphrodite and even
Hermes about what a pathetic sight Strife made when he was grasping for a
little affection. He was dead, but he was still House of War and he had an
image to protect.

"Strife."

The sound of his name in that low, rich voice made him look up, and he
realized for the first time that he was staring at a point on the floor
somewhere in front of his feet. "Yeah?"

When he met Cupid's gaze again the blond god stood up, crossing the stone
floor in a few long strides and stopping in front of the other god. His
wings were stretched out behind him and Strife was overcome with the urge to
reach out and touch them, but he forced his twitching fingers into fists and
held them resolutely at his sides. It was distracting enough to have a
naked love god invading his personal space, he couldn't make it worse by
groping Cupid's wings without permission.

Evidently Cupid didn't have the same personal boundaries as Strife, though,
because as soon as he stopped in front of the younger god he reached out,
his fingers gliding along the line of Strife's jaw and stopping just under
his chin. He tilted Strife's face up carefully, waiting until his cousin
met his gaze before he spoke again. "I do have my reasons," he said, his
breath hitting Strife's cheek and sending an involuntary shiver down the
smaller god's spine, "but they don't have anything to do with Ares."

~

Cupid was good at his job; he'd been doing it for a long time now, and he'd
always figured he knew just about everything there was to know about
passion. He understood the giddy rush of first love; he knew what
infatuation felt like; he'd watched the crushing heartache of puppy love
snuffed out by cruel reality. He'd felt the fires of passion build between
mortals and gods alike, and he'd orchestrated more love matches than he
could remember over the hundreds of years he'd been in existence.

All of that meant that he should be able to stand in front of his cousin and
read in the other god's eyes exactly what he was thinking, but when he
tilted Strife's face up to meet his there was no hint of what Strife was
feeling. He could see that Strife was holding back whatever emotions were
whirling around inside of him, but he couldn't guess what they were. He
knew Strife was having doubts about what had happened between them, and just
for a second the night before he'd felt the intensity with which Strife
wanted him.

Doubt was natural, it was all a part of a new relationship and Cupid knew
how to deal with it. He could deal with fear too, uncertainty was no
problem and inexperience…well, he didn't have to worry about that with
Strife. It wasn't like his cousin was some blushing virgin; he'd been
around for a long time, long enough to know what he liked and how to ask for
it. So Cupid wasn't exactly sure what the problem was, but he had a feeling
it had something to do with his father.

Even the name 'Ares' was starting to annoy him, because it seemed like no
matter what Cupid did lately his father was right in the middle of it. He
didn't even have to be in the room and his presence threatened to ruin
everything. Cupid wasn't about to let that happen; not if he could help it,
anyway. He was still waiting for Strife to say something, to answer him one
way or the other so Cupid would know what to say next. He knew what he
wanted to do; he wanted to lean forward and kiss the other god, to silence
whatever words were on the tip of his cousin's tongue and spend the next
couple hours making them both forget about the world outside the four walls
surrounding them.

The urge to kiss Strife was so strong that Cupid found himself leaning
forward, his lips just brushing the softness of the younger god's mouth
before a pair of slender hands flattened against his chest and pushed him
away. He didn't go far, just a few inches away from the warmth of Strife's
body. It was a few inches too far, though, and he frowned in confusion as
he searched Strife's eyes for the answer to a question he hadn't asked yet.

"We can't do this again, Cupe," Strife said, but he didn't sound like he
believed that any more than Cupid did. "Not that I didn't like it the first
time, but yer not thinkin' straight. Ya can't be, Cupe, not when ya show up
askin' a bunch a questions about Unc an' then act like ya don't know what
I'm talkin' about."

It was hard to hold in the frustrated sigh just begging to escape his
throat, but somehow Cupid managed to hold it in. His thumb grazed Strife's
bottom lip again, slipping into the moist warmth of his cousin's mouth for a
moment before he pulled his hand away from Strife's jaw. "You're wrong," he
said, his voice barely a murmur as he let his fingers wander across Strife's
leather-clad shoulder and down his chest. "I know what I said last night,
but it was just because I thought there was something going on between you
and Dad. I was jealous and I overreacted, but that doesn't mean that what
happened was a mistake."

"Yer jealous. Of me an' Unc?"

Cupid shrugged sheepishly and looked down at his fingers where they splayed
across Strife's chest. "Well, yeah. Dad figured out that I was interested
and told me to stay away from you, and I guess I got a little mad. But I
didn't kiss you just to piss him off, Strife, I swear."

He looked up again, his expression hopeful as he met Strife's gaze. He
hadn't thought about what would happen when they woke up together; after
their first kiss he hadn't thought about much beyond getting both of them
out of their clothes, but now that he heard himself say it out loud the
whole situation sounded pretty ridiculous. Judging from Strife's expression
he thought so too, but Cupid couldn't tell whether he was getting ready to
laugh or let Cupid get back to kissing him.

"I don't get it. Why would Unc tell ya ta steer clear a me? What would he
care what I do?"

"I don't know, that's why I figured…well, you know. I mean why else would
he freak out?"

"I dunno," Strife said, his mouth curving into a frown as he looked up at
Cupid again. "But me an' Unc? He never even looked at me funny, there's no
way."

"Are you sure? I mean it's not like Dad really goes around announcing when
he's got a thing for somebody." Cupid's stomach clenched at the thought of
his father harboring some secret crush on Strife, a familiar surge of
jealousy rushing through him to pool at the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah, but he doesn't exactly have a problem tellin' somebody when he wants
somethin' from 'em either," Strife argued reasonably, raising one eyebrow
when Cupid's hand flexed a little too tightly against the leather covering
his chest. "Cupe? Ya alright?"

"Yeah, I just…" He trailed off and took a deep breath, forcing his fingers
to relax enough to pull his hand away from Strife's chest. "Can we not talk
about my dad anymore right now? I mean shouldn't we be talking about
whether or not I should be getting dressed?"

Strife blinked and looked down, his blue eyes opening a little wider as he
realized Cupid was still standing in front of him stark naked. When he
looked up again his face was a little pinker than usual, and he murmured
something about timing that Cupid didn't quite catch.

"What was that?"

"Nothin'," Strife answered, his throat moving convulsively as he looked up
at Cupid again. "Do ya wanna get dressed?"

"Not particularly," Cupid answered, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his
mouth as he closed the distance between them and slid an arm around Strife's
waist. "I wouldn't mind if you were a little less dressed, though."

The words had barely made it past his lips before Strife's clothes were
gone, and before Cupid knew it he was on the bed again, his weight on his
elbows as Strife kneeled over him. "Show-off."

The younger god just grinned and leaned forward, opening his mouth against
Cupid's neck and tracing a pattern on the smooth skin with his tongue.
Cupid bucked up instinctively, spreading his wings behind him before he
lowered himself to the mattress and pulled Strife down with him. The
suction on his neck never let up, and he tightened his arms around the
smaller god's waist to hold him in place as Strife marked him. He knew it
wouldn't last; his skin would heal itself before the day was up, but at
least he'd have a reminder of their first night together for a little while.

He hoped it would be the first of many nights; he'd expected to enjoy
spending time with Strife, but he hadn't expected sleeping with him to feel
so intense. It was different than anything he'd ever felt before - maybe
Strife wasn't the most skilled partner he'd ever had, but he was passionate
and eager and hotter than Cupid had ever given him credit for. And it was
nice to be with somebody who didn't make a big deal out of the fact that he
was Love; with Strife he could just be himself, and he never once worried
that his cousin was disappointed that he wasn’t putting on some show.

Now that he knew Strife still had his powers he thought about asking the
other god to conjure up some oil, but before he voiced the question he
thought better of it and spread his wings enough to push himself off the
mattress. The movement caught Strife by surprise and Cupid grinned at the
shocked expression on his cousin's face, using his body to pin Strife neatly
to the mattress. He rocked his hips experimentally, the movement rewarded
with a breathy moan from Strife. And there was a sound he was pretty sure
he'd never get tired of hearing, especially when he knew that he was the one
rendering Strife helpless with need.

He leaned forward for another slow, thorough kiss before he pushed himself
up far enough to reach for the oil he'd left on the floor. It had been a
long time since he'd bothered to do this the mortal way, but now that he'd
tried it again he remembered how good it could be to let his hands wander
and watch the affect each touch had on his lover. It made him wonder when
he'd fallen into just going through the motions in his own sex life; he
couldn't really be a very effective God of Love if he never felt anything,
and watching Strife moan and arch up into his touch reminded him of just how
much he'd been missing.

All that had ended the night before when he'd kissed Strife for the first
time, and now that he remembered what it could be like he wasn't about to
let it go again. Not unless Strife told him to get lost, anyway, and
judging by the noises he was making Cupid was pretty sure that wasn't going
to happen any time soon. He smiled to himself and leaned forward again,
capturing the younger god's lips with his own as he slid inside Strife for
the second time.

The connection was even more intense now that they weren't in a hurry, and
he set such a slow, deliberate pace that they were both nearly sobbing with
the need for release when Cupid finally let go and came. Somehow he managed
not to collapse from the intensity of his orgasm, holding still until the
last shock wave of pleasure coursed through him. When he stopped shaking he
lifted himself enough to reach between them, taking hold of Strife's
erection and running his thumb under the sensitive head.

Strife groaned and arched into the touch, his muscles twitching around the
cock still buried inside him and sending fresh shivers up the blond god's
spine. Even the almost-pain on his too sensitive flesh felt good, and Cupid
closed his fist a little more tightly around Strife. A few strokes later
Strife tensed and coated Cupid's fingers and his own stomach with liquid
heat, his fingers flexing just a little too hard against Cupid's shoulders.
The other god didn't even notice the pressure as he covered Strife's face
with soft kisses, murmuring soothing words that he was sure didn't make any
sense against pale skin.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed that way, but finally Strife went still
and Cupid pushed himself up carefully to watch the other god sleep. He was
pretty sure that sleep was more a force of habit for Strife than anything,
because from everything he'd heard about the Underworld the dead didn't
require sleep. Not that gods really needed to sleep in the same way that
mortals did, but they needed time to regenerate the energy they spent
granting prayers all day. The dead didn't have that problem, but Strife
looked so peaceful that Cupid didn't want to wake him.

He didn't want to leave without saying goodbye, either, so he settled back
against the pillow and slid one arm possessively around his cousin's waist.
Once he was settled against Strife he closed his eyes, listening to the
sound of his own breathing as he focused on the warmth emanating from
Strife's skin. He still wasn't sure exactly what they were doing, but they
had plenty of time to talk about it when they woke up tangled together
again. He wasn't sure what he wanted from Strife and he was even less sure
of what Strife wanted from him, but as long as there was no one standing in
their way he knew they'd figure it out.


Eventually Cupid forced himself to leave Strife and go back to his duties on
Olympus. It was harder than he'd expected to tear himself away, but he had
petitions to hear and he couldn't just abandon Bliss with his mother all
day. Still, it had taken him a lot longer than it probably should have to
make himself walk out the door, and 'one more kiss' had turned into
countless kisses and a lot of touching before he finally managed to remember
that he was supposed to be on his way back to Olympus.

It was on his mind all morning; through all the petitions he heard and all
the prayers he granted he couldn't stop thinking about Strife, picturing the
way he smiled or remembering the way his skin felt under Cupid's hands.
Every time he remembered his cousin's mischievous smirk when he told Cupid
that Hades had given him back his powers Cupid let out a surprised laugh,
and he couldn't even make himself care about the strange looks he was
getting from everyone around him.

It was possible that all the priestesses at his temple in Corinth thought
he'd lost his mind, and he was pretty sure a few of his worshippers were
wondering what had happened to him as well. Not that he could blame them,
really, especially after the way he'd been moping around for the past few
months. The sudden change of demeanor would throw off anyone, but no matter
how hard he tried to school his features into something resembling a serious
expression he couldn't do it.

He'd get almost there, somehow manage to push all thoughts of Strife out of
his head and concentrate on whatever problem the petitioner before him was
rambling on about. He even managed serious for a second or two a few times,
but every time he thought he'd gotten it out of his system he'd remember
something Strife had said or done and go right back to grinning like a fool.

Finally he gave up trying to hold in his emotions and decided to let them
all wonder what had gotten into him. He was Love, after all, and his
petitioners expected him to be happy and cheerful and generally un-scary, so
chances were no one would even notice if he spent his day grinning every
time he remembered that cute little sound Strife made whenever he...

"You’re doing it again."

"What?" Cupid snapped, his smile fading as his mother’s voice jolted him
back to reality.

"Smiling."

Okay, so almost everyone would probably be willing to let it slide, but his
mother was a different story. He'd hoped he could sneak into her temple and
drop off the scrolls he had for her without being noticed, but of course it
hadn't worked that way. Dite, for all her flaky behavior, seemed to have an
uncanny ability to sense when he was up to something and wear him down until
he finally spilled the whole truth. "So I’m not allowed to smile now?"

Dite rolled her eyes and planted delicate hands on her hips, cocking her
head to the side to narrow her eyes suspiciously at her son. "It’s not that
you can’t, it’s just that you haven’t. In ages, Cupid. So it seems a
little strange that suddenly you can’t seem to wipe that silly grin off your
face."

It was hard to be offended by the accusation when he knew exactly how long
he’d been moping around. Maybe his worshippers and even his priestesses
wouldn’t notice that he was suddenly a little more cheerful than usual, but
he should have known he wouldn’t be able to get past his own mother. "So I
cheered up," he answered, his grin broadening a little when she frowned at
him. "Listen, can you watch Bliss again tonight?"

"That depends."

"On what?" he asked, his smile faltering a little when she took a few steps
toward him.

"On why you want me to take him two nights in a row," she answered, crossing
her arms over her chest as she stopped in front of him. For a long moment
she stared at him without saying anything, and he’d begun to contemplate how
much more suspicious she’d get if he just disappeared when suddenly she
reached out and took hold of his chin. "What is that?"

"What?" he asked, twisting his neck in vain to try to pull his face out of
her grip. It was no use; the fingers of her free hand were already ghosting
across his skin, her perfect forehead wrinkled in concentration as she
peered at his neck.

"That mark. It looks like a...is that a bruise?"

"What? No," Cupid said, taking a step backwards and clamping a hand down
over the spot on his neck that he imagined was still shaped something like
Strife’s mouth. "It’s probably just some dirt or something."

And okay, that was probably the wrong thing to say, because Dite didn’t look
like she was buying it. In fact she looked even more suspicious now, and he
found himself instinctively taking another step backwards. "That’s not
dirt, Cupid. I know a bruise when I see one. What happened? Don’t tell me
you’ve been fighting with those brothers of yours again."

"No, I haven’t been anywhere near them." That much, at least, was the
truth, but he had a sinking feeling he wasn’t getting out of this
conversation without admitting at least some of the truth about him and
Strife. He should have just healed himself that morning after he left the
Underworld, but at the time he’d liked the idea of having a reminder of
their first night together, and eventually he’d just forgotten that the mark
was still there. He was sure it was mostly gone by now, but without a
mirror he couldn’t tell how incriminating it looked.

If he used his powers to heal himself now his mother would sense them, and
it was obvious from the way she was staring at him that she wasn’t about to
let him get away without explaining his weird behavior. "Alright," he
finally said, sighing dramatically and letting his hand fall away from his
neck, "if you really want to know I need you to watch Bliss so I can go see
Strife."

"Strife again? I swear, between you and Ares, he’s like the most popular
dead guy on Olympus. I thought you said there was nothing going on between
you two."

He didn’t bother to answer; he could tell by the way she was looking at him
that she was already starting to put two and two together, and even if he
tried to explain to her what had happened she wouldn’t listen. He had no
idea whether she’d care if he was sleeping with Strife, but if she knew it
wouldn’t be long before the rest of Olympus did too.

"There is something going on, isn’t there? Does Ares know about this?"

"No. It’s none of his business anyway."

The sound of her laughter let him know exactly what she thought of that
idea; there weren’t a lot of secrets on Olympus, after all, and the few gods
that managed to keep them where the ones that no one was crazy or stupid
enough to cross. Cupid had never fallen into the particularly threatening
category, although he was starting to think he might qualify as one of the
less than sane members of the family.

"Well it’s not," he added, the good mood he'd been riding all day nearly
obliterated as reality finally began to creep back into his consciousness.
"It’s not like he had any claim on Strife or anything, I don’t get what his
problem is."

"I don't think I want to be in the room when you say that to his face," she
said, leaning forward to peer at the mark on his neck again. "Have you been
walking around with that thing on you all day? Gross."

He clapped his hand over his neck again, frowning and backing away from her.
"I forgot about it," he muttered, stopping just short of rolling his eyes
at his own inability to lie. If Strife had seen him he would have laughed
and told Cupid how pathetic he was, but even that thought didn't make him
feel much better. He pressed his fingers against the bruise, releasing just
enough power to heal the faint mark before he pulled his hand away again.
"What's so gross about it, anyway? It was almost gone already."

If you want to wander around looking like a mortal that's your problem."
She rolled her eyes when he made a face at her, then shook her head and let
out a dramatic sigh. "So you and Strife? I mean no offense, Cupie, but
what's that about?"

"What's wrong with Strife?" he snapped, surprising both of them with the
intensity of his tone. He took a deep breath and did his best to rein in
his temper, folding his arms over his chest and forcing himself to meet her
gaze. "I mean why not? We've been friends forever, and he knows me better
than almost anybody. Besides, he seems kind of lonely down at Hades' place
all by himself."

"It's the Underworld, Cupie, he's supposed to be lonely. Besides, I thought
the dead gave you the creeps."

"Strife's not like that," he answered, but as soon as the words escaped his
lips he realized for the first time that Strife was exactly like that. It
didn't matter whether or not Hades had given him back his powers, he was
still dead. Just because he seemed the same as he always had on Olympus
didn't mean that he was. "It just happened, I can't explain it."

"You're gonna have to when Ares gets a hold of you. He's still all bent out
of shape about you hanging around Strife so much. I haven't figured out why
he cares yet, but you know how he is when he gets an idea in his head."

"Yeah, well, it's his fault Strife's stuck down there in the first place."
He scowled at that thought, his annoyance with his father creeping up a
notch or two as he realized that Ares was likely to make things difficult
for him. And it wasn't fair, because all he was doing was trying to have a
little fun, and it wasn't like he was forcing Strife to go along with him.
This wasn't like when Strife was still a kid and Cupid would talk him into
doing dumb, risky things just for a laugh; they were adults now, and they
were friends besides. So whatever happened between them was their business,
and he didn't see what Ares had to do with it. "Look, can you watch Bliss
or not?"

"Do you know what you're getting into?"

He rolled his eyes and looked away, closing his eyes for a moment until his
temper died down a little. "Yes," he finally ground out, forcing himself to
meet her gaze again. "It's between me and Strife, nobody else. No matter
who thinks they can tell me how to live my life."

"If you're sure. I mean I don't really see it, but hey, if you've got a
thing for him that's your problem. Just make sure you pick Bliss up early
tomorrow, I've got a ton of things to do and Heph's working on some big job
for your dad."

"Thanks, Mom." His grin returned then, and he closed the distance between
them to drop a kiss on her cheek. Before she could answer he was gone, only
to reappear a moment later. He paused long enough to thrust a squirming
bundle of godling at her, grinning at her shocked expression. "I'll be back
bright and early, I promise."

With that he was gone again, leaving Dite to stare down at her grandson.
"Your daddy's gone crazy, hon," she said, patting the mop of golden curls
and then wrinkling her dainty nose when she encountered something sticky.
"And he hasn't given you a bath."

~

It took about fifteen minutes after Cupid finally left for Strife to start
worrying. They weren't even twenty-four hours into this new…thing, and
already he was wondering what he'd been thinking. He didn't even know what
to call it, because it definitely wasn't a relationship. It was just
a…thing, and eventually Cupid was going to get sick of whatever-it-was, and
then Strife was going to be right back where he started.

Only worse, because he wouldn't even have Cupid as a friend anymore. And he
was so much more stupid than he'd ever imagined, because if he'd just
stopped to think about this last night he would have realized that this
could never work. There was no way Cupid was going to be able to deal with
dating...well, a dead guy. He could barely stand coming down to visit every
few weeks, so there was no way he was going to start coming around
regularly, not even for sex.

Because the truth was that Cupid didn't need him for sex. He didn't need
Strife for anything, because anything Strife could offer Cupid could get
better and faster up in his own world. He had all of Olympus and the whole
of Greece just praying for him to notice them, so there was no reason for
him to come around a place he didn't even like just to see Strife.

It had been so easy to believe Cupid last night, though, and then this
morning when he said all those things about wanting to see if there was
really something between them. It had been the easiest thing in the world
to give in to that kind of seduction, but Strife should have known better,
because the fact was that Cupid was a professional. This was what he did,
and he didn't need a reason. Maybe he just felt sorry for Strife being
stuck down in the Underworld all alone, or maybe he really was locked in
some weird test of wills with Ares and Strife was just a pawn.

He'd been trying not to think about that possibility, though, because every
time the thought crossed his mind he felt vaguely nauseous. That alone was
a pretty neat trick considering the dead didn't get sick, but he was
starting to think that maybe Cupid was part of his own tailor-made Tartarus.
There would be nothing better to torture him with, after all, and if
somebody had found out how Strife felt about Cupid there was no reason they
wouldn't use it against him. He knew how the Underworld worked, and he knew
he wasn't immune from suffering just because he got along okay with Hades.

He wanted to believe that Cupid really did have some kind of affection for
him; they'd been friends for a long time, after all, and even though he knew
Cupid wasn't going to fall for him it was possible that he really did like
Strife. Even if he was just a distraction for his cousin it would be better
than pity, or the even more depressing possibility that last night was all
part of some elaborate fantasy designed to torture him.

It had felt real, though, and every time he started to wonder he held onto
that feeling as tightly as he could. He didn't even know when he'd see
Cupid again; they hadn't really said much about what was happening between
them, and for all he knew Cupid wouldn't come around again for another
month. It was possible that when he did finally show up that he'd just
pretend the whole thing had never happened, and a few hours into the day
Strife was so tired from trying to brace himself for all the possibilities
that he gave up trying to get anything done.

Not that there was much for him to do now; he'd never given it much thought
when he was still immortal, but as it turned out being dead was pretty
boring. In fact there was nothing for him to do but hang around and try not
to wonder what Cupid was doing, and that was something not even torturing
the Titans could take his mind off. Every time he tried to push Cupid out
of his mind he'd remember something else his cousin had done the night
before, some touch or a kiss placed in just the right spot. He could almost
feel Cupid's hands still on him, but each memory was followed by the
knowledge that he'd probably never feel Cupid's hands on him again.

He'd given up hours ago trying to convince himself that it was for the best,
and now he was just doing everything he could not to start wishing for
something that wasn't going to happen. Cupid wasn't coming back, not today
and possibly not ever. And the weird part was that Strife wouldn't really
blame him if he didn't, because they both knew they never should have
started something they couldn't finish in the first place. What he really
wanted to do was just stop thinking for awhile, but he couldn't even lock
himself in his room and go to sleep. Sleep wasn't the same now that he was
dead; it was more like he just stopped being at all, and it was still
disconcerting enough that he didn't do it any more than he could help it.

He didn't even dream anymore, and that was something he never would have
thought he'd miss. He did miss it, though; well, he missed some of his
dreams, anyway, especially the ones about Cupid. Only now he'd had the real
thing, and he wasn't even sure which one he liked better. If he thought for
a second he'd get to keep the real thing he'd choose it in a heartbeat, but
now that he did know what it was like to be with the real Cupid he'd never
be able to conjure up his perfect dream Cupid again.

Hours after Cupid left the same thoughts were still chasing themselves
around in his mind, and he was convinced that it was all some elaborate form
of torture. He was concentrating so hard on not thinking about it that he
nearly missed the faint tug on his consciousness, but when he felt the pull
again he focused long enough to realize that Cupid was trying to figure out
where he was. He hadn't been expecting the torture to start up again so
soon, and he wasn't sure he could take any more today. It wouldn't do him
any good to ignore Cupid and hope he went away, though; his cousin knew he
was here somewhere, and if he wanted to he'd track Strife down eventually.

He forced his legs to carry him in the direction of the other god's energy,
his footsteps slowing as he finally caught sight of Cupid walking toward
him. Strife had never seen his cousin wearing such a sinister grin, and he
was a little surprised that the god he'd always thought of as kind of sweet
was enjoying his role in Strife's torture so much. Still, he was Ares' son,
so it wasn't really all that surprising. He stopped walking and waited for
Cupid to reach him, fists clenched tightly at his sides as he watched the
blond god close the distance between them.

"I figured it out," he said as soon as Cupid stopped in front of him. He
had a feeling Cupid had been about to say something, but it was just as well
that Strife had beaten him to it. This was the best way to handle it, after
all; he'd worked for Ares long enough to know that the best way to deal with
an enemy was to know their battle plan. "I guess ya got yer orders or
whatevah, but now that I'm onta ya they're just gonna hafta figure out
somethin' else."

"What are you talking about?" And okay, so the big brown eyes Strife had
spent way too much time thinking about really did look confused, but that
didn't mean anything. He'd seen Cupid fake innocent a million times with
his parents when they were kids.

"I'm talkin' 'bout this." He gestured wildly between them, his fingers
brushing Cupid's skin when he swayed a little too close to the other god.
"You, me, last night? I know what yer up ta, Cupe, and I gotta admit it was
a pretty good plan. I mighta thought a it myself, if I was plannin' on
torturin' me, anyway."

"Torturing...Strife, what are you talking about?" Cupid repeated, his
perfect forehead furrowing as he reached out and caught the hand that had
collided with his chest. "What plan? And why would I want to torture you?"

"I know it ain't yer plan," Strife answered. It was lucky that he didn't
have to breathe, because if he depended on oxygen he would have been
tripping over his own words already. "I mean it's not like I was such a
saint when I was still alive, so I can see the whole punishment thing. Like
my own personal Tartarus, right? I didn't expect ya ta be a part a that,
but here ya are, so ya must be the torture."

"So last night...you're saying that was torture for you? And this morning?
Was that torture too?"

"No...I mean yeah...I mean...come on, Cupe, ya know what I mean. Yer gonna
disappear any minute now and then the joke's on me, right? Or are ya
plannin' ta draw it out fer awhile? A week or so and then yer gone, is that
it?"

Now he looked confused and kind of mad, but Strife was too busy trying to
figure out how long he had before Cupid ditched him to notice his cousin's
expression. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, because he'd managed to
convince himself that Cupid had been putting on an act. It was the only
explanation that made sense; anything else was way too hard to believe.

"When did our whole family go crazy?" Cupid muttered, more to himself than
to Strife. "First Dad loses it, then Mom starts acting weird, and now you.
What in Tartarus is going on around here?"

Okay, so he wasn't supposed to say *that*. He wasn't supposed to look so
lost, either, and suddenly Strife wasn't sure that he'd been right about
Cupid being part of his eternal punishment. "So ya mean yer not just down
here ta make sure I know what I'm missin'?"

"What you're...Strife, I told you why I came down here last night. Don't
you remember?"

"Sure I remember, Cupe, but ya weren't makin' a whole lot a sense," Strife
answered. He was still having trouble believing that Cupid really wanted
him, but if Cupid wasn't trying to torture him then there was no other
reason besides pity. "Wait. This isn't 'cause ya feel sorry fer me, is
it?"

"No." Cupid took a deep breath and Strife could tell he was trying to keep
his cool, but he was too confused to worry about what would happen if he
pushed his cousin too far. He had his powers and Cupid didn't, but he
wasn't allowed to use them against another god, and it was possible Cupid
could take him in a fair fight. That possibility didn't dawn on him,
though, and neither did the possibility that Cupid might have decided in the
past few minutes that he'd lost his mind.

"Good," he said, taking a step backwards only to realize that Cupid was
still holding onto his wrist. He looked down at the hand wrapped firmly
around him, swallowing an involuntary shudder before he looked back up at
the other god again. "So ya wanna tell me again what yer doin' here?"

"Just as soon as you tell me why you think that having sex with me counts as
some kind of torture."

Strife opened his mouth and then closed it again, words failing him as it
sank in that he really had implied that. He hadn’t meant to, but now that
he had there was no way he'd be able to talk his way around it. Cupid
wouldn't accept less than the truth, and if he told his cousin how he felt
about him he might lose whatever was happening between them anyway. "Cupe,"
he began, steeling himself against a rush of fear, "I think we need ta
talk."



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All day long all Cupid had been able to think about was the next time he'd
see Strife. He'd spent half the day daydreaming about touching that pale
skin again, pressing his mouth against those cool lips and feeling how much
Strife wanted him in the curl of fingers in his hair. He wanted to know if
it was just his imagination or if Strife's body really did fit perfectly
against his; to test the curve of thin, graceful limbs around his own.

Now that he was actually standing in front of Strife again he felt vaguely
nauseous, which would have been alarming all on its own if he could focus
long enough to worry about it. Gods didn't really get sick, strictly
speaking, so the fact that he felt as close to sick as he ever had should
have bothered him. Just half an hour ago he'd been practically crawling out
of his own skin in anticipation of holding Strife in his arms again, but now
he couldn't even touch him.

That alone was physically painful, but he wasn't about to humiliate himself
anymore by reaching for Strife and being pushed away. He knew his cousin
wouldn't be cruel about it, but it would be a rejection nonetheless and
Cupid wasn't sure what to do with rejection. Strife was the most
complicated person he'd ever found himself involved with; only he wasn't
even sure they were involved, because so far all they'd had was one night
together that Strife seemed to regret.

He’d followed Strife back to Hades’ place without saying another word, his
jaw set in a firm line as they walked down the hall to Strife’s room. It
took every ounce of strength he had not to react to the fact that they were
alone; every memory from the last time he was in this room came rushing back
to him, from the way Strife felt under him to the look in the other god’s
eyes when Cupid woke up in his bed.

“Look, Cupe,” Strife began, kicking the door shut behind him before he made
his way a little further into the room, “what I said before…I didn’t mean it
the way it sounded.”

“So it’s not torture to be around me?” He didn’t really mean to sound
bitter, but Strife winced anyway and Cupid instantly felt guilty. There was
no reason for him to feel guilty; he had a right to be insulted, after all,
but he couldn’t quite ignore the nagging feeling that Strife wouldn’t say
something deliberately to hurt him.

“Course it’s not,” Strife answered. “We been friends fer a long time,
right?”

“That’s not the same and you know it.”

Something like a sigh escaped Strife’s throat, his shoulders falling a
little at Cupid’s stony expression. He knew he was making this harder than
it had to be; he could just let Strife take it back, pretend he never said
it and get on with their relationship. It wouldn’t be the same, though, not
after Cupid had spent the entire day feeling better than he had in ages. He
wasn’t sure what was happening with Strife, but he was really happy for the
first time in a long time and if Strife didn’t feel the same way then it
would ruin everything. “Look, Strife, just tell me how you feel.”

“How I feel.”

“Yeah. About me. About us. Do you want this, or were you just going along
with it because you thought you had to?”

“Are ya kidding? How could I not want ya, Cupe? I mean…look at ya.”

Strife gestured vaguely in Cupid’s direction, his eyes wide as they wandered
over the other god’s form. Cupid was used to people looking at him; so used
to it that he’d never noticed the hunger in Strife’s expression. Now that
he recognized it he knew he’d seen it before, and he couldn’t help wondering
how long he’d missed what was standing right in front of him. “How long?”

“What?”

“I asked you last night and you never answered. How long have you wanted
me?”

“I dunno exactly.” Strife looked away, and Cupid was sure if he was still
alive he’d be blushing. He knew he should feel bad for embarrassing his
cousin, but he was too caught up in the idea of Strife harboring a secret
crush on him to worry about how he was making the other god feel. “At first
it was just ‘cause yer older an’ ya always seemed so cool. Everybody wanted
ta be near ya, an’ ya let me follow ya around Olympus. Then I got older an’
I started noticin’ *why* everybody wanted ta be around ya all the time.”

“So…you’ve always felt this way?” Cupid asked, all the anger he’d felt a few
moments ago draining out of him. All he could think about now was the fact
that Strife had spent his whole life hiding his feelings from Cupid. The
thought had never even occurred to him until a few days ago, and it turned
out that he could have had Strife any time he wanted. “Why didn’t you ever
say anything?”

“Ya know why, Cupe.” Strife’s face was still as pale as ever, but Cupid
could practically see the humiliation burning in his cheeks anyway. He knew
exactly what Strife was about to say, but he didn’t want to hear the words.
He knew what the rest of the gods thought of him; he’d always known what
their opinion of his particular godhood was, but he didn’t want to hear his
cousin say it out loud.

Before he could stop himself he’d closed the distance between them and
reached out, catching Strife’s chin in his hand and tracing his jaw line
with warm fingers. “Don’t,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper in
the stillness of the room. “I know what everyone thinks of me, but it’s not
true. I have a job to do, sure, but it’s just a job. I’m supposed to
inspire passion, right? But that doesn’t mean I don’t want the same thing
everybody else wants.”

As he spoke he ran his thumb along Strife’s bottom lip, smiling to himself
when the other god’s lips parted in response to the touch. He should have
noticed a long time ago, but he’d never paid that much attention to what
Strife was doing. He’d always liked having his cousin around when they were
younger, but when Strife started working for Ares Cupid saw less and less of
him. After awhile he got caught up in his own search for true love and
forgot to miss the fact that Strife didn’t follow him around anymore. Then
he’d met Psyche, and he thought his life was perfect. It wasn’t until his
marriage started to fall apart that he realized something was still missing.

“I should have noticed,” he murmured half to himself. “I’m Love, I should
have known.”

“It wouldn’ta mattered, Cupe. Ya had other stuff ta worry about.”

He wanted to object, to tell Strife that it would have mattered. He wanted
to believe that it would have made everything different, but he knew it
wasn’t true. Maybe they would have slept together long before now if he’d
known, but it wouldn’t have changed the fact that he would have searched for
the perfect bride and it wouldn’t have saved Strife’s life. In the end they
would have ended up exactly where they were right now, only they might not
even have this. There was nothing he could say to make Strife feel better,
to reassure him or make up for the years he’d spent thinking Cupid would
never want him. All he could do was prove Strife wrong, and he wasn’t sure
if even that would be enough.

As soon as he moved Strife swayed closer, his hands landing on Cupid’s chest
as Cupid covered Strife’s mouth with his. Kissing Strife had been intense
from the beginning, but now the sensation was tempered with a desperation
that made Cupid’s head spin. He hated the thought of only being able to see
his cousin when he could sneak away from his duties and find someone to
watch Bliss, but he hated the thought of never kissing Strife again even
more.

And maybe Strife had been right the night before when he told Cupid he
hadn’t thought about what they were getting themselves into, because until
now he hadn’t even considered how complicated a relationship would be. Now
that he knew how Strife felt he couldn’t just change his mind, though, even
if he thought he could walk away without a backward glance. For better or
worse they were both invested in whatever was happening between them, and
they were just going to have to deal with the consequences.

It was hard to regret rushing headfirst into a relationship with Strife
while the younger god was pressed up against him, leather sliding against
the bare skin of his chest and Strife’s fingers clutching at his shoulders
as though he was afraid Cupid was going to let go. Letting go was the last
thing on his mind; he didn’t want to think about what happened when he had
to leave again. In the few hours they’d been separated Strife had managed
to dream up an entire scenario involving delusions of torture at Cupid’s
hands, and he didn’t want to think about what would happen if he couldn’t
make it back down to Hades’ realm for a few days.

He hadn’t even had time to think about his own feelings for Strife yet, at
least not beyond the first giddy stages of attraction. Right now they
should be naked and messing up Strife’s sheets some more; it was way too
early in their relationship for serious conversations, let alone the
desperate intensity of their kiss.

As soon as he thought it Strife tensed up, his palms flattening against
Cupid’s shoulders to push the other god away. “Wait,” he choked out, his
hands trembling against Cupid's skin. “We still gotta talk about this,
Cupe. Just ‘cause I wanted ya before I died doesn’t change anythin’. I’m
still stuck down here.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Cupid said, but even he knew the words weren’t true.
He already dreaded the thought of leaving Strife and going back to his own
life, but there was nothing else they could do. He wasn’t even sure what he
wanted from Strife, all he knew was that when they were together he didn’t
feel like there was something missing from his life. He knew he shouldn’t
feel that way just because they’d had sex a couple times, but even before
they started sleeping together he’d looked forward to being around Strife.
“Look, I know it’s not going to be easy. I mean I can’t get down here that
much, I’m pushing it with Mom and Bliss as it is. But I really want to
try.”

He could see the hesitation in Strife’s eyes, and for a long moment he was
almost sure his cousin was going to say no. It would be the right thing to
say; there was no way they could make this work, and it wasn’t really fair
of him to ask when he hadn’t said a word to Strife about his own feelings.
The problem was that he had no idea what to say - he knew he wanted Strife,
but he wasn’t sure how to put the rest of it into words. All he could do
was offer to try and hope that Strife could tell that he wasn’t playing with
his feelings.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there waiting for an answer, but just as he
was about to give up Strife cleared his throat and took a careful step
forward. “Ya sure ya wanna do this, Cupe? I mean we could just forget the
past two days, go back ta the way it was…”

“I don’t want to forget,” Cupid interrupted, turning on what he knew was his
most charming smile. “Do you?”

“Are ya crazy? Zeus, Cupe, no way could I forget that. I mean I could try,
but there’s no way…”

That was a far as he got before Cupid cut him off, claiming Strife’s mouth
with his own to silence the stream of words. He grinned against the other
god’s lips when Strife let out a muffled gasp, tightening his hold on
Strife’s waist and backing them toward the bed. The only word he’d needed
to hear was ‘no’; after that he’d stopped listening altogether and started
thinking about how he could get Strife out of all that leather again without
his powers.

~

Ares had spent most of the past day hoping that something he’d said had
gotten through to Cupid. He was pretty sure it hadn’t, but he still had to
try. It probably would have been a lot more effective if he could just tell
Cupid why he wanted him to stay away from Strife, but he couldn’t do that to
his nephew. It was his fault Strife was banished from Olympus, after all;
Ares couldn’t add insult to injury by telling Cupid how Strife felt about
him.

He wasn’t even supposed to know; as far as Strife was concerned no one knew,
but Ares knew his nephew better than anyone else in the Pantheon. It hadn’t
taken him long to figure out that Strife was head over heels in love with
Cupid, and it hadn’t taken a love god to see how much it hurt Strife to
watch Cupid go through a string of consorts before finally settling on
Psyche.

He’d hoped that would be the end of it, that it would be the thing Strife
needed to finally break him out of his hopeless crush on Cupid. For awhile
he’d thought that it had, but he’d finally realized that even though Strife
wasn’t hanging around Cupid anymore, his feelings were still just as strong
as they’d always been.

He wasn’t obvious about it, but he lived under Ares’ roof and he would have
to be blind not to see the signs of his nephew’s heart breaking. The worst
part was that Strife had never gotten over it while he was still living on
Olympus, and after he went and got himself killed he didn’t have anything to
think about down in the underworld except what Cupid was doing. Then Cupid
started going around to visit Strife, claiming that he missed his cousin and
felt sorry for him all alone down there, and Ares knew exactly what was
coming.

Psyche was still in the picture then, but as soon as she left Ares started
to worry that Strife was going to get his hopes up again. So he’d done what
he had to; he’d told Cupid in no uncertain terms to stay away from Strife,
and he’d made sure his son knew that he meant it. It wasn’t that he thought
Cupid would intentionally hurt Strife, but there was no way he could know
how deep Strife’s feelings went. Even if they got involved Cupid would get
bored eventually, and then Strife would be hurt worse than he already had
been.

It was bad enough that Ares had gotten him killed, he couldn’t just stand by
and watch Cupid break his heart on top of everything else.

That was what he told himself as he flashed into Cupid’s halls to make sure
his son had taken his words to heart. When he found it empty his heart sank
into his stomach, but he told himself that Cupid was probably just at Dite’s
place. He knew how close they were; it was a large part of the reason he
and his son never saw eye to eye. Cupid was far too much like his mother
for Ares’ comfort, and it made their already shaky relationship even more
difficult.

He braced himself for the overwhelming scent of gardenias and flashed into
Dite’s temple, wrinkling his nose at the perfume lingering in the air as he
looked around for any sign of life. “Dite!” he called when he didn’t find
her in her throne room, storming purposefully down the hall toward her
bedroom.

Before he could reach her bedroom and fling the door open she appeared at
the other end of the hall, Bliss balanced on one hip. “Zeus, Arry, do you
need to bellow like that? Bliss could have been asleep.”

“Where’s Cupid?” he asked, scowling at his grandson momentarily before he
turned back to his sister.

Her expression told him what he’d feared without her having to say a word.
“I warned him to stay away,” he muttered between clenched teeth. “Why
doesn’t that idiot ever listen to reason? Is his ego really that enormous?”

“Ego? You’re not making a lot of sense here, bro. Cupie’s got a thing for
Strife, what’s the big deal? You didn’t have anything going with him, did
you?”

“No, of course not. But Cupid has no idea what he’s doing. If he had any
sense at all…”

Dite rolled her eyes and started down the hall, stopping when she reached
Ares and shoving a squirming Bliss into his arms. “Here, hold him for a
minute. He keeps flying away and I can’t get him to come back down until he
slams into something and practically knocks himself out. If Cupid comes
back and finds him black and blue I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“When is he coming back?” Ares asked, glancing down at the godling trying to
fly out of his arms before he turned his attention back to Dite.

“Beats me,” she answered, shrugging noncommittally as she dug through a
stack of scrolls. “Look, Ar, I’d love to sit around and chat, but I’ve got
work to do here. Cupie’s a little preoccupied these days, and that means
I’ve got more to worry about than usual. So can you do me a favor and just
stay out of this thing with Strife? The less he’s got to worry about the
better chance I have of him actually doing his job one of these days.”

“Stay out of it? Doesn’t it bother you?”

As soon as he finished speaking she stopped digging through the stack of
scrolls and looked up at him, her eyes narrowed slightly. “Bother me? Why
would it bother me? Because Strife’s dead?” A short laugh escaped her
throat as she shook her head and turned away from him again. “If it doesn’t
bother Cupie then I guess it’s none of my business.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ares answered. “Strife’s been through enough
already, he doesn’t need Cupid leading him on.”

“I don’t know, bro, the last time I saw Cupid he didn’t seem like he was in
any shape to lead anybody anywhere. In fact, if I didn’t know better I’d
say he’s pretty crazy about Strife.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

Psyche straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a
long, hard stare before she finally smiled. “Love’s always a good thing,
Ares.”

He opened his mouth to argue with her, but as soon as he registered the
smirk lighting up her features he thought better of it and shook his head
instead. “Just tell your son to be careful,” he snarled, concentrating on
his own throne room as he prepared to leave Dite’s halls.

“Ares,” she called just before he dematerialized, “leave the baby.”

When he looked down he realized Bliss was still nestled in the crook of his
arm, gnawing happily on one of the leather straps covering Ares’ vest. He
rolled his eyes and handed his grandson over, muttering under his breath
about crazy relatives as he flashed back to his own place.


Cupid wasn't sure which of his relatives to thank for the divine
intervention, but he hadn't seen his father in over a week. For some reason
he'd been able to avoid Ares all that time, and even his mother hadn't
bugged him with a thousand annoying questions about his relationship with
Strife. Not that he'd seen much of Strife in the past week; between seeing
to his duties and his son he hadn't had much free time, and it wasn't like
he could drag Bliss down to the Underworld with him whenever he felt like
seeing his cousin.

Not seeing Strife hadn't done anything to help Cupid stop thinking about
him. If anything he'd been thinking about his cousin more than ever,
especially now that he knew how Strife felt about him. It seemed so unfair
that their timing was so far off; they'd had so many years together to get
this out of their systems, but because he was too busy worrying about his
image he hadn't noticed how Strife felt about him until he was already dead.

There was nothing they could do about it, no one they could appeal to for
Strife's release. He was being punished for something that wasn't even his
fault, and no matter how much Cupid wished the situation was different,
nothing would change. Zeus wouldn't even listen anymore, not after the
amount of time Ares had spent yelling at him about Strife's death. He
couldn't go to Hades; his uncle didn't have the power to overrule death by
Hind's blood, no matter how many times he kicked Iolaus out of Asphodel.

So that was it, whether he liked it or not. If he wanted to see Strife he
had to steal the time away from the rest of his life, go all the way down to
Hades' realm and spend half the time he was there wishing they were back up
in his chambers on Olympus. He could still count on one hand the number of
times he'd woken up in Strife's bed, and he knew the situation was only
going to get more frustrating as time passed.

Still, he couldn't talk himself into giving it up, partly because he knew
how much it would hurt Strife, but mostly because he liked the way the other
god made him feel. When they were together he actually felt like he
mattered to someone for who he was and not what he could give them. He knew
Strife wanted him, but it didn't feel the way it did when one of the other
gods made a pass at him. Strife didn't act like he expected Cupid to give
him what he wanted without question; he seemed pretty surprised that Cupid
was interested at all, as a matter of fact, and Cupid couldn't remember the
last time he'd been with someone like that.

Maybe he never had, because most people seemed to think that since he was
Passion that he should be willing to spread it around as far as he could.
It never seemed to dawn on anyone, god or mortal, that he might have some
feelings and want someone that cared about him. For awhile he'd had that
with Psyche, but she was always a little awestruck by the whole godly thing
and he'd never figured out a way to get her past it. He couldn't really
blame her after growing up among mortals, but sometimes he didn't feel
all-powerful, and he could never show that side of himself around her.

Strife knew where he was coming from; he'd been there, and of all the other
gods he knew how frustrating it could be to want something and not be able
to make it happen. Sure, Hades had taken pity on him and let him use his
powers to a certain extent, but it wasn't the same as being able to go
anywhere any time he wanted. Strife was just as frustrated by his location
as Cupid was by his godhood, so it was natural that they'd turn to each
other when they both wanted to forget about their fates for awhile. Lately
he found himself wanting to turn to Strife more and more, though, and that
just frustrated him more because he couldn't just drop everything every time
he wanted to see his cousin.

It wasn't just the sex. That was part of it, sure, but it was more than
that. He liked the way Strife made him feel, the dumb stories he told to
make Cupid laugh, even the way he felt wrapped in Cupid's arms after a long
night of making up for lost time. He liked that Strife was always happy to
see him no matter when he showed up, and he liked that Strife didn't treat
him any differently now that they were sleeping together than he had when
they were just friends.

Everything about their relationship was exactly what Cupid had been looking
for all this time, and he was just as surprised as anyone else at who he'd
found it with. He knew his mother was still trying to figure out what he
was doing with Strife, and he didn't even want to think about what his
father had to say. None of that mattered, though, because in spite of all
the reasons he had to forget about Strife and move on, he was happy for the
first time in ages.

The only problem was finding a way to make it last when Cupid had a whole
life to deal with back on Olympus. He'd spent the past week trying to think
up some loophole that would get Strife's godhood back, but so far he'd come
up empty. It didn't seem fair that Persephone could spend part of the year
on Olympus when Strife couldn't go anywhere, but so far that argument hadn't
gotten him far. He couldn't even get Zeus to listen, and Hades wasn't
interested in hearing about anything that might jeopardize his marriage.

His mother had only listened long enough to pat him on the head like he was
still Bliss' age, which let Cupid know that she hadn't really heard anything
he said. It was obvious that he wasn't going to get any help from her, and
there was no way he was going to go crawling to his father for support. So
it was up to him; he was a major god, though, and there had to be something
he could do to get Zeus' attention long enough to talk him into letting
Strife come back at least for part of the year.

The sensation of a hand pushing his hair away from his face brought him out
of his reverie, and he looked to his right to find Strife watching him. He
wasn't sure how long the younger god had been staring, or even how long he'd
been lost in thought. "Ya looked like ya were thinkin' pretty hard there."

Cupid smiled reassuringly and shifted onto his side, his fingers skimming
the smooth coolness of Strife's bare skin. "I was just thinking about us."

"Oh yeah? Anythin' I should know 'bout?"

He could tell Strife was trying to sound unconcerned, but he'd learned to
recognize the skiddish look in the younger god's eyes over the past few
days. It was obvious that Strife still thought Cupid was going to change
his mind about them at any second. Part of him couldn't help getting a
little thrill out of that, but he wasn't sure how to convince the other god
that he was happy right where he was.

"I was just thinking about how we could get you out of here," he answered,
his smile fading when Strife tensed and pushed himself up on one elbow.

"Cupe, that ain't gonna happen. I mean sure, it'd be great, but dead's
dead. Believe me, Unc already tried everythin'. There's no takin' it
back."

"How do you know he thought of everything?" Cupid asked. He had a feeling
that Strife was right, but he wasn't about to admit that to Strife or
anybody else. "It's his fault you're stuck here in the first place."

"It ain't Unc's fault." Strife let out a resigned sigh and reached down to
cover Cupid's hand with his own. "It just happened, Cupe. It's nobody's
fault. 'Cept maybe Callisto, an' she don't even exist anymore so I can't do
anythin' about it."

"So that's it? You're okay with being stuck down here forever?"

As soon as he said it he regretted it, because he could see how much the
words stung Strife. It wasn't fair to throw his death in his face,
especially when it wasn't Strife's fault he was stuck in the Underworld.
This wasn't how Cupid had planned to start the day; it was rare that he got
to spend the night with Strife, and he didn't want to start a fight and ruin
what little time they had together. But he couldn't help being angry at the
way everyone just seemed to accept Strife's fate as though it was final.

"Course I ain't okay with it, Cupe. But like I said, Unc tried everythin'
already. There ain't no loophole. It's just the way things worked out."
Strife paused and took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on their entwined
hands. "Look, I understand if yer havin' second thoughts or whatevah. I
mean it's gotta be a bitch ta..."

"I'm not having second thoughts," Cupid interrupted. "That's not what I
meant. It just sucks that you're stuck down here. I mean it's not even
your fault, you didn't do anything wrong. Even Persephone gets a few months
on Olympus a year."

"That's different an' ya know it."

"Yeah, I know." Cupid let out a heavy sigh and fell back against the
pillows again. He knew he'd have to get going soon, but the last thing he
felt like doing was getting up and leaving Strife all alone while he went
back to Olympus. It wasn't fair, but he knew if he pushed too hard he'd
just make Strife feel bad. He was pretty sure his cousin blamed himself for
getting killed in the first place, and he didn't want to make him feel any
worse.

Finally he pushed himself up on his elbows and looked over at Strife,
forcing a smile that he hoped looked sincere. "Look, Strife, I'm not having
second thoughts, okay? I wish it was different, but I can deal with the way
things are. We haven't got a choice, right?"

"Ya got a choice, Cupe. Ya don't hafta..."

Cupid silenced him with a firm kiss. He knew exactly what Strife was going
to say, and he didn't want to hear it. The last thing on his mind was
ending things between them, and he was going to erase that thought from
Strife's mind no matter how long it took. When he pulled back his lips
curved into a genuine smile, and Strife smiled back in spite of the
nervousness Cupid could see still lurking in his eyes. "There's no choice,
okay?"

"Whatevah ya say, Cupe," Strife murmured, barely getting the words out
before Cupid claimed his mouth again.

~

Joxer stumbled along behind Xena and Gabrielle, his clumsy armor clanking
noisily with every step he took. He'd tried joining in the conversation,
but mostly they'd ignored him until he finally gave up and fell back to walk
a few feet behind the two women.

He knew they didn't mean anything by it; sometimes they just wanted to be
together, for girl talk or whatever it was they whispered about. Before
he'd given up he'd heard Xena talking about some dispute between two warring
towns about a day's walk from where they were, and he could only assume that
she was headed there to try to stop the fighting before it started. He knew
they'd probably need his help once they got there, so he was following along
to look out for his friends.

Still, he liked traveling with Xena and Gabrielle a lot more when they
didn't completely ignore him. But the weather was nice and he was headed in
their direction anyway, so it wouldn't hurt to tag along and make sure they
got where they were going. He was humming softly to himself, his gaze
focused on the ground so he wouldn't trip over any stray stones or branches,
when he collided suddenly with something warm and solid.

The sudden impact made him stumble backwards, and he lost his balance and
fell to the ground with a noisy clashing of metal. Xena was at his side
almost instantly, but she didn't look at him or even ask if he was okay as
she hauled him to his feet. In fact her gaze was focused on the path in
front of them, and when Joxer finally righted himself and looked up he
realized why.

Gabrielle was still standing directly in his path, but she seemed to have
recovered from Joxer nearly knocking her down. She held her staff in both
hands, her knees slightly bent as she stared suspiciously at Ares. Joxer
knew he shouldn't be surprised to see Ares; he was a god, after all, and he
could come and go however he pleased. Then there was the fact that Xena was
on her way to stop a battle - that usually got Ares' attention, and Joxer
felt himself tense as he reached for his sword.

He didn't quite manage to get it out of its sheath; all he really managed
was some more clanging of metal before he dropped the entire scabbard on the
path at his feet. Before he had a chance to recover Xena stepped in front
of him, nudging Gabrielle behind her with one shoulder as she reached for
her own sword. "Ares," she hissed, "what do you want?"

"Now is that any way to greet an old friend?" Ares asked, a smirk turning up
one corner of his mouth.

Joxer bristled instantly at the god's mocking tone, and he scrambled for the
sword he'd dropped. His awkward armor made it hard to pick it up, but he
finally managed by bending one knee as much as possible and straightening
his other leg completely. As soon as he got hold of the sword he realized
he couldn't right himself again, however, and he cringed inwardly at the
sound of a deep, mocking laugh.

"Why you insist on dragging that buffoon with you everywhere you go is
beyond me. Do something before he hurts himself."

All three of them looked at Joxer in time to watch him overcorrect his
posture and stumble backwards again. Gabrielle managed to catch him just in
time, squeezing his arm a little too hard as she helped him catch his
balance. "Joxer, just stay still," she hissed under her breath, giving him
an extra squeeze for good measure before she let go of him again.

He frowned and rubbed absently at his arm where her fingers had left small
red impressions. It wasn't as though he still felt an allegiance to Ares;
he believed in Xena's cause, at least what he understood of it. But he
didn't like to look like a fool in front of the god he'd been dedicated to,
and the sound of Ares' laughter still echoed in his head as he replaced his
scabbard and turned his attention back to the scene in front of him.

Xena and Ares were already arguing about whatever battle she'd been planning
to try and stop, but Joxer wasn't really listening to the conversation. It
was hard for him to follow their arguments; they never made much sense to
him, and he usually ended up thinking that if they'd just listen to each
other when they talked they'd see that they were both saying the same thing
in two different ways. At least that was the way it sounded to him, but he
knew he had to be wrong. He didn't know much about the ways of the gods,
after all, and Xena was a former Warlord, so she knew better than he did
about what Ares was up to.

He liked listening to the sound of Ares' voice, though, and even though he
wasn't sure why he never passed up an opportunity to hear it. He supposed
it was because his father had spent so much time talking about what a great
protector Ares was when he was little; it had been bred into him to worship
Ares, and it was just a hard habit to break. That had to be the reason he
felt a little pull every time he saw Ares or thought about him.

There were other gods he felt much more comfortable around; not many of
them, but there were a few that weren't so bad. Most of them seemed kind of
mean, but they didn't bother with him much so he tried not to draw attention
to himself when they were around. Still, he had to admit that Ares was
still his favorite god, even though he'd never say that out loud in front of
Xena or Gabrielle. They wouldn't understand about his father or the loyalty
he felt because of his dedication; Xena especially wouldn't understand,
because she'd been dedicated to Ares herself at one time and she didn't have
any loyalty left over at all.

He was so busy listening to the sound of Ares' voice that he didn't realize
the god was leaving until he disappeared, leaving Joxer with a vaguely
hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked down at his piecemeal
armor and swallowed a small sigh, trying not to dwell on the fact that Ares
would never think he was good enough to be a Warlord. Besides, Xena needed
him to fight for her cause, and that was almost as good as the chance to
serve Ares.

"What do you think he'll do if we don't turn back?" Gabrielle asked, drawing
Joxer's attention back to the two women.

"He'll try to stop us," Xena answered, his gaze still fixed on the horizon.
"This visit was just a warning. We'll have to be prepared for anything."

They both glanced back at Joxer as soon as the words escaped Xena's lips.
He straightened up instantly, squaring his shoulders and nearly losing his
balance again. When he caught himself he grinned confidently, resting one
hand on his sword hilt. "Don't worry, Xena, you can count on me."

Xena granted him a wry grin, so he ignored Gabrielle's eye roll and the
frustrated sigh that escaped her throat. "Just try to stay out of the way,
Joxer, okay?"

His shoulders fell a little at that, but he managed to match her smile with
a slightly less radiant version than the one he'd been wearing a few moments
ago. "Sure, Xena. I'll keep an eye out for Ares' warlords. You never know
who's hiding out in the woods."

She nodded and glanced around the path as though she really was looking for
warriors hiding just behind the trees. When she satisfied herself that the
path was clear she sheathed her sword and turned her back on Joxer again.
"Let's get going," she said to Gabrielle as they fell into step together.
"We've got a long way to go and I want to find cover before nightfall."

Joxer swallowed a sigh as the women turned their backs on him, falling into
step alongside Argo. He couldn't hear their conversation, but he had a
feeling they were talking about Ares and what he planned to do to try to
stop them. Finally he gave up trying to pretend that he was listening to
whatever they were saying and let his mind wander to the god that had
disappeared a few moments ago. He'd never admit it to Xena, but he hoped
that Ares would show up again before they reached their destination. The
next time Ares appeared Joxer wouldn't stumble over his own feet or drop his
sword. No, the next time Joxer would show Ares what a good warrior he could
be, and maybe then Ares would take him seriously.



tbc

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