AresJoxerCupidStrife - Caroline

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19

Title: Stupid Cupid
Author/pseudonym: Caroline Crane
Fandom: X:WP
Paring: Cupid/Strife, possibly more later
Rating: NC17
Status: new
Archive: yes to list archives
E-mail address for feedback: caroline_crane@hotmail.com
Series/Sequel: no, but it's ongoing
Other websites: http://desiderium.slashcity.net/

Notes: So I’m driving to work, I’ve got three chapters left to write of a very long, ongoing fanfic in a different fandom. I don’t usually answer challenges, I have enough plot bunnies of my own gnawing at me so I usually avoid other people’s at all times. But I’ve given myself a deadline, and that means I’ll do *anything* to find new and inventive ways to procrastinate. Of course Druid’s Punk Rock challenge from a month ago picks this moment to come back to me. Maybe I’ve been listening to too much speed metal. Maybe I love classic punk too much. Maybe I’m just trying to avoid writing those last three chapters of my other fic. Maybe my defenses are especially weak at 5:40 am when I’m driving through downtown DC on my way to my mindless job. Maybe if Me First and the Gimme Gimmes had never done their cover of “Mandy” we wouldn’t be here right now. But here we are. Lucky, lucky me. *IF* anyone is actually interested in me continuing this silliness (and I realize that’s a big ‘if’), I’ll try to keep it fairly angst-free. I could use something light and fun after the tremendous amounts of angst I’ve been producing recently. And if it goes well I’ll try to work in Ares and Joxer eventually. I’ll think of it as a challenge to myself.

Summary: A Cupid/Strife AU, by challenge definition. Cupid's a punk rock wannabe, Strife's a badass, and there's a lot of leather. Part one is a precursor to the smut. There will probably be a lot in this fic, which is unlike me but happens once in awhile when I need a break from my serious stuff. Think my DMoC Senior Year series, for anyone that's familiar with that one.

Warnings: Beware obscure references to punk music history, not sure if that needs a warning but there it is. It's Druid's fault. The punk angle wasn't my idea, but it's one I cannot resist.

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

The required elements:

1) Cupid/Strife smut action. Be as graphic as possible *puppy dog eyes*

2) Strife as the lead singer of a modern punk band (sexy bitch in leather/strategically torn clothes/metal)

3) NO godly anything! Everyone is normal/mortal/ungodly...you get the picture :)

4) Cupid as the consummate groupie (sexy bitch in leather/strategically torn clothes/metal). *drool*

5) Lots of screaming girls trying to get into Strife's pants, but only a certain blonde haired hunk succeeds.

6) No non-con/rape (very important!)

7) Can be a PWP/shortfic/series. You decide.

Check, check, check and check. And now, on with the story....

Stupid Cupid You're a real mean guy
I'd like to clip your wings so you can't fly
I'm in love and it's a crying shame
And I know that you're the one to blame
Hey hey set me free
Stupid Cupid stop picking on me

-- “Stupid Cupid”, Greenfield & Sedaka

Cupid stopped just inside the door to the smoke-filled warehouse, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden lack of light. He smoothed one hand over the soft, worn leather of his black biker jacket, a confident smile turning up the corners of his mouth. He looked good; he knew he looked good, and soon everyone in the club would know it.

The driving strains of heavy guitar riffs floated toward him across the room as he glanced toward the stage. It was practically impossible to see anything through the crush of bodies on what passed for a dance floor, but the music was good and it didn’t matter what the band looked like. He was there to have a good time, try out his new look, and hopefully get through the night without embarrassing himself.

The sudden flash of insecurity took him by surprise, and he frowned and pushed it as far back in his mind as it would go. He wasn’t going to start thinking stuff like that, not when his friends had practically dared him to let them make him over in this outfit. He’d seen himself in the mirror before they left Jersey to take the subway into the city, he knew how good he looked. So what if he didn’t feel like the bad-ass he was supposed to be, he looked the part and that was all that counted. At least that was what his friend Autolycus told him.

So he had a new image, and the black leather jacket and torn, faded black jeans made him look dangerous in a way he’d never thought possible. He knew he was in decent shape; he’d run on the track team since junior high and now that he was a senior he’d started to fill out in all the right places. Shedding the bookish, awkward image he’d had since he was a kid had been harder, but once he traded in his glasses for a pair of contacts and let Auto and his sometimes-girlfriend Psyche dress him up he felt almost self-confident for the first time in his life.

Of course if his mother caught him like this she’d probably never let him leave the house again.

But she hadn’t caught him yet, and he was determined to have a good time tonight. It wasn’t that often that he got into the city, and going to Auto’s favorite punk club dressed to kill was more exciting than he’d expected it to be. Almost like taking a vacation from his mundane life, like he’d left that other, boring Cupid back in Neptune and tonight he could be whoever he wanted to be.

He got a charge out of watching the crowd literally part to let him by, carefully schooling his features into a menacing scowl the way Auto had showed him. He felt someone grab his arm and looked over in time to see Psyche grinning up at him, her mischievous expression taking on a hint of evil thanks to her heavy black eyeliner and tight black clothes. “What did we tell you?” she hissed just loud enough for him to hear over the driving bass coming from the stage. “Everybody’s looking at you.”

“Don’t remind me,” he whispered back, struggling to keep his scowl in place while he answered. “I feel weird enough as it is.”

“Well get over it,” she said. “Everybody here either wants to fuck you or *be* you. Enjoy it, because you never know when the next new thing is gonna walk through that door.”

He swallowed the rush of fear as best he could and squared his shoulders, letting Psyche lead him toward the bar at the side of the club. He waited while she and Auto both flirted with the bartender, doing his best not to roll his eyes at his friends. It was really an accident that they were friends at all, and no one else at their school understood it. The idea of Psyche and Auto hanging around influencing her son gave Cupid’s mother nightmares, and he’d had more than one conversation with his teachers that started off with, “Your friends really are a reflection of your character, especially at your age.”

None of that mattered to him, though, because he knew that no matter how wild or outrageous his friends got, they really cared about him. They looked out for him at the clubs and made sure he never went home with somebody he didn’t know, and they kept him away from the more dangerous guys that found Cupid’s fair good looks and natural innocence appealing. Not that he necessarily always wanted their protection, but he appreciated the fact that they went out of their way to keep him safe. So it hadn’t taken them too much coaxing to convince him that a change of image was in order, at least for the night. He’d secretly been dying to spread his wings a little and try out the look that so many other punks his age wore like a uniform, but he’d never have the guts to do it on his own.

He hadn’t even known what punk music was until a year ago when Auto and Psyche had decided to make him their own personal project. His first taste of anything outside the mainstream was the New York Dolls CD Auto let him borrow, and as soon as he listened to it the first time he was hooked. It was like one of those stories you hear about someone’s whole outlook being changed in a single, staggering moment of clarity. He never thought something like that would happen to someone like him, but the first time he heard “Looking for a Kiss” he was hooked.

After that he bought everything he could get his hands on by the Dolls and Johnny Thunders before moving on to The Sex Pistols, The Ramones, Bikini Kill, and anything else he could get his hands on. It took him awhile to convince Auto and Psyche that he could handle going to the clubs with them, but once they finally took him to his first show his obsession took on a life of its own. There was something about the music and the crowds of screaming kids that made him feel more alive, like he’d been missing out on half his life all these years.

Even once he’d learned the entire history of punk music and figured out which bands he liked best he still felt more or less like he was on the outside looking in, though. He could learn all he wanted about the bands and the philosophy, but he didn’t feel like he was part of the scene. So he’d finally let Auto and Psyche dress him up, and for the first time in his life he felt almost like he fit in. At least on the outside, and as soon as he got comfortable in his new clothes he was sure he’d feel right at home. He belonged there as much as the rest of them, after all, and as long as they couldn’t tell how uncomfortable he was he’d be fine.

Once Psyche and Auto got their drinks they made their way toward the stage, squeezing into a spot along a railing with a slightly obstructed view of the band. All Cupid could make out above the crowd was half a drum kit and a scary-looking chick with long black hair taking out her frustrations on a bass guitar, but the music was better than he’d expected considering the band didn’t really have a reputation in the city yet. They were from somewhere out West - Detroit, he thought he remembered Auto saying - and so far nobody they knew had heard them play.

“You know, Cupe,” Auto shouted over the noise in the club, “you really do look hot tonight. You sure you don’t wanna…?” He trailed off with a gesture towards first Psyche, then himself, grinning as he watched Cupid blush. “This band isn’t that good, we could just get the hell out of here.”

It wasn’t the first time Auto had ever propositioned him, and he knew it probably wouldn’t be the last. In fact it was sort of a running joke with them now, and the truth was he was flattered by the fact that his friends were attracted enough to him to take an interest in him in the first place. If Psyche hadn’t seen him in school and decided he looked like an interesting challenge he’d be at home right now with his nose buried in some book, dreaming of what his life could be like. He’d never actually slept with them; it wasn’t that he was some virgin, in fact he’d hooked up practically every time they’d come to this club. He just didn’t like the thought of crossing that line with his friends, and anyway he wasn’t attracted to girls at all. Psyche was sweet when she wanted to be and he loved hanging out with her, but the two of them were a package deal and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“I think they’re okay,” Cupid said, affecting innocence and turning his back on his friends to face the stage. It was just another part of the game, and the only way he could stay friends with them without feeling weird about it. He pretended he didn’t know what they were getting at and they let him; so far it had worked okay, and he was hoping that wouldn’t change anytime soon.

The band had been screaming their way through some unrecognizable piece that Cupid assumed was original, but as he turned back toward the stage the music stopped and the lead singer finally moved far enough back from the edge of the stage for Cupid to get a good look at him. His stomach dropped and he swallowed hard, beyond caring whether or not he still looked the part of the disaffected punk. This guy was…well, not beautiful exactly, Cupid decided, but there was something about him that made Cupid’s pulse race on first sight. He was so thin that his ribs jutted out prominently, his dark hair long and sticking out at wild angles. Cupid thought he could make out some blue streaks in the shock of black hair, but he was too far away to tell if it was dye or just the black lights in the club.

The leather pants the guy was wearing were molded to his thin frame, making him seem even more angular that he would have in a pair of Levis. He wasn’t wearing anything over his chest, leaving Cupid with a clear view of his nipple ring and the tattoos covering his arms and back. He had a heavy silver chain around his neck, and he was wearing heavy black boots almost exactly like the ones Cupid was wearing. The thing that was most striking about him, though, more than his alarming hairstyle or the snarl that Cupid was almost sure he thought of as his signature look, were his brilliant blue eyes. They were almost stunningly bright, the kind of eyes people meant when they said used the word ‘piercing’, and when he turned to glance at the left side of the room Cupid forgot how to breathe for a second.

“Thanks for coming out to see us tonight,” he slurred into the microphone, his voice hoarse from the first half of their first set. “We’re War Bastards and this is our first time in New York City. If you like what you hear tell your friends. The next song we’re gonna do is a cover of a love song that my mom really digs. We modernized it.”

Cupid groaned as the music began, instantly recognizing the melody in spite of the fact that they were playing a punk version of it. When the first lyrics escaped the singer’s mouth Auto laughed and clapped a strong hand down on Cupid’s shoulder. “Hey, Cupe, they’re playing your song.”

“Shut up,” he growled, tossing a dark glance over his shoulder before he turned back to the band. The lead singer was bouncing on his heels, hair swinging wildly as he moved his head in time to the music. Cupid had heard that song a million times, so much that he hated it. Thanks to his mom’s bright idea to name him after that stupid cherub with the bow and arrows people had been singing ‘Stupid Cupid’ to him his whole life, whether they knew the words or not. Still, he had to admit he’d never heard a speed metal version of it, and it was almost…not that bad.

He wasn’t about to let on that he liked it, though, because if he made that mistake Auto and Psyche would be screaming the lyrics at him for the rest of his life. So he leaned against the railing in front of him and tipped his beer back, riding the buzz of alcohol in his veins as he watched the pale lead singer gyrate onstage. He was so focused on the lead singer that he almost didn’t notice at first when the man onstage caught his eye, pausing almost imperceptibly as he stared back at Cupid. A second later he grinned and went back to screaming the last verse of the song, but suddenly the air in the club seemed charged with a new kind of energy.

They watched the rest of the set, Auto and Psyche carrying on an animated conversation with someone they knew in the crowd while Cupid kept his eyes trained on the stage. Every so often the lead singer would glance over at him to see if he was still watching, flashing an impish grin that did things to Cupid that would have made him blush under any other circumstances. He was usually shy about flirting with complete strangers, but there was something about the dark-haired singer that made him forget all about his normal reaction to someone new showing interest in him. Maybe it was the clothes, or maybe the fact that they were separated by a crowd of people and the stage. Whatever the reason, every time the lead singer grinned at him, Cupid found himself smiling back.

It seemed like they were going to sing all night, and eventually even Auto started making noise about getting back before the subways stopped running. The thought of tearing himself away from his flirtation made Cupid’s heart sink into his stomach, but he knew he couldn’t just stand there for the rest of the night. He’d been so focused that he’d practically forgotten the crowd around him and his friends as it was, and it wasn’t going to do him any good to develop a hopeless crush on some guy that didn’t even live in New York.

“Hey, Earth to Cupid,” Auto said, shaking his arm to startle him out of his thoughts. “We’re gonna miss the last train, come on.”

“The show’s not over,” he said, telling himself he didn’t sound like he was whining.

“Yeah, but just think what Mommy will say when you have to call her and tell her you’re stuck in the city,” Psyche reminded him, tugging on the arm that Auto wasn’t already holding onto.

“We can take a cab back to Jersey. I’ll pay,” Cupid said. He wasn’t even really listening to the words coming out of his mouth, because if he’d thought about what he was saying he would have stopped himself and agreed to make a run for the last subway with them. All he was thinking at that moment was that he didn’t want to leave before the show was over and lose the connection he was almost sure he’d made with the pale, mesmerizing stranger still screaming onstage.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Auto groaned as Cupid shook out of their grip and glanced almost unconsciously toward the stage again. “You’ve been practically drooling on yourself all night, Cupe. He’s not worth it, just another Sid Vicious wannabe from Nowheresville. Let’s go, I’m sick of this place.”

Cupid’s first instinct was to tell Auto to fuck off, that he was capable of getting himself home and he didn’t need them babysitting him. One look at Psyche’s face and he relented almost immediately, though. There was something about the pleading mingled with sympathy in her eyes that made him realize how he was acting. He had no real reason to think anything was going to happen with the guy onstage, he was probably just amused by the fact that Cupid was acting like a groupie. There was no reason to even think he was into guys, other than a few flirtatious grins in Cupid’s direction. His shoulders fell a little as he let out another sigh and nodded. “You’re right, let’s go.”

~

Psyche leaned across Cupid to make sure Auto was snoring softly before she dug something out of her purse and dropped it in Cupid’s lap. “Got you a present on the way out.”

He glanced at her suspiciously before picking up the piece of paper, carefully unfolding it. His breath caught in his throat as soon as he saw the grainy, slightly distorted Xerox image on the blue sheet of paper, and he couldn’t quite hide the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Staring back at him were the members of War Bastards, the lead singer snarling while his band mates looked on with bored expressions. The picture didn’t even come close to doing him justice, but it was definitely him. “Thanks,” Cupid said, glancing up at Psyche again before he went back to staring at the picture.

“They’re not *that* good, you know,” she said, feigning boredom as she watched Cupid stare.

“I liked them.” He smoothed the paper out almost reverently, his fingers lingering unconsciously on the image of the lead singer.

“Yeah, well, their name totally sucks.”

“It’s kind of stupid,” he conceded with a small sigh. “But it’s no worse than The Cramps. Or Spazz.”

“He’s kind of cute, I guess. In an anemic, Joe Strummer kind of way.”

“Yeah.” Cupid winced at the dreamy sigh that escaped his lips, but as long as Auto was really asleep he wasn’t too worried about it. Psyche might make fun of him, but she didn’t mean anything by it and she wouldn’t purposely humiliate him. Auto, on the other hand…he glanced over at his large, dark friend again before turning back to Psyche. “What does it matter? He’s from Michigan or somewhere, isn’t he?”

“That is kind of a drag,” she said. “I could tell he liked you, he kept looking over at you. And weird that he sang your song, huh?”

“It’s not my song,” he reminded her, frowning to keep from mirroring her amused grin. “And it’s not like he was singing to me.”

“Could have fooled me.” She leaned over his shoulder and glanced at the flyer advertising the band’s show. “They’re playing a couple more nights, we should go see them again. At least you could find out his name.”

He stifled another sigh at the thought of adding more details to the fantasy already taking shape in his head. When he’d gone to the club he was determined to try out his new look and maybe turn a few heads, but he hadn’t expected to develop a crush on someone he had no prayer of even meeting. Even if they did go to another one of War Bastards’ shows he’d still be on stage all night, and unless Cupid hung around the stage door like a groupie he wasn’t going to meet the guy. And even if he did, what would he say? He was still just a high school kid; granted he graduated in a couple months, but no singer was going to take him seriously. Not when he found out how old Cupid was, anyway.

By the time he finally made it home he was so depressed about his chances with a guy he didn’t even know that he forgot about being careful not to wake his mother, but he managed to make it all the way to his room without having to explain to her what he was doing coming home at almost 2:00 am. With any luck she’d fallen asleep early and hadn’t noticed he wasn’t in by curfew. He rolled his eyes as he slid off his jacket and reached for the zipper on his jeans, reminding himself that he only had a few more months of his mother’s rules before he could move out. Not that he didn’t love her, but he was almost eighteen and it was starting to get a little stifling.

Once he’d stripped down to his boxers and brushed his teeth he turned off the light and slid into bed, shoving a pile of books onto the floor and stretching out under the cool sheet. He closed his eyes and tried to will the night’s events out of his mind, but he couldn’t shake the image of the pale, thin singer grinning at him from the stage. Finally he gave up trying to chase the image out of his head, letting his mind wander to the way he’d gripped the microphone. Cupid imagined those fingers on his own body, running his own warm hand over his chest as he pictured his fantasy guy touching him. His other hand wandered down to the waistband of his boxers, slipping under the cotton and closing around his quickly growing erection.

He let out a soft moan as the image in his mind shifted, and he began to stroke slowly as he wondered what it would feel like to kiss his new crush. He could almost hear the man’s voice in his ear, hoarse from screaming onstage and whispering Cupid’s name over and over as he reached around and replaced Cupid’s hand with his own. He could almost feel smooth, pale skin pressed against his back as his other hand left his chest to suck two fingers into his mouth. Once his fingers were slick with his saliva he reached behind himself and worked them slowly inside, biting down on his lip to keep from crying out as he imagined his new favorite fantasy entering him. His fist tightened around his dick as he rocked between his fingers and his fist, imagining the whole time that it was the pale, mesmerizing lead singer of War Bastards fucking him.

When he came he buried his face in his pillow so his mother wouldn’t hear him, panting hard as he rode out the wave of pleasure. His muscles clenched so hard around his fingers that it took a few minutes for him to relax enough to pull them out, a soft sigh escaping his lips at the loss. Psyche was right; it didn’t seem right that he could come so hard from a fantasy about a guy whose name he didn’t even know. He rolled back over onto his back, eyes wide as he stared up at the ceiling. And still all he could see was those red lips twisted into an impish grin, almost daring Cupid to do something about it. He smiled to himself and set about coming up with a plan to find out his new fantasy’s name, then get him to fuck him until he couldn’t remember his own name anymore.

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



As soon as they walked through the door of the club a familiar voice assaulted Cupid’s ears, and he was glad his friends weren’t looking at him to catch the ridiculous grin lighting up his features. He was sure it was ruining the affect of his outfit, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. So he was a leather-clad punk with a stud in one ear and a safety pin through the other, his blond hair was streaked with red and he was wearing the kind of boots that practically begged to commit random acts of violence. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy.

So what if he could barely breathe in his tight crimson leather pants. So what if Psyche had gone to all the trouble of strategically tearing the Anarchy in the U.K. tee shirt she’d found at a second-hand store in Jersey City so it would show the right amount of skin in all the right places. It didn’t matter that he looked like he was literally dressed to kill; there was no reason he couldn’t smile.

The only problem was that Auto and Psyche didn’t really understand the motivation behind the goofy grin that lit up his features every time he thought about a certain lead singer of an unknown punk band. He couldn’t explain it to them, and it definitely wasn’t for lack of trying. They just didn’t understand how he could be so interested in someone he’d never even spoken to. He had a suspicion that part of it was them worrying that he was getting his hopes up; not that they thought his crush wouldn’t want him, that concept was unthinkable as far as they were concerned. Cupid, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure, but he tried to keep his insecurities to himself whenever he was around Auto and Psyche. He’d heard the pep talk about how hot he was and how anybody would be crazy not to want him more times than he could count, and it was almost always followed by an offer from Auto to prove to Cupid just exactly how attractive they thought he was.

What they were really worried about was that Cupid was building up some unrealistic expectation about someone he didn’t know, and that when he actually met the guy he was going to be disappointed. He didn’t blame either of them for not wanting to deal with him when he was moping about the sad state of his love life, but he didn’t think he was being unrealistic. So far the only place his fantasies had taken him was sex, and that was the way he planned to keep it. Well, he was trying, anyway. Okay, so it would be nice if he and this guy did have some kind of cosmic connection, but he wasn’t a kid anymore and he knew stuff like that didn’t happen. Although if it was going to happen it would be just his luck that it would happen with a guy that lived a thousand miles away.

But he wasn’t thinking those kinds of thoughts, in fact they’d barely crossed his mind in the past 48 hours. He’d been thinking a lot about tonight, though, and he was so anxious to see that pale, angular body and those eyes again that he could barely stand still.

“Geez, Cupe, take it down a notch,” Auto said from behind him, his hand on Cupid’s shoulder to guide him through the crowd. “Lose the kid in the candy store look at least, would ya?”

He tried not to take it personally; he knew Auto wasn't that happy about being dragged back to the club to see the same band they'd seen two nights ago, especially over a crush on somebody none of them knew. He did his best to wipe the silly grin off his face and made his way toward the stage, ignoring Psyche and Auto and whatever they were saying about getting drinks. Working his way through the crowd toward center stage wasn't as hard as he expected it to be, but people seemed to think he was dangerous so he scowled a little more and took advantage of the fact that most of them moved out of his way.

It was kind of cool in a way, he got a thrill out of making people move out of his way just by looking at them. But that was nothing compared to the thrill he got when he finally made his way through the crowd and looked up at the stage. There was less than a foot of space between him and the stage, and he was being pushed even closer by the crush of bodies moving behind him. There were screaming kids on either side of him, a mix of guys and girls yelling unintelligibly and reaching for the stage. War Bastards was quickly making a name for itself in New York, if the crowd’s reaction was any indication. Not that he could blame them; they were all focused on the lead singer, who was on his knees, eyes squeezed shut as he wailed something Cupid couldn’t make out.

The lyrics to the song didn’t matter, though, because he was shirtless again and still wearing those leather pants that looked like they’d been sewed directly onto his legs. From this close up Cupid could finally see that the blue in his hair was actually dye and not the lights, and he felt a shiver of anticipation as he watched a bead of sweat drip down the pale neck. That was the moment that the lead singer chose to open his eyes, his gaze locking on Cupid. The smile that turned up those red lips seemed out of place while he was on his knees screaming the lyrics to a punk song, but Cupid found himself smiling back anyway. His heart pounded in time to the music and he was suddenly way too hot in the crowd at the front of the stage, but there was no way in hell he was going anywhere while those blue eyes were still locked on him.

As soon as the song ended the singer got off his knees and looked away from Cupid long enough to glance over his shoulder and nod at the dark-haired girl playing bass. “Xena’s gonna take the mike for awhile,” he growled into the microphone, his gaze locking on Cupid again. “This first song is one she wrote.” He paused long enough to set the microphone back in its stand, then he stepped to the edge of the stage and jumped down into the crowd.

This wasn’t the first time Cupid had picked someone up in the club, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d sought out some dark corner or bathroom stall for a quick fuck. It usually left him feeling like something was missing, and when he found himself less than a foot away from all that pale, sweat-slick skin he knew it wasn’t going to be enough. He wasn’t above taking what he could get, though, and if this was his only shot at the guy who’d been invading his dreams for two days he wasn’t about to pass it up because the setting wasn’t ideal.

He ignored the rush of nerves in his stomach as the other man stopped in front of him, a grin lighting up his features as the crowd pressed him even closer to Cupid. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he got the words out a hand closed around his arm and he looked away from Cupid to shake off the interruption. “Fuck off,” he growled at the short blonde clinging to his bicep.

“Strife, you can’t just leave in the middle of the show,” she shouted over the music. “Where the hell are you going?”

“None of yer business,” he answered, pulling his arm out of her grip and squeezing around her to put himself between her and Cupid. “I said fuck off.”

Cupid barely registered the look of shocked outrage directed at first Strife, then himself before he felt himself being pushed backwards through the crowd. The pale, thin body he’d spent the past two days fantasizing about pressed against his, a hand landing on his hip as Strife leaned forward to make himself heard over the music. “I been hoping you'd show up,” he shouted directly into Cupid’s ear, sending another shiver down Cupid’s spine. A second later he pulled away and turned toward the back of the club, leading Cupid through the maze of bodies toward a door that Cupid never would have seen if Strife hadn’t been heading right for it.

He pushed a flash of doubt aside as he watched Strife pull open a low door the same color as the wall, taking a deep breath as he followed the other man behind the stage and closed the door behind him. At least he’d found out the name of his crush, that had been half his goal for the night. He hoped that he was being dragged to the back of the club to fulfill the other half, but Strife had just left the band right in the middle of a set so he couldn’t be sure. Maybe he just wanted to tell Cupid to quit staring at him, although if that was the case he could have done it from the stage and embarrassed him in front of the whole club.

It was surprisingly quiet behind the stage, the music and the crowd muffled by thick walls. He followed Strife down a short hallway to another door, hoping he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. The shorter man closed the door behind him and Cupid heard a lock click, his heart skipping a beat as he realized that they were thinking the same thing after all. He felt a flurry of butterflies in his stomach as he watched Strife cross the few feet still between them, but as soon as a hand landed on the back of his neck he forgot all about being nervous. He forgot why he’d been second-guessing himself the second their lips fused together and he found himself backed against a wall, pressed into the plaster by a thin, surprisingly strong body.

When he’d imagined what it would be like to kiss his fantasy he’d expected Strife to be aggressive, probably at least a little rough and not all that concerned with who Cupid was or whether or not this was what he had in mind. He hadn’t really expected actual privacy, but from the little he’d seen of the dimly lit room before Strife kissed him he gathered it was the band’s dressing room. There were guitar cases and clothes on the floor, at any rate, and there was a couch stretched along the far wall. He might have been surprised by the fact that Strife had bothered to bring him back to the dressing room if he wasn’t so busy being shocked by the way the other man was kissing him.

It was definitely aggressive, but there was nothing violent about it. Strife’s hand had moved from the back of his neck to his face, his fingers buried in Cupid’s hair as he memorized the blond’s mouth with his tongue. Cupid ran his hands down the soft, hot skin of Strife’s back, trying to tug him even closer as Strife pressed him into the wall. He barely managed to suppress a whimper when Strife pulled back suddenly, panting and flushed as he looked up at Cupid. “What’s yer name?”

“Cupid,” Cupid answered, an involuntary grin tugging at the corners of his mouth when Strife laughed.

“No way. For real?”

Cupid nodded, for once not minding the reaction to his name. He probably wouldn’t have minded anything as long as Strife was still pressed against him. “Yeah, my mom’s got a thing for mythology. People are always singing that song you guys do to me. I guess she didn't think of that when she picked it.”

“Man, ya probably hate it, huh?”

“Not when you sing it,” Cupid answered, wincing as soon as the words escaped his lips. Great, just what he wanted to do, sound like a groupie with a crush. Which he had, but he definitely wasn’t a groupie. “I mean it sounds kind of cool as a punk song.”

“Cool. My name’s Strife.”

“Yeah, I heard that girl call you that,” Cupid answered, stopping just short of asking who she was. It was none of his business, and even if she was a girlfriend he didn’t have any right to be jealous.

Strife grinned again and glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the couch before turning back to raise his eyebrows at Cupid. “I don’t usually leave in the middle of a show,” he said, the hand that had been in Cupid’s hair wandering down his cheek to his neck, “but after ya left the last time I figured I better take a shot while I had the chance.”

“We had to catch a train,” Cupid muttered, the sound of his own voice barely registering as he focused what was left of his brain cells on the way Strife’s hips had begun to move in a slow, barely perceptible rhythm. His eyes threatened to flutter closed as Strife ground their hips together, a breathy moan escaping his throat. He knew he only had a few minutes of coherent thought left before he surrendered all control of the situation, and he forced his eyes open and buried his fingers in Strife’s hair, forcing the other boy to look up at him. “I came back because…because I want you to…to fuck me.”

He was irrationally proud of himself for actually getting the words out even if they were punctuated by a series of breathy gasps, and he didn’t even mind Strife’s soft chuckle. What he did mind was the fact that Strife pulled away, leaving him feeling a lot colder than he had a moment before. "Yer kidding, right?"

"I mean it," Cupid said. He reached down and tugged his tee shirt over his head, adding a few new tears to the fabric as he yanked it off and tossed it on the floor. He grinned as he watched Strife’s blue eyes widen, reaching for the buttons on his leather pants as he backed toward the couch. “I've been thinking about this since I first saw you.”

“Damn, there really is a God,” Strife murmured just loud enough for Cupid to hear as he reached for one of the bags on the floor and dug frantically through the pockets. By the time he found a condom and a tube of lube Cupid’s leather pants were on the floor next to his tee shirt, and he closed a fist around his cock and stroked slowly as he watched Strife walk toward him. When he reached the other man Strife dropped the lube and condom on the couch and took hold of Cupid’s arms, pushing him backwards onto the couch and straddling his hips.

“Do you have to get back?” Cupid gasped as Strife’s mouth landed on his neck to suck hard at the skin just below his ear.

“Ya got a train to catch tonight?” Strife asked when he pulled away to survey the mark he’d left on Cupid’s neck.

“Yeah.”

“Then fuck the show,” Strife answered, moving to the other side of Cupid’s neck.

Okay, so he hadn’t been expecting *that*, but it was pretty cool that Strife wanted him bad enough to walk out in the middle of a show. Maybe it wasn’t that good for the future of the band, but that wasn’t Cupid’s problem. Right now his biggest problem was getting Strife out of his pants without losing contact for any longer than absolutely necessary. He reached between them and pressed his palm against the hardness stretching the leather impossibly tighter, grinning at the muffled groan that escaped Strife’s throat. Somehow he worked Strife’s zipper down and slid the leather far enough down his hips to work his hand inside, closing his fist around Strife’s cock and stroking hard as Strife’s mouth found his again.

And this was definitely better than hard and fast and up against the wall in the bathroom or the back of the club, because Strife didn’t seem to be in any hurry and just kissing him was hotter than Cupid had expected. When the other man’s breathing got ragged Cupid closed his hand around the base of his cock, applying just enough pressure to bring him back from the edge so things wouldn’t end before he got what he wanted. When he was sure Strife wasn’t going to come he pulled his hand away and worked Strife’s pants down his thighs, letting his fingers caress newly bare skin as he pushed the leather down. The whole time Strife's mouth was moving on his skin, claiming Cupid's mouth, then his neck and collarbone to flick his tongue across a taut nipple. Cupid arched into Strife's mouth, squeezing his eyes shut to keep from coming just from the sensation of Strife's mouth moving on his skin.

Finally Strife stood up long enough to kick his pants off the rest of the way, his eyes darker than usual as he watched Cupid reach for the condom and rip open the plastic. He closed his eyes while Cupid rolled it on and coated it with lube, biting his lip to keep from coming. When he was satisfied that Strife was slick enough Cupid stood up, pressing his lips to the other man’s and forcing his mouth open with his tongue. Strife kissed him back eagerly, their tongues sliding together as Strife reached behind Cupid to run his fingers across the entrance to his body. Cupid moaned and pushed back against Strife’s fingers, caught between the rush of being able to take his time and the overwhelming urge to finally have Strife inside him.

His fantasies won out and he pulled away with a gasp, his face flushed as he turned and braced himself on the arm of the couch. “Now,” he said, his voice breathy and deeper than usual.

He heard a muted ‘Jesus’ from behind him as Strife took hold of his hip with one hand, the other stroking his back as though he was trying to calm Cupid down. He twisted his head to tell Strife that he was way beyond ready, but before he got a chance he felt a slight pressure and then the head of Strife’s cock slid inside him. A groan escaped his throat as he pushed back to meet the other man, forcing himself to relax enough to take Strife’s length in one long stroke. He’d never expected Strife to be so considerate, let alone for him to seem like he was actually afraid he might hurt Cupid. He seemed determined to be gentle, though, no matter how hard Cupid thrust back against him.

“Harder,” Cupid ordered through gritted teeth, ignoring the sting of sweat in his eyes and the way his arm muscles were already shaking from the tension of holding himself up. “Please.”

He didn’t know if it was the ‘please’ that did it, but Strife groaned and picked up speed, gripping both his hips and slamming into Cupid with enough force to make his legs shake. He knew he was going to be able to feel Strife inside him the next day at school, maybe even the day after that. That was the reason he wanted it like this, though, because if this was the only shot he got at the pale, dark-haired singer he wanted to remember it for as long as possible. He braced himself as Strife’s thrusts got a little more wild, his breathing ragged as he slammed into Cupid. His own cock was painfully hard, but he couldn’t let go of the couch to seek even a little relief so he ignored his own need and focused all his energy on keeping his balance.

Cupid choked back a frustrated sob as Strife gripped his hips hard enough to leave perfect finger-shaped bruises, clamping down hard on Strife's cock the next time he thrust forward. A choked gasp was the only warning he got that Strife was about to come, and with one final thrust he buried himself as deep as he could and moaned his release against Cupid's shoulder. It was an effort to hold them both up while Strife panted against his back, but Cupid didn't have to worry for long about his knees giving out because before Strife even caught his breath there was a knock on the door.

"I said fuck off," Strife shouted, his chest heaving as he forced himself upright and pulled out of Cupid. The loss was almost enough to bring Cupid to his knees, but Strife was still gripping his hips and before Cupid could reach down to relieve the unbearable ache in his groin Strife turned him around and fused their lips together. "Not yet," he whispered against Cupid's mouth, punctuating the command with a hard kiss. "Gimme a second."

The banging on the door continued as Strife eased the condom off and dropped it in a trash can, his pale cheeks flushed as he crossed the room to stop in front of Cupid again. "Damn, yer beautiful, Cupe," he said. "Sure you can't stay for the whole show?"

"Can't," Cupid said, wide-eyed as he watched Strife drop to his knees and reach up to close his fist around Cupid's erection. "School tomorrow."

That was all he managed to say before Strife's mouth closed around the head of his cock, shutting off his brain function and all sensation past where Strife's mouth ended. He gasped and buried his fingers in dark hair, his eyes rolling back as Strife's tongue did things to him he'd never even read about. It barely took any time at all before he was shouting Strife's name and coming without warning, too caught up in the exhilarating rush to remember to feel bad about not giving him any warning. Finally his legs had all they could take and he slid to his knees in front of the other man, vaguely aware of warm arms holding him upright and a pair of lips feathering kisses on his forehead and cheeks. He remembered thinking that that was nice, a lot sweeter than he was used to but definitely a nice change.

"College, huh? Yeah, I figured ya fer smart when I first saw ya," Strife said, chuckling softly in Cupid's ear as he smoothed his hair back. Another knock sounded on the door, louder this time, and he turned his head away from Cupid long enough to shout a stream of obscenities at whoever was on the other side. "Too bad ya got class tomorrow. Sure ya can't stay? I could have ya back by morning, I can give ya a ride in our van."

Slowly Cupid's brain began processing Strife's words, and he was glad he was flushed and too sluggish from coming to panic. He felt himself nod in response to Strife's assumption, and just like that he was locked into the lie. It didn’t matter, he told himself as he stared back at Strife and waited for his brain to catch up with him. They were never going to see each other again, so if Strife wanted to believe he was college-age maybe it was better that way. "I can't," he heard himself say. "I mean I want to, but I can't."

"Worth a shot, anyway," Strife said, grinning as he stood up and dragged Cupid to his feet. His eyes wandered down the taller man' s form and then back up again, his grin fading a little as he stepped forward and closed the distance between them again. Cupid leaned forward automatically, his lips parting eagerly under Strife's. Instead of the hot, insistent kisses from earlier this one was slow, almost as if Strife was reluctant to let him go. When they finally parted the smaller man cleared his throat and took a step backwards, scanning the floor for the clothes they'd dropped. "Right, so I should get back before the bitch on the othah side a the door tracks down the manager and gets the key. So maybe I'll see ya around."

"Yeah, maybe," Cupid said, stopping himself from asking how long they were going to be in town. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, because if he did he'd spend the entire time obsessing about ways to 'accidentally' run into Strife again. "Listen, thanks. You know."

"Believe me, Cupe, it was my pleasure," Strife said, his grin returning as he watched Cupid struggle back into his leather pants. He reached into one of the bags on the floor and produced a torn, questionable-looking pair of black jeans, sliding into them and fastening them before he looked back at Cupid again. "Ya mind if I call ya that?"

"What? Oh, no," Cupid said, smiling at the warmth that spread through him at the thought of Strife having a chance to call him 'Cupe' again. He was fairly sure it wasn't going to happen, but it would give him something to fantasize about, anyway. "Call me whatever you want."

For a second the mischievous grin was replaced by a warm, genuine smile, and Cupid's knees shook so violently that he almost had to sit down. Somehow he managed to keep himself upright, shaking his head and forcing himself to pull his tee shirt back on. Putting his boots on distracted him enough to pull himself back together, and when he looked up again Strife was reaching for the door knob. He thought when the knocking stopped that the girl on the other side had gotten tired of waiting and left, but instead of the blonde they'd seen earlier Cupid looked up to find the rest of the band glaring at both of them as they shoved their way into the room.

He cleared his throat and avoided eye contact as he made his way toward the door, determined to walk right past Strife and disappear into the crowd before any of them thought of anything to say to him. As soon as he reached the door a hand reached out to stop him, though, and he found himself looking down into bright blue eyes. "We're playing The Underground next weekend. If ya wanna come by," Strife said.

"Sure…I mean I'll try to stop by," Cupid said a little too quickly, praying that Strife would chalk his blush up to the band walking in on them and not his embarrassment at acting like a lovestruck teenager. "We usually make it into the city on the weekend anyway."

"Good." Strife pushed himself off the door and leaned into Cupid, making Cupid wonder if he was going to kiss him again right in front of his friends. He stopped just short of actual physical contact, though, grinning broadly as he met Cupid's gaze. "See ya, Cupe."

All Cupid could do was nod and back out of the room, his gaze locked on Strife until the door closed, leaving him alone in the dim hallway. He shook himself and turned toward the door that would lead him back to the club, fighting a losing battle against the grin he was sure Auto and Psyche wouldn't let him live down for weeks.



Strife allowed himself roughly thirty seconds of basking in the afterglow of casual sex with one of the hottest guys he'd ever laid eyes on before he pasted a snarl back on his face and turned to face his bandmates. Judging by the length of time they'd spent pounding on the door he figured they were pissed, but they had to know what he was doing when he left the stage. Then again maybe that was *why* they were pissed, not that he really thought that was fair. He never gave them any shit about where they got off and who they did it with.

He turned to face them, swallowing a smirk as Hercules sprawled out at the end of the couch he and Cupid had just been using. "What the fuck?" he demanded, hoping if he went on the offensive right away that they'd forget the real reason they were pissed at him. "If yer gonna end the set early can't ya just get a fuckin' drink or somethin'?"

"Fuck you, Strife," Iolaus snarled at him, his drumsticks freezing in mid-air long enough for him to glare at their lead singer. "Anyway, Jailbait probably had to get home to his mommy."

"What the fuck're ya talking 'bout? He's not jailbait, he's in college. He just told me so."

"Well next time maybe you should ask to see a driver's license," Xena said. "Because Gabbie's seen him around here plenty of times with his friends, and she says they're all still in high school."

"That bitch," Strife muttered, rolling his eyes at the mention of Xena's best friend. At first he'd just hated Gabbie because of the way she treated Xena like a doormat, but now that he'd spent some time with her he hated her just for being who she was. “What the fuck does she know?”

“A lot more than you about your jailbait boyfriend, anyway. And just because you don’t like her doesn’t make her a bitch.”

"Yeah, and what the fuck kind of name is 'Cupid', anyway?" Hercules added, glancing over at Iolaus with a smirk.

Strife rolled his eyes again, shaking his head as he tried to convince himself this was all just some dumb joke. Maybe they were just trying to get back at him for ditching them in the middle of a set. "Fuck off," he muttered, his cheeks flushing at the lameness of the comeback.

"Look, Strife, if you wanna screw around with some underage groupie we'd don't care," Xena said, her voice softening almost imperceptibly. "Just remember why you're here. No piece of ass is worth throwing that away, no matter how pretty he is."

And that was the problem, because Cupid wasn't just a pretty piece of ass. Okay, so Strife had wanted to fuck him since the first second their eyes met, but now that he had he still wanted him. Usually when he picked somebody up in a bar or a club one night was enough, after he knew how the guy kissed and how he felt moving under Strife he got bored and moved on. Cupid, though…that was a guy Strife definitely wanted to see a lot more of. It just figured that the first guy in ages that he'd actually been interested in would turn out to be a high school kid. A high school kid that he'd fucked without any prep work. Hell, they'd barely exchanged names before they started tearing their clothes off. "Shit. He's gotta be like a senior, though, I mean you guys saw him. No way is that kid less than seventeen. Maybe he's eighteen already. Did the bi…Gabbie say how old he was?"

"She didn't say," Xena snapped. She glared at him for a second before relenting with a sigh. "Look, Strife, don't freak out, it's no big deal. Everybody saw that kid, he knew what he was doing. So I doubt you need to worry about his old man showing up with a shotgun or anything. Plus, who could blame you? He was pretty hot, even Iolaus said so."

"I did not," Iolaus snapped, heat creeping into his cheeks as they all turned to look at him. He glanced over at Hercules and blushed an even deeper shade of red. "What? I didn't fucking say that."

"Whatevah," Strife muttered, thankful that Herc and Xena had moved on from laughing at him to making fun of Iolaus. He couldn't enjoy the fact that Hercules looked horror-stricken at the idea of his best friend thinking a guy was hot, though, because he was too busy worrying about Cupid. It was bad enough he'd had sex with the guy without even bothering to ask how old he was, but he couldn't deny that he still wanted him. Even now that he knew Cupid had lied all he had to do was picture that shy smile and his cock twitched in his jeans.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, sinking into a rickety metal chair and burying his head in his hands. That wasn't even the worst part, because no one would blame him for wanting somebody that looked like Cupid. No, the part that really worried him was that he'd invited Cupid to their show this weekend, and chances were that he'd show up. He'd said he'd try, and for all he knew Strife still thought he was some college kid from the suburbs. And he knew himself well enough to know that if Cupid did show up he was going to have a hard time saying no the second time.

He tried to tell himself that it was no big deal that Cupid was a little younger than he'd assumed; seventeen was old enough and it wasn't like he'd broken any laws. At least he didn't think he had. The thought of fucking a high school kid, though - high school seemed so long ago for him, and he remembered what it was like back then whenever somebody showed an interest in him. There were always a bunch of messy feelings and emotions and all that stuff Strife didn't have time for right now, and he couldn't afford to have some high school kid falling in love with him. That was the last thing he needed, especially when the band was just starting to make a name for itself.

He was still brooding when Xena stood up and announced that it was time to get back onstage, dragging Strife out of his chair and pushing him ahead of her out the door. The last thing he felt like doing was getting up onstage and screaming his way through another whole set, but it was their first real gig in New York and if he fucked it up they'd kick him out of the band. Xena was right about one thing; he'd worked too hard for this shot to fuck it up because of some pretty face. He just hoped the pretty face and the body it was attached to had already left to catch his train back to wherever he came from.

As the music started behind him he found himself scanning the crowd, telling himself he was just making sure Cupid was already gone. He caught sight of blond hair out of the corner of his eye, his heart skipping a beat as he swung as casually as possible in that direction. As soon as he realized it wasn't Cupid his heart fell, and he squeezed his eyes shut and put a little extra energy into the guttural scream at the beginning of the song. His heart didn't have a goddamn thing to do with anything, and there was no way he was actually looking for some kid that had lied to him about his age. Granted, he'd never actually asked, but that wasn't the point. The point was he was not going to have a crush on some high school kid, and that was all that mattered.

~

"What, again? You've gotta be fucking kidding me. Cupe, come on, man. I thought you got that out of your system last weekend."

Cupid scowled and picked at a loose thread on the cuff of his denim jacket so he wouldn't have to see Auto's disapproving stare. It was bad enough that he couldn't do anything without the two of them finding out about it, but now Auto was just being a jerk because he could. Or maybe he was jealous, but that was something Cupid didn't even want to think about.

"Give him a break, Auto. He's got a crush." Psyche leaned around her boyfriend and grinned in Cupid's direction, succeeding in making him blush a little harder as he rolled his eyes.

"I do not. I just like the band."

"I don't care if you're engaged to marry the guy, I don't want to hang out at that piece of shit club. I hate that place, everybody that goes there is a total poser."

Cupid rolled his eyes again but didn't say anything. Instead he stood up and dusted imaginary dirt off his jeans, leaning down to pick up his backpack. "Yeah, well, I don't remember asking if you wanted to go with me," he said when he straightened up again, raising his eyebrows defiantly when Auto frowned at him. "I gotta go."

"Cupid, wait," Psyche called after him, but he didn't bother looking back at his friends. He heard Psyche slap Auto's arm and mutter something about his big mouth, but he shut them out and walked a little faster so he didn't have to hear whatever Auto was about to say about him.

He was used to them hovering over him like he couldn't take care of himself; after all, when they first met him he didn't know anything about life outside of Neptune, New Jersey. He'd been hanging out with them for almost a year now, though, and he'd been to the clubs enough to know how to handle himself. He didn't need babysitters anymore, and whether or not Auto wanted to face it he wasn't Cupid's bodyguard. Or his boyfriend. Cupid scowled and pushed away the jolt of guilt he felt for walking away from them, shifting his backpack a little further up on his shoulder as he turned toward home.

It would be one thing if it was really about Auto just not wanting to go to The Underground that weekend. Cupid knew it wasn't his favorite club, but they'd endured the cramped room, the sticky tables and the watered-down beer on the nights when the club actually had decent bands headlining. He'd thrown in that insult about posers just to let Cupid know that he didn't like the fact that his best friend was chasing around after a singer like some kind of groupie, but that wasn't what Cupid was doing at all. It wasn't. He thought the band was pretty good, but even if Strife was just some guy he'd met at the club he'd want to see him again.

They had a connection, he knew they did. Maybe a guy like Auto wouldn’t understand something like that, not with the way he hit on everything that happened to look twice at him. Normally Cupid wouldn't think twice about some guy he had sex with the first time he met him; he didn't have any teenage delusions about romance, or sex equaling love. But Strife had *asked* to see him again, he'd invited Cupid to the show and that had to mean something, right? Even if he didn't want a repeat performance of last time it at least meant he liked Cupid enough to want him around.

Well, maybe not *liked* exactly, they didn't really know each other well enough for that. But he was interested, and that had to count for something. It would probably be better if he didn't show up with Auto and Psyche in tow anyway. Who knew what they'd do or say to embarrass him in front of Strife and the other members of the band, that was if Cupid actually met any of them instead of just rushing out of the room as soon as they showed up this time. He blushed all over again at that thought, but he squared his shoulders and told himself it didn't matter what they thought of him. All he cared about was what Strife thought, and if he didn't show up at The Underground that weekend he'd never get a chance to find out.

There was still the problem of Strife assuming he was in college, but Cupid had almost convinced himself that didn't matter. It was just a little white lie, and it wasn't like he'd ever actually confirmed it. So Strife thought he was a year or two older than he was, no big deal. It wasn't like they were even dating, and if that changed Cupid would just tell him the truth. Dating Strife…the idea sent a flurry of butterflies sailing through his stomach, and he thought for a second he might actually throw up. He slowed his footsteps as he got closer to his house, turning over the idea in his mind. A boyfriend like Strife was something he'd never had before - to be honest he'd never had a boyfriend at all - but suddenly Strife was exactly the kind of guy he'd been looking for all this time. He just knew it, he didn't even have to get to know him to know that.

Not that it mattered, though, because Strife wasn't going to be his boyfriend. Strife wasn't even going to be in town, because he was from Detroit or somewhere and after this weekend Cupid would probably never see him again. He knew that, it was just hard not to think about the possibilities. It hadn't been so hard until Auto and Psyche started in on him on the train ride back from the club last weekend, but ever since Psyche started teasing him about his crush he hadn't been able to think about much else.

He just wished he could prove to them for once that he wasn't some dumb kid that needed looking out for. He almost wished they'd show up at The Underground so they could see that Strife wanted him around, that he was happy that Cupid showed up and that he really had asked him to stop by. Of course the idea of Auto acting like his big brother, or worse, his own personal guard dog, didn't appeal to him much, and with his luck one of them would open their big mouths and let it slip that Cupid hadn't actually gotten around to graduating from high school yet. Yeah, it was definitely better if they found something else to do this weekend. It might even be best for everybody if they forgot they even knew who Cupid was.

~

As it turned out there was a lot more to this whole 'dressing to go out' thing than Psyche had let on. She made it look so easy, but without her help Cupid just felt stupid about everything he tried. He couldn't find the right shirt to go with his pants to save his life, and he wasn't about to try streaking his own hair. So instead of the dramatic red streaks he'd had the last time he saw Strife he'd just have to settle for plain old blond, and instead of a strategically ripped Sex Pistols tee shirt he was wearing a pair of black jeans, an old white tee shirt and a long black coat Psyche had made him buy. When he'd looked at himself in the mirror back home the first thing he thought was that he looked like he was trying to be Spike from 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'. The second thing he thought was that he couldn't go through another hour of trying to find the perfect outfit, and anyway if he didn't get going he was going to miss the whole show.

He'd lied to his mother for the first time that night. Okay, so he'd told her half-truths before just to keep her happy, but this was the first time he'd ever looked her square in the eye and told a complete and outright lie. He knew she'd never let him go out by himself, though, and if she knew he was taking the train into the city alone…he'd be locked in his bedroom until he was 30. 35 if she found out he was going to meet a guy. She let him go into the city alone to visit his dad, but only during the day. And even though she didn't like Auto and Psyche much she'd let him go to shows with them, as long as they made sure he was on the last train. He was almost eighteen, and she knew as well as he did that she'd have to let him grow up eventually.

Still, going into the city to meet some guy she'd never met, and an older guy at that would have been too much even for his mother. So he'd told her he was spending the night hanging out and watching movies with Auto and Psyche, and then without even thinking about it he'd added that he was going to crash at Auto's so she shouldn't worry about him coming home. He didn't even know why he'd said it, it wasn't like he had definite plans with Strife. Chances were he'd get to the club and the guy wouldn't even remember who he was, but he'd stood there and looked right in his mother's face when he told her he wouldn't be home that night.

It had felt weird to say it, he wasn't sure what the word was exactly but he was leaning toward 'liberating'. It wasn't his first real act of defiance, but he always tried to follow his mom's rules and lying to her about his plans felt just dangerous enough to feel kind of good. That and the fact that Auto didn't approve of what he was doing just made him more determined to do it, and when he stepped off the subway and made his way toward The Underground it was hard to keep from bouncing just a little. He managed to rein in his excitement enough to look dangerous, a scowl firmly fixed on his features. If his eyes shone just a little more than usual nobody would notice.

Psyche had told him once after a long, full night of partying that he looked older with a little stubble, so he hadn't shaved for a couple days and the coarse hair on his chin just made him look that much more like he was looking for trouble. The bouncer at the door to the club didn't even ask for his ID, which was almost disappointing because he had an excellent fake. He just shrugged when the man waved him inside, making his way through the crowd to the bar.

He ordered a beer to calm his nerves and took a few sips of bitter liquid before he found a seat near the side of the stage, sprawling in an uncomfortable wooden chair and resting his elbows on the table to wait for the show to start. Once he got over the initial thrill of doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing he started looking around a little more self-consciously, feeling suddenly overdressed in his long jacket and tight jeans. The club was filling up quickly with the weekend crowd, and the room was heating up faster than he'd anticipated. He tilted his beer back and swallowed half the contents of the bottle, wishing he'd remembered to eat something when his head started to swim a little from the sudden rush of alcohol in his system.

Okay, so maybe going to a club by himself wasn't the most fun he'd ever had. But he wasn't there to hang out and mingle, he wasn't even there to hear the band. He was there to see Strife, and as long as he actually showed up and remembered who Cupid was everything would be fine. The fact that there was no sign of him yet didn't mean anything; it was still pretty early and the band wouldn't go on for at least another half hour. So he wasn't there early to talk to Cupid before the show, it wasn't like Cupid had been expecting that. He wasn't expecting anything, he was just there because he said he'd be there.

The closer it got to show time and the more beer he got in his system the harder it was for Cupid to remember why he'd gone to the club in the first place. Strife had never actually said he'd talk to Cupid at the show, now that he thought of it. All he'd said was 'we're playing at The Underground, you should come by'. So maybe he thought Cupid was some kind of groupie or something, and he'd just been doing a little free advertising for their next show. The thought would have made Cupid blush if his face wasn't already so warm from the combination of beer and his jacket. And why had he decided it was a good idea to wear a leather duster in April, anyway? He was going to sweat to death before he ever laid eyes on Strife again, and that was sure to make a great impression.

Only if Strife really did think he was just a groupie Cupid didn't even want to see him. What he wanted to do was get up out of his chair and make his way across the crowded, smoky club to the door. He could always take the subway to the Village and see what his father was doing, maybe crash on his sofa so he wouldn't have to go home and make up another lie to tell his mother. The more he thought about it the better that idea sounded, and he'd almost made up his mind to bail when someone stopped in front of his table.

"So you showed after all."

He looked up, blinking at the girl standing between him and the stage. She had short blonde hair, and her features were twisted into a smirk that would have made him nervous if he hadn't already finished a beer and a half. She looked familiar, but he couldn't remember where he'd seen her before. "Do I know you?"

"I'm with the band," she answered, her smirk fading into a grin that told him whatever she did for the band was pretty important, at least to her. "You wanna go backstage? I know Strife'll want to see you."

Cupid paused with his lips slightly parted, glancing past her at the still-empty stage for a second before he turned his attention back to her. "You sure he won't mind? I mean don't they go on soon?"

"They've got plenty of time," she answered. "Come on, I'll take you back myself."

"I don't mind waiting," Cupid said, some of his buzz wearing off as it sunk in that she was actually offering to take him to Strife. He should have jumped at the chance; that was the whole reason he was there by himself, after all, but something about the way she kept smirking at him made him wonder what he was getting himself into. "I'm really just here to hear them play anyway."

"Sure you are." She smirked again and grabbed his arm, hauling him up out of his chair. "I'm Gabbie," she called over his shoulder as she dragged him through the crowd toward a door at the back of the club. "I'm the band's manager, I set up the gigs and stuff. Don't worry, it's totally cool if you go back."

Cupid wasn't at all sure he should believe her, but it seemed impolite to stop her when she seemed so determined to bring him directly to Strife. Suddenly the prospect of spending the night on his father's couch sounded like the best idea in the world, and he glanced mournfully in the direction of the front door of the club as Gabbie pushed him through the stage door and stepped through behind him. Less than thirty seconds later he was being half-shoved, half-guided through another door, and he blinked at the sudden change in light.

"Hey Strife," Gabbie said from behind him, and he glanced back at her long enough to register the return of her smirk. "Look who I found."

Cupid followed her gaze, taking in the amused and not-at-all-surprised expressions of the rest of the band before he forced himself to look at Strife. He looked exactly like Cupid remembered, all pale angles and bright blue eyes peering out at him from under a shock of dark hair. This time he was wearing some kind of chain metal thing that covered his chest but left his arms bare, and Cupid swallowed hard as he forced his gaze back up to those piercing blue eyes.

The room was too quiet, and for a second Cupid thought about turning and bolting out the door he'd just come through. Then someone cleared their throat and somebody else unsuccessfully stifled a snort of laughter, and Strife stood up and crossed the room. He didn't stop in front of Cupid, he didn't even say hello or 'what the fuck do you think you're doing?'. He just grabbed Cupid's arm and pushed him back in the direction of the door he'd just come through, guiding him out into the dimly lit hallway and slamming the door shut on his bandmates before he turned a glare on Cupid.



Cupid was bigger than Strife. Not alarmingly so or even so much that they’d draw a lot of attention walking down the street together, but he was at least a few inches taller and he definitely had more muscle than the too-thin man staring him down. So there was no reason for him to actually be scared just because Strife was glaring at him like Cupid had just insulted his mother. Or his hair. He definitely looked scared, though, and Strife had to work hard to ignore the surge of guilt that shot through him. He did his best to ignore another, different kind of surge and narrowed his eyes even more dangerously, taking another step forward.

He was almost surprised when Cupid backed up in response, but before either of them knew what was happening Cupid was pressed against the wall and Strife was standing less than a foot in front of him. Okay, so he wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing, but he had every right to be pissed at Cupid. He was the one that lied, and Strife was the one that had been putting up with the insults and cradle robber jokes from his friends for the past four days.

“How old are ya?”

The question escaped his lips before he even realized he was about to ask it, but he figured it was as good a place to start as any so he crossed his arms over his chest and waited. Cupid’s lips parted and his eyes got a little wider, then he looked down in the direction of Strife’s chest and he wasn’t sure thanks to the dim light in the hallway, but he thought Cupid might be blushing. Then the other boy’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and Strife stifled a groan and rolled his eyes. “Look, Cupe, I know ya lied. High school, not college, right? Yer eighteen, though…just say yer eighteen.”

“How’d you know?”

“That stuck-up bitch Gabbie knows some a yer friends from the clubs,” Strife answered. “They’ve been givin’ me shit about ya all week. But yer a senior or somethin’, right? So yer eighteen.”

“I’m a senior,” Cupid answered, but from his nervous expression Strife could tell he was about to say something he didn’t want to hear.

“Don’t tell me yer like some kid genius that’s like fifteen and just looks really old fer his age.”

“No…nothing like that, I swear.” His nervous little laugh was pretty cute, as it turned out, but Strife ignored that thought and drew himself up a little straighter. He was still at least three inches shorter than Cupid, but it made him feel a little more in control. “I’ll be eighteen in a couple months. I didn’t mean to lie about it, Strife, I swear. It just happened so fast and then…and you just assumed…I didn’t really think it would matter.”

“Shit, Cupe,” Strife said, but he was talking more to himself than the boy he had trapped against the wall. “Yer just a kid.”

“I am not,” Cupid protested, evoking a smirk from Strife. He sure as hell didn’t look like ‘just a kid’, especially not with the new facial hair, but just for a second when he denied it he sounded like one. Then Cupid let out a sigh and slumped back against the wall, his shoulders sagging a little. “Besides, it’s not like I expected to see you again or anything. I didn’t think you’d care.”

Shit. This was exactly what Strife had been trying to avoid, so of course Gabbie had drug the kid backstage the first chance she got. He knew Cupid would turn up at the show, he wasn’t lucky enough to expect the kid to actually stay in the suburbs where he belonged. And now he was standing right in front of Strife, looking so…wounded. Like he was waiting for Strife to tell him he was wrong, that he did care and he was glad to see Cupid no matter how old he was. Which was so not going to happen, no matter how bad Strife felt for what he knew he had to do.

“Look, Cupe, I got a lot goin’ on with the band…”

“I told that girl I didn’t need to come back here,” Cupid interrupted, looking up with such a hopeful expression that Strife nearly lost the struggle against the groan rising in his throat. “I would have waited until after the show.”

“Nah, It’s not that. What I’m tryin’ ta say here…wait. After the show? Doncha got a train ta catch?”

As soon as Cupid shook his head Strife knew he was in trouble, but the smile was what did him in. He wanted to be pissed - he was pissed; at Gabbie, at his bandmates, at whoever was fucking with his life by handing over a perfectly good teenage boy that he should stay far, far away from. He couldn’t be pissed at Cupid, though, not when he looked so good and so much older than seventeen. Life was really fucking unfair, and if it was the last thing he ever did he was going to find a way to get even with God. If there was one of those.

“Look, I didn’t…” Strife paused and looked away, cleared his throat and forced himself to look back at Cupid. He wasn’t used to being in this position, but he was pretty sure the responsible thing to do was to ask. “I didn’t hurt ya or nothin’ last time, did I?”

“Jesus, Strife, I’m not some virgin,” Cupid answered, and this time Strife was sure he was blushing. “I asked you, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. Look, Cupe, I’m not lookin’ fer some kind of relationship here. I got too much shit goin’ on with the band and all.”

“Me either,” Cupid answered, his expression a picture of sincerity. He looked like he actually meant it, but even if he was going to be eighteen soon he was still pretty young. Strife was pretty sure he was going to regret this, but it was hard to resist when he had all that teenager practically pressed up against him.

“So ya gonna stick around…fer the show, I mean.”

Cupid shrugged and damn, even that was kind of cute. He was definitely going to regret this, especially when the rest of the band found out what he was doing. There was still time to walk away, to tell Cupid they’d already had their fun and it was time to move on. Before he could talk himself into it a strong hand landed on the back of his neck, and a second later Cupid’s lips were moving against his. He thought about stopping it, he even put his hands on Cupid’s chest to try to pry his mouth away. Instead of pushing Cupid away he found himself gripping the front of Cupid’s shirt, tugging him closer with one hand while his other hand worked its way under Cupid’s coat.

And wow, he was looking forward to getting Cupid out of all those fucking clothes, which just meant things had already gotten way out of hand. When he finally summoned enough self-control to pull away they were both panting, and he couldn’t help a little smile at Cupid’s dazed expression. “Sure you don’t hafta catch a train before the show’s over?”

Cupid shook his head against the wall, his chest heaving invitingly under Strife’s palm. “It’s Saturday. No school tomorrow.” He grinned again and pushed himself off the wall, moving a little closer to Strife in the process. “So I’ll see you after the show?”

Fuck. Just…fuck. This was not the way this was supposed to go at all. Strife let out a resigned sigh and nodded. “Yeah. Just hang out out front, I’ll find ya when we’re done.”

“Okay.” Cupid eased himself around Strife and it was a struggle not to grab him and pull him back for another kiss. Strife stopped just short of rolling his eyes at himself, shaking his head instead as he watched the blond turn and disappear through the door that led to the main part of the club. Once he was alone in the hallway his brain kicked back in, and he didn’t bother to suppress the groan that escaped his throat. He’d been telling himself for days that if Cupid showed up at the club he was going to blow him off, no matter how hard it was to ignore the kid. He sure as hell wasn’t going to offer to meet him after the show, and he definitely wasn’t going to take some teenager home with him.

But what else could he do? It wasn’t like he could drag him backstage for another quick fuck, they’d already done that and anyway it wasn’t like he owned the place. The manager would want them out of there pretty much as soon as the show was over, and then there was the rest of the band to consider. So he had to take Cupid home with him, and even though he’d never admit it part of him really, really liked that idea. Granted the apartment he shared with Herc and Iolaus was a dump, but he had a bed and it was more or less clean and the thought of Cupid stretched out on his sheets where they could take their time…

He was officially losing his mind. He never should have moved to New York. His mother was right, he hadn’t even been in town a month and already the city was fucking with his head. Only he had a sinking suspicion his sudden bout of sentiment had more to do with Cupid than the city, which was all the more reason he should fake some kind of illness and get the hell out of the club right now. Preferably through the back door.

“Strife, you gonna stand in the fucking hallway all night, man? We’re on, let’s go.”

Hercules’ voice shocked him out of his reverie and he looked up, scowled firmly in place as he pulled himself together and strode toward his friends.

“Where’d Jailbait go?” Iolaus asked, smirking at the thunderous expression turning Strife’s eyes almost black.

“Quit fuckin’ callin’ him that,” Strife snapped as he shoved his way past his band mates. He didn’t bother to look back and see if they’d followed him onto the stage, if they’d come looking for him that meant they were ready to start. He headed straight for the microphone and made a few unnecessary adjustments to the height, keeping his attention focused squarely on the stage and not on the audience. There was no way he was even going to glance in Cupid’s direction or he’d never get through a set, let alone a whole show. He’d just put it out of his mind and focus on the music, and when the show was over he’d deal with whatever was going on between them.

~

By the time he got back out to the main part of the club Cupid’s table was long gone, so he made his way over to the bar to order another beer and watch the show from a safe distance. He wasn’t expecting to be dragged backstage before the show even started, and he definitely wasn’t expecting to find himself confronted with an angry Strife. Granted he had a pretty good reason to be pissed at Cupid, but it wasn’t really *that* big a deal, was it? So he was a couple years younger than Strife thought, he was mature for his age. Most of the time.

And anyway it wasn’t like they were dating, Strife had made that perfectly clear. What Cupid really didn’t get was why Strife had felt the need to point that out when he wasn’t even from New York. Obviously they weren’t going to have any kind of commitment when Strife was going back home eventually, Cupid was just counting himself lucky that he got a second…whatever. It wasn’t like he could really call it a one-night stand, or even a two-night stand. The fact was that they hadn’t even spent a night together, all they’d gotten was half an hour in the back of a club. It wasn’t romantic by any stretch of the imagination, but Cupid was willing to take what he could get.

Maybe that was pathetic, but right then he didn’t really care. He was still too caught up in the memory of Strife’s tongue mapping every surface of his mouth to care about much of anything except the guy on stage and how much longer he was going to have to wait before they could be alone again. The fact that Strife wanted him to hang out until after the show ended was a good thing, at least Cupid had been trying to convince himself of that since Strife told him to wait out front. That meant they were going somewhere besides the back room of the club, maybe somewhere with an actual bed. The band had to be staying somewhere, and even if it was just a seedy motel room Cupid wasn’t complaining.

The thought of Strife taking him back to his room was more than exciting, but he couldn’t help wondering what would happen after the main event. Maybe Strife wasn’t the type of guy that wanted him hanging around after, and how was he supposed to ask something like that, anyway? He had no idea if that was the sort of thing you brought up before or after the actual sex.

Was he even supposed to bring it up, or did he just pretend he was asleep until he really fell asleep or Strife woke him up and kicked him out? Somehow he had a feeling Strife wouldn’t have a problem telling him to get out if that’s what he wanted, but now that he knew Cupid’s age maybe he’d feel responsible for making sure he got home safely.

And if that wasn’t the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him…he didn’t even know that Gabbie chick, or how she knew who he was, but part of him wanted to hurt her for humiliating him in front of Strife. It was bad enough that she’d told him the truth about Cupid’s age, but then to drag him back there and embarrass them both in front of the whole band…Strife was right, she was a bitch.

Hating Gabbie didn’t solve his problem with how to play it cool once Strife came looking for him, though. He’d never really thought of himself as ‘too young’ or ‘just a kid’ before, but now that Strife knew how old he was Cupid suddenly felt awkward and clueless about how to handle himself. Maybe Auto and Psyche had been right to worry that he was in over his head, because the more he thought about it the more he almost wished they’d show up and force him to go home with them.

By the time the show ended he was ready to crawl out of his skin, and the bar was practically empty when Strife finally appeared. He’d changed into a faded black tee shirt with a picture of some band Cupid had never heard of before on the front of it, and his black jeans hung low on his hips. “Let’s go,” Strife said without meeting his gaze. In fact he kept glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the stage door, almost as though he was trying to get out of there before his friends showed up and saw him with Cupid.

“Yeah, sure,” Cupid answered, swallowing a rush of nervous tension as he stood up and straightened his coat. He followed Strife to the door and stepped outside, hurrying to keep up as Strife turned down the sidewalk and headed away from the club. “Where’s the fire?”

“Sorry,” Strife muttered, slowing down marginally to let Cupid catch up with him. He cast a sidelong glance at Cupid, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders as his lips turned up in a crooked grin.

“What?”

“Nothin’. Yer hair, it’s different, isn’t it?”

Cupid smiled self-consciously and ran a hand through his hair, his gaze shifting back to the sidewalk in front of him. “Yeah, there were red streaks last time. They wash out.”

Strife nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, shivering a little in the cool night air.

“Cold?”

“What? Nah,” he answered, surprise flashing in his eyes for a second before he smiled. “I’m alright. We’re almost there.”

“Where are we going, anyway?” Cupid asked, suddenly feeling stupid for not even questioning where Strife was taking him. Everything both his parents had drilled into him about being safe and looking out for himself went right out the window whenever Strife was around, but he couldn’t help feeling like he could trust his new…whatever. They weren’t friends, really, and they definitely weren’t boyfriends, so Cupid wasn’t sure exactly what to call them. Not that they were going to know each other long enough to need a label, considering tonight was pretty much the last time Cupid could expect to see him. That thought made his stomach sink, and he pushed it away and focused on Strife as they turned a corner.

“My place,” Strife answered, turning toward a run-down brownstone and taking the stairs two at a time. “It’s kind of a dump, but it’s cheap and the neighbors don’t bitch about the noise.”

“Your place?” Cupid frowned as he followed Strife up the stairs, ignoring the graffiti on the walls and the way his boots stuck to the stairs. “You mean you have a place? As in a permanent place?”

“Yeah, what’d ya think, I lived in the club or somethin’?” Strife laughed as he stopped in front of a door on the second floor and fished in his pockets until he found a key. “Herc and Iolaus crash here too, they share the living room and I’ve got the bedroom. Neither of ‘em will share with me, think they’re afraid I’ll jump ‘em or somethin’. They wish.” He let out another snort of laughter and kicked the door shut, tossing his keys on the kitchen counter and pulling the fridge open. “Ya want a beer or anythin’?”

“No…thanks,” Cupid answered distractedly, his mind reeling as he scanned the obviously lived-in apartment. He could see the living room through the open kitchen, taking in the two twin mattresses shoved against either wall. There was no couch in sight, and they didn’t seem to have a TV. The small table in what he assumed would be the dining room was littered with beer bottles, show flyers and what looked like discarded sheet music, and the rest of the living room was made up mostly of piles of clothes. “So you…live here?”

“Gotta live somewhere, right?” Strife twisted the top off a bottle of beer and took a long swig before he turned back to Cupid and frowned. “Fuck, Cupe, what’d ya think, we were sleepin’ in the van?”

“No, it’s just…” Cupid shook his head, trying and failing to snap himself out of the fog that had settled over his brain. Strife lived here, in this apartment. Which meant he lived in New York City, as in he wasn’t packing up and going back to wherever he came from as soon as the band’s gig at The Underground was over. Which meant…nothing, Cupid reminded himself fiercely. He’d already laid down the ground rules for their…whatever, and the first thing he’d said was that he definitely wasn’t looking for an underage boyfriend. “I thought you were just in town to do a few shows. Auto - that’s my best friend - he heard you were from Detroit or somewhere.”

“Was. As in past tense. As in good riddance. Ever been ta Detroit?”

Cupid shook his head, but the sensation made him feel a little light-headed. Maybe he’d had too much beer at the show, or maybe this whole ‘casual sex’ thing was getting to be too much for him to handle. Either way he felt like he should sit down very, very soon.

“Yeah, well, yer not missin’ much, trust me. Xena’s from here, the chick that plays bass. Herc, Iolaus and me moved out like a month ago after our old bassist bailed on us ta get hitched.” Strife stopped talking and stared at him for a minute, his forehead creased as he watched the color drain out of Cupid’s face. “You okay, Cupe?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine,” Cupid answered, although he wasn’t at all sure he was fine. Strife living in New York didn’t change anything, but at the same time Cupid couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was happening that was bigger than both of them. He shook it off and told himself to stop being stupid or Strife really was going to start thinking he was just a kid. “Guess I just drank a little too much at the club or something.”

“Yeah? Ya wanna lie down?”

Strife’s mischievous grin was infectious, and Cupid found himself nodding as Strife stalked toward him. A pair of hands landed on his hips to push him backwards down the hall, and he focused all his attention on not tripping on any stray clothes and falling on his ass before they made it to Strife’s bed.



It didn’t seem right that such a young, wide-eyed kid should come in such a solid package, a body designed and groomed specifically for heartbreaking. And Cupid could break hearts, Strife was sure that any number of guys could easily fall in love with him. Not Strife, of course, because he wasn’t the type to waste a lot of energy on stuff like feelings, but there were definitely guys that could easily fall for Cupid’s looks combined with that shy smile and his cute attempts to act more street-smart than he was. Maybe Cupid had broken a heart or two already without even knowing it, but he’d never be the kind of guy that would do it on purpose.

Strife was pretty sure of at least that, because even though he didn’t really know the guy that well he could tell that Cupid really was as nice as he looked. So he worried; he worried about telling Cupid that he wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, and even though Cupid said that was fine he still worried about it. Mostly because Cupid was a good kid and Strife didn’t want to be the one to break his heart for the first time, but a little part of him felt kind of guilty for throwing the kid down on his bed no matter how willing he was. He didn't have a reason to feel guilty; this was why Cupid came to the city, and this was why he’d hung around the club long after the show ended. Strife still couldn’t help feeling a little like he was playing with something he’d been warned to keep his hands off, though, like when he was really little and his grandmother wouldn’t let him touch the shiny glass figurines in her living room.

Of course the first time he got his hands on one of them he broke it, and the guilt he felt over that was almost as bad as what he felt as he straddled Cupid’s waist and started pushing his tee shirt over his chest. The thing that was making him feel really bad wasn’t that he wanted Cupid, what really bothered him was that he knew he was going to go through with it even though he shouldn’t. It wasn’t so much that he thought he was so irresistible, he’d been turned down more than once. At first he’d really thought Cupid was kidding when he asked Strife to fuck him, it wasn’t like beautiful guys walked up and propositioned him every day. It happened, but not enough that he’d started getting used to it.

Strife kept trying to tell himself that Cupid was old enough to know what he was doing, but every time he thought it he pictured Cupid’s face when Strife asked him how old he was. He hated feeling guilty, and it was officially in danger of ruining his good time. The last thing he wanted to do while he had the kid stretched out in his bed was think about all the reasons they shouldn’t go through with this, so he pushed the thoughts as far back in his mind as they would go and focused on the hands that had managed to work their way under his shirt while he was distracted.

And he had to admit he really liked the way Cupid's hands felt on his skin, up under his ratty Agnostic Front tee shirt. He wouldn't even have minded so much if Cupid had just torn the damn thing off him, but he was surprisingly gentle in a way that almost translated as shyness. When Strife was in high school he was still back on 'fumbling' and 'awkward', so Cupid's gentle almost-confidence made him wonder exactly where the kid had learned what he knew. Not that it mattered, because this was just sex and Cupid didn't owe him any explanations. He reached for the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head, letting Cupid up long enough to get his shirt off too.

The sight of all that smooth, golden skin was enough to make him forget why he'd been hesitating a few moments ago, and when Cupid leaned forward and opened his mouth against Strife's neck he let out a low moan and threaded his fingers through blond hair. Cupid's mouth moving on his skin was the sweetest kind of torture, each little nip and kiss sending a shiver of anticipation straight to his groin. Part of him was screaming for him to hurry things up, to get them out of the rest of their clothes as quickly as possible so he could bury himself in that tight heat again. There was another part of him that kind of liked the idea of taking this slowly, though, and as Cupid's mouth worked its way down to tease his left nipple he decided he *really* liked that idea. So maybe he'd die of the sheer torture of letting Cupid taste every inch of him, or maybe he'd just come in his jeans like some kid. Either way he was suddenly determined to make it last, because this was the last time he was going to get the chance to do this.

It had to be the last time, because once with a high school kid was bad enough, but twice was pushing it. Three times - he'd never live that down, in fact if Herc and Iolaus figured out who he had in his bedroom he might not live tonight down. It was hard not to regret his decision to cut things off after tonight when Cupid was pressed against him, his arms wrapped firmly around Strife's back and his mouth moving to torture the neglected side of Strife's chest. He groaned and tightened his hands in Cupid's hair as he felt teeth tugging gently at his nipple ring, forcing the younger man to look up. When their eyes met he leaned forward, capturing full red lips with his own and teasing Cupid's mouth open with his tongue.

Even the way he tasted was addictive, beer and a hint of citrus mingled with a taste that was pure Cupid. Strife moaned and thrust forward instinctively, the sound turning to a frustrated groan when he failed to find the friction he was searching for. A second later Cupid's hands left his back to reach for his zipper, and before he had a chance to react his jeans and underwear were being shoved down his hips. He scrambled off Cupid's lap long enough to kick off his boots and socks, then he yanked his pants the rest of the way down and tossed them on the floor. When he turned back Cupid was working his way out of his own clothes, and Strife swallowed hard as he watched a pair of pinstriped boxers slide down Cupid's thighs and hit the floor.

Cupid was even more beautiful than he remembered, or maybe it was the fact that he wasn't in a hurry to get off and get back onstage tonight. He had a feeling he'd think Cupid was even more beautiful in the morning, though, and his stomach did a weird little flip at the thought of the younger man waking up in his bed. He couldn't just kick him out, he'd long since missed his train and Strife wasn't going to just throw him out in the middle of the night. Maybe bringing him back to the apartment hadn't been the best idea he'd ever had, but he couldn't quite talk himself into regretting it.

Then Cupid reached for him again and he stopped thinking at all and let himself be pulled forward, his knees on either side of Cupid's thighs as he pulled Strife down for another kiss. Strong hands moved across his back again, tracing the angles of his shoulders as Cupid pressed up against him. He found the friction he’d been looking for, a tortured groan escaping his throat as he ground down against the solid body underneath him. Cupid’s chest heaved underneath him, his hands gripping Strife’s hips hard enough to leave perfect, finger-shaped bruises as he tried to get them even closer. He could tell from the way Cupid was rocking urgently against him that this could be over before he was ready, so he tore his mouth away with a gasp and pulled back enough to look down into dark, unfocused eyes.

Which turned out to be a pretty bad idea, because he wasn’t prepared for the open, vulnerable expression on the kid’s face or the things it did to his stomach. Just looking at Cupid made him think things he knew he shouldn’t be thinking, and he had to swallow hard and tear his gaze away just to keep himself from saying something he’d definitely regret in the morning. He turned his attention to Cupid’s neck, leaning down and pressing his lips to the soft, golden skin he found there. And Cupid was still rocking helplessly against him, so he reached down and pressed a hand against his hip to hold him against the mattress. He got a needy little whimper for his trouble, and he grinned against Cupid’s skin and started working his way down to his collarbone.

He opened his mouth against the other boy’s skin, sucking hard until he was satisfied that the mark would last awhile. The thought of Cupid looking in the mirror or running his fingers over Strife’s mark while he was in the shower and remembering tonight made the pressure in Strife’s groin tighten, and he reached down and clamped a hand around the base of his cock until the worst of the urgency ebbed out of him. Once he had himself back under control he turned his attention back to the body pinned underneath him, ignoring Cupid’s wordless pleas for just a little more, just enough to take the edge off. There was no way he was letting Cupid come before he was ready, at least not if he could help it. He wanted to be inside Cupid when he finally let go, to hear it and feel it while he watched Cupid lose control.

His cock twitched in response to that thought but he ignored it and focused on the task at hand, namely tasting every inch of Cupid’s skin. He ran his tongue over the sensitive spot where Cupid’s armpit met his shoulder, breathing deeply to take in his heady, masculine scent. The skin just inside Cupid’s elbow was less salty than the skin on his neck, and by the time Strife lifted one of his hands and sucked his index finger between his lips Cupid’s head was practically thrashing against the pillow. As soon as he felt Strife’s mouth close around his finger he stopped moving except for an involuntary, minute thrusting of his hips, his eyes wide as he watched his finger disappear between Strife’s lips.

Judging by his expression Strife guessed that nobody had ever done this to him before, which wasn’t all that surprising considering. Still, the way Cupid’s lips parted and his body went almost completely still, his attention focused totally on Strife’s mouth as though he was mesmerized by the simple act of having his fingers sucked…Strife had to admit that it was pretty cool to watch. More than cool, it was a complete turn-on to know that he was the first person to ever do this to Cupid. Not that he wasn’t turned on just looking at Cupid. Or thinking about him. Pretty much the sound of his name could do it at this point, a fact that Strife was trying not to dwell on.

He let Cupid’s finger slip from his mouth at last, grinning at the dazed expression marring Cupid’s perfect features as he leaned forward and pressed their lips together again. Cupid surged up as soon as their lips touched, his hand clamping down on the back of Strife’s neck to hold him in place as he kissed him back almost brutally. When they finally parted to gasp for air Strife was careful to avoid meeting Cupid’s gaze, sure if he did that he’d lose it right then and there. Instead he pushed himself up on one elbow and ran his free hand down Cupid’s chest, splaying his fingers across Cupid’s stomach as he leaned forward to follow the trail of his hand with his mouth.

The body underneath his strained against him, Cupid’s fingers in his hair to guide Strife’s mouth to where he needed it most. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually bothered to take his time this way, in fact he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to. Every new sound that escaped Cupid’s throat made it worth it, though, and he grinned when Cupid’s fingers tightened even further in his hair. Finally he took pity on the younger man and settled between his legs, closing his fist around the base of Cupid’s cock. For a second he thought that touch alone might bring Cupid over the edge, but he increased the pressure of his grip and waited until the shuddering in Cupid’s body subsided.

When he was reasonably convinced that Cupid wasn’t going to lose it before he was ready Strife leaned forward, letting out a hot breath against the head of Cupid’s cock. It twitched in response and the hands in his hair tightened painfully for a second before Cupid mustered enough self-control to loosen his grip. His fingers began moving slowly in Strife’s hair, stroking the encouragement he couldn’t verbalize as Strife finally ran his tongue along Cupid’s length.

He rolled the new, slightly bitter flavor around on his tongue for a second before he closed his lips around the head of Cupid’s cock and slowly took as much of him as he could into his mouth. He could practically feel the pressure building in Cupid’s groin as he slid his mouth back up the other man’s length, and if the frustrated moans escaping Cupid’s throat were any indication, he wasn’t going to last much longer no matter how hard Strife tried to hold him off. With a final stroke he let Cupid fall from his mouth again, moving lower to nuzzle the soft skin of Cupid’s thighs as he pushed his legs further apart.

As soon as Cupid figured out what he was doing he pulled his knees up and apart, squeezing his eyes shut tight at the first brush of Strife’s tongue against the entrance to his body. Strife wished suddenly that he’d thought to track down a condom and the tube of lube he knew was somewhere in the room before they’d gotten started, because he wasn’t sure Cupid was going to be able to hold out much longer. He was already pressing down to try and get Strife’s tongue even further inside him, opening easily to the older man. Strife’s own cock was reaching the point of painfully hard, and when Cupid let out a low moan and gasped a barely coherent word Strife pulled back and scrambled for the only other piece of furniture in the room. It barely took thirty seconds for him to retrieve the lube and a condom from the top drawer of the small dresser that had been there when they moved in, but the entire time Cupid’s voice echoed in his head.

His barely audible *please* repeated over and over in Strife’s head, sending a shiver from the top of his spine straight to his groin as he climbed back onto the bed and settled between Cupid’s legs again. He should have been embarrassed at the way his fingers shook as he fumbled with the condom wrapper, but he was too busy focusing on not coming and ruining the moment. When he finally got the condom on he coated it with lube, gritting his teeth against the almost painful touch before he turned his attention to the boy stretched out on his bed.

When he looked down at Cupid again he paused, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of the younger man staring back at him, his knees drawn up and his fist around the base of his cock to keep himself from coming. He knew he should make Cupid flip over, that it would be a lot easier to keep himself from getting attached if he kept things as impersonal as possible. It was a little late for that, though, and suddenly he really, really wanted to watch Cupid’s face while he fucked him. It wasn’t something he usually even thought about, but right then the idea appealed to him in a way he wouldn’t have thought possible before he met Cupid.

He covered Cupid’s chest with his again, pushing the younger man’s hand out of the way as gently as possible before he leaned forward to press another kiss to Cupid’s lips. Which was another thing he knew he’d probably spend the whole day tomorrow wondering about, because it just wasn’t normal to want to keep kissing somebody he didn’t really even know. He pulled away with a gasp when he felt Cupid’s hand close around him for the first time, lining them up as the younger man thrust down to meet him. Before he regained control of his senses he found himself buried deep inside Cupid, and his knew his expression was betraying his shock. He couldn’t make himself care, though, not when Cupid was already moving against him.

With an uneven breath he reined in control of his emotions and pulled out, pausing long enough to look down at Cupid. Solid, muscular legs wrapped around his waist as Cupid’s eyes opened to gaze back at him, and that was enough to strip away his last shred of self-control. He reached between them to close his fist around Cupid’s length again, stroking hard in time to his thrusts. He set a relentless pace, his chest heaving with the exertion as Cupid met every stroke. It barely took any time at all before Cupid was tensing under him, thrusting even more wildly to try to draw Strife deeper. Strife’s grip tightened and he twisted his wrist just enough to surprise Cupid into losing control, burying himself as deep inside the younger man as he could while he rode out Cupid’s orgasm.

Cupid tightened convulsively around him, nearly drawing Strife over the edge with him as he moaned his release. Somehow Strife managed not to come, burying his face in Cupid’s neck and pressing frantic kisses against his skin as a pair of strong arms wrapped around him. Finally Cupid’s grip on him slackened and before he could stop himself he captured the other man’s mouth with his again, thrusting a little more urgently as Cupid’s lips parted under his. He had no idea until now what he’d been missing, but it turned out that making out with Cupid while he fucked him was even hotter than the first time they’d done this. Cupid was still breathing heavily but he thrust up to meet each of Strife’s strokes, moaning into Strife’s mouth every time the older man’s cock brushed against his prostate.

Finally Strife tore his mouth away from Cupid’s, his hands braced on either side of Cupid’s face as he stared down at him. Then Cupid reached up, his fingers caressing Strife’s face just above his cheekbone. The simple touch shouldn’t have had any affect on him, but before he knew it Strife was burying himself as deep as he could inside Cupid, his back arched as he screamed something he hoped to God wasn’t Cupid’s name. He vaguely registered the sound of heavy metal music coming from the opposite side of the wall, but his brain was fried by his orgasm so he didn’t think too hard about what that meant.

When the last wave of pleasure finally passed he collapsed against Cupid again, barely aware of the arms wrapping around him or the feather-soft kisses on his temple. All he knew was that his bones had melted at some point while he was coming, and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t ever be able to move again. Cupid didn’t seem to mind, though, so he didn’t bother to move out of the arms holding him tight against the other man’s sweat-slick chest. Only when Cupid shifted under him and let out a small hiss of what sounded like pain did Strife remember that he was still buried inside the blond, and he pulled out as carefully as possible and carefully removed the condom before he looked down at Cupid again.

For a long moment he studied Cupid’s face, searching for any signs that he’d been too rough. Cupid didn’t look like he was in pain, though; he looked sated and sleepy and suddenly younger than he actually was, but as far as Strife could tell he hadn’t broken him or anything. He swallowed a sigh and reached down to pull the sheet up over them, intent on settling down as far away from Cupid as he could get without actually looking like he was trying to keep his distance. The last thing he needed to do was cuddle with the kid, no matter how tempting it was. As it turned out there wasn’t a whole lot of room for him to go, though; Cupid took up a decent amount of space in the small bed, and when Strife turned to collapse on the mattress he found himself half on top of the other man.

He looked down to find Cupid watching him, his lips slightly parted and just as inviting as they’d been when Strife was still inside him. Before he could stop himself Strife braced his hands on either side of Cupid’s face again, freezing for a second when Cupid leaned up to meet him in a gentle kiss. The tenderness of it startled him, but he couldn’t stop himself from melting into the sensation. It was just the fact that his brain had melted out of his ear a few minutes ago, that was the only explanation he could come up with for why he was letting this happen. Whatever the reason it felt really good, though - better than good, it felt right in a way he hadn’t let himself think about since he first set his sights on making it in the music industry.

There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to regret this in the morning, a thought that sobered him enough to tear his mouth away from Cupid’s and look down at him again. He knew his eyes were wide and he probably looked either terrified or pissed, but when he registered Cupid’s expression his heart melted. Cupid’s big brown eyes were clear now, the lust-induced glaze was gone and it was obvious that he was bracing himself for Strife to say something he didn’t want to hear. Maybe he even thought Strife was going to be an asshole and kick him out, and Strife couldn’t really blame him for at least wondering if he was going to be allowed to spend the night.

Maybe he should have just let Cupid think he was a complete asshole, maybe he should have kissed him on the cheek and said something obnoxious like ‘thanks, kid’ before he tossed him his clothes and threw him out. He couldn’t do it, though, even if the very reason he couldn’t do it was the reason he should. He had no idea what Cupid thought about any of this and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know, but for some reason he couldn’t explain he didn’t want Cupid thinking he was a complete bastard. He swallowed the urge to mumble some excuse and leave Cupid to fall asleep in his bed alone, telling himself even as he leaned in for another kiss that he was just doing it so he didn’t have to keep looking at the younger man.

It was partly true, because he wasn’t sure he could stand to look into those eyes for much longer without just asking Cupid what he wanted. Doing that was as good as admitting that he’d be willing to consider anything other than exactly what this was: a one-night stand. It wasn’t going any further than that, no matter how good a kisser Cupid was or how good the sex was. In the morning everything would be totally normal again, all these weird sentimental feelings would go away and he could just tell Cupid that this was it. They weren’t seeing each other anymore and that was the end of it, Cupid knew it was coming so it shouldn’t even be hard.



Strife woke to the feeling of something soft tickling his cheek. He reached
up without opening his eyes to brush at whatever was tickling his skin, only
to find his fingers buried in the source of the softness. A voice muttered
something he couldn’t make out and he forced his eyes open, the night before
flooding back to him with startling clarity. He looked down to find Cupid
sprawled half across his chest, one strong arm draped over his waist and his
face pressed so far into Strife’s neck that he couldn’t see anything past a
shock of blond hair. He’d known when he told Cupid he could stay that it
was a bad idea, but this was too much. They were cuddling, for fuck’s sake.
Strife didn’t cuddle, he wasn’t even any good at sharing. Most of the
time he was accused of stealing the covers or kicking in his sleep. Of
course he didn’t have much chance to do either with a kid as solid as Cupid
pinning him to the mattress.

He knew he should wake Cupid up. It was light enough in the room to tell
him it was morning even if he couldn’t lift his head, and letting the kid
hang around was just delaying the inevitable. He lifted the hand that
wasn’t already in Cupid’s hair and reached out cautiously, tracing the curve
of Cupid’s shoulder. It was barely a touch, so soft that Cupid might not
even have felt it if he’d been awake. Strife told himself he was just being
gentle because he didn’t want to scare the other man, but there was a tiny
voice in the back of his head that kept insisting he kind of liked waking up
draped in Cupid.

It was ridiculous, of course. Sure, he *liked* Cupid, liked him enough to
take him to bed and not kick him out until morning. He wasn’t harboring any
secret feelings for the kid, though - hell, he barely even knew him. But it
had been a late night, and he couldn’t hear any movement from the rest of
the apartment so they hadn’t slept later than Herc and Iolaus. That was a
better reason than any to wake Cupid up and get him out of the apartment as
fast as possible, but instead of shaking the kid awake as he’d planned
Strife found himself stroking Cupid’s hair.

And now he was really losing it, because there was no way he should be
*petting* a one-night stand. He shouldn’t be doing anything that didn’t
involve getting up and getting the hell away from the solid warmth draped
all over him. He definitely should not be thinking about how hard it would
be to angle his head so he could kiss those full, red lips again, or what
would happen if Cupid woke up and realized that Strife was actually holding
him. He rolled his eyes at himself and let his hand fall back to the
mattress, succeeding in evoking another sleepy murmur from the body on top
of him.

This time instead of snuffling into his neck and going right back to sleep
Cupid shifted, his hand dipping dangerously low on Strife's hip as he
blinked and picked his head up off Strife's chest. And there it was, the
thing Strife had been afraid of since the moment he first laid eyes on
Cupid: that smile. Up-close and drowsy it was even more irresistible than
it had been the night before at the club, and before he could stop himself
Strife was angling forward to get another taste of those lips. He just
needed to erase that smile, or at least block it from his vision until he
got a handle on his reaction to it. There was no way he could wake up to
that look from someone as beautiful as Cupid and be expected to control
himself, it just wasn't right. The kid had a lethal weapon and he probably
didn't even know it, either that or he did the best innocent act Strife had
ever seen.

Stale beer and the tang on Cupid's tongue told Strife he wasn't dreaming,
that this wasn't just some fantasy his overactive imagination had cooked up
because he was bored with the daily grind of trying to make it in the New
York club scene. Which meant that Cupid really was in his bed, and he
really was still a high school senior. That knowledge was better than a
bucket of ice water, and Strife pulled away with a gasp and fell back
against the pillows again. "Uh…"

"Yeah." Somehow it didn't matter that they sounded like a couple of idiots,
because Strife could tell just by looking at Cupid that he knew exactly what
was going on. So he hadn't woken up with any dreamy, romantic notions about
Strife falling in love with him just because they'd fooled around a couple
times. That didn't make him any less young and innocent, and it didn't make
Strife any more available for some messy romantic entanglement. "Mind if I
take a shower before I leave? It's like a two hour train ride."

Well he hadn't thought of that, but he could hardly ask Cupid to put his
clothes back on and get the hell out without at least lending him a
toothbrush. That would be almost as heartless as kicking him out after they
had sex, and he definitely wasn't a heartless guy. He stared up at the
younger man for another moment, weighing his options before answering.
"You…uh…ya mind sharing?"

The grin returned almost as bright as it had been before Cupid woke up
completely, and he didn't even need to hear the kid's answer to know he
didn't mind at all. The way he saw it this was really the best way for
everybody - Cupid got to clean up before he hit the road, and Strife might
still have a prayer of getting him out of the apartment before Herc and
Iolaus saw him. Besides, there was no way he could pass up a shot at a
little more 'quality' time with the kid. He grinned back and squirmed out
from underneath Cupid, digging around in his closet until he found two
reasonably clean towels.

Cupid followed him into the bathroom so quietly that Strife wondered if
maybe he didn't really want to run into his roommates, but he shrugged off
the question and shut the bathroom door behind them. It was a tight squeeze
in the small space, especially with a guy Cupid's size, but he managed to
squeeze his way past the younger man and turn on the shower. While the
water was warming up he reached around Cupid and picked up his toothbrush
and a tube of toothpaste, offering it to Cupid first.

Judging by the size of Cupid's grin Strife might as well have offered him
the keys to a Porsche, but the kid's gratitude over even dumb little things
like a toothbrush did things to his stomach he didn't want to think about.
He leaned back against the bathroom door and watched the muscles in Cupid's
back flex as he brushed his teeth, admiring the view of Cupid's bare ass
when he bent over enough to spit and rinse his mouth.

"Thanks," Cupid said when he handed the toothbrush back to Strife.

"No problem," Strife answered, swallowing the word 'kid' before it could
escape his mouth. "You can get in if ya want."

Cupid smiled again and pulled back the shower curtain, testing the water
before he stepped inside and closed the curtain behind him. Once he was
more or less alone Strife glanced at his reflection in the mirror, scowling
to erase the practically giddy grin lighting up his eyes. He was not
grinning about the overgrown teenager in his shower, he was *not*. He was
just being nice, there was no law against that. As long as nobody found out
about it, anyway. With a final shake of his head he brushed his teeth and
rinsed, taking a deep breath to steel his nerves before he pulled the shower
curtain back and climbed into the shower with Cupid.

And damn, the kid looked even more beautiful wet. There had to be a God,
and He really fucking hated Strife. It was the only explanation for handing
him something so tempting that he didn't even have to do any work to get,
and attaching a whole mess of strings that Strife was in no mood to deal
with. Life just wasn't fair, and it was just his luck that instead of just
falling off the stage and breaking a leg or losing his voice that he got a
shower full of way too tempting teenager.

If he'd had a chance he might have made a quick exit, but no sooner did he
step under the spray than he found himself backed up against the wall and
draped in Cupid again. His hands went up to grip wet hair as Cupid's mouth
landed on his neck, his lips parting to suck hard on Strife's skin. Strife
barely felt the water hitting his chest as Cupid pulled back to examine his
work, satisfying himself that the mark would last before he began working
his way down the older boy's body. He slid to his knees in a single, fluid
motion, evoking a gasp from Strife as a hand closed around his quickly
hardening cock and began to stroke.

As soon as Cupid leaned forward and took his first tentative taste Strife
couldn't believe he'd almost let the kid walk out of his life without ever
getting him on his knees. Then he remembered what it felt like to be inside
Cupid and he bucked into the younger man's mouth, forcing his eyes open long
enough to make sure he hadn't hurt him. Cupid's hands landed on Strife's
hips to hold him still, but his mouth was still moving up and down Strife's
length with enthusiasm. Strife knew he should just close his eyes and enjoy
the blow job, but he couldn't stop himself from reaching out and running a
hand through hair made dark blond by the shower. "Cupe," he gasped, barely
loud enough for Cupid to hear. "Look at me."

Cupid did as he was told almost before Strife asked, his big brown eyes
glazed with lust as he met the older boy's gaze. Strife swallowed hard and
told himself to look away, that it was way too intense to keep staring into
those eyes. He couldn't bring himself to do it, though, not when just the
sight of his cock sliding in and out of Cupid's mouth was enough to fuel his
fantasies for the next month. When he felt the pressure in his groin
building to a climax his fingers tightened reflexively in Cupid's hair, and
before he knew what was happening a hand reached behind him to cup his ass.
He felt a finger slide between his cheeks, but until it slid inside him he
didn't even think about what Cupid might have in mind.

Most of the time he thought of himself as a top, but the thought of Cupid
fucking him was enough to drive him over the edge, and he clamped down hard
on the finger buried inside him as he came in Cupid's mouth. He slumped
back against the shower wall, barely aware of the finger pulling out of him
or the fact that Cupid was standing up to cover Strife's body with his
again.

"Strife," Cupid whispered in his ear, his own need digging into Strife's
thigh as the younger man thrust minutely against him, "I really want…"

Strife cut him off with a hard kiss, tasting himself on Cupid's tongue as he
plundered the other boy's mouth. When he finally released him he opened his
eyes and instantly wished he hadn't, because if Cupid kept looking at him
like that there was no way he was getting out of this shower a single man.
"Top drawer," he said, pushing Cupid less than gently in the direction of
the sink. "Hurry."

Cupid didn't waste any time producing a condom, and Strife turned and braced
himself against the shower wall so he wouldn't be tempted to watch Cupid's
face while he rolled the condom on. He felt his legs being nudged apart
gently, then Cupid's forehead was pressed against his shoulder and he felt a
soft kiss being pressed against his spine. The kid was so goddamn *nice*
that Strife found himself wanting to cry, which didn't make any sense so he
swallowed hard and focused on the distracting sensation of Cupid's cock
slowly sliding inside him. Only even that was gentle, or maybe more shy
like Cupid had never actually done this before and he was afraid of breaking
him.

"Cupe?"

"Yeah?" Ragged, uneven voice, and Strife smiled in spite of himself.

"Ya evah done this before?"

"Jesus…" Sharp intake of breath as Strife thrust back to make his point,
drawing Cupid as far inside as he could get. "Not…not exactly."

"Well ya don't *exactly* hafta be so gentle," Strife said, suddenly
unreasonably pleased to be the first guy Cupid had ever fucked. "I can take
it."

Another sharp inhale was his only answer, then strong hands clamped down on
his hips and Cupid pulled out almost all the way. He paused for one
excruciating second before slamming back into Strife again, a sharp gasp
escaping his throat as he buried himself to the hilt. Strife swallowed a
surprised gasp and scrambled for a decent grip on the tiles, but they were
too slick and there was no way he was going to live through this anyway.
Cupid probably wouldn't last long, but damn if the kid wasn't a natural.
The angle was perfect to get him as deep as possible, the tip of his cock
brushing Strife's prostate with each stroke. It was almost like their
bodies were molded for each other…but he wasn't gonna start thinking drippy
shit like that, no matter how good Cupid was. It wasn't romantic and it
didn't have anything to do with love or fate or any of that other shit, it
was just a good fuck. An extraordinary fuck. Almost as good as when he'd
kissed Cupid while he fucked him the night before.

He braced himself for an especially wild thrust, clamping down hard on Cupid
just to hear him moan. Hell, he even liked the sound of the kid's moans,
and there had to be something wrong with that. He could definitely get used
to being the reason Cupid made that sound, but that was the problem, wasn't
it? Because every time he started to think that maybe they could see each
other just one more time he remembered that Cupid was still some kid from
the 'burbs, and he still had an image that he'd worked really hard for. It
sucked, but that was the way it had to be.

Way too soon Cupid tensed against him, burying himself as deep as he could
get in Strife and moaning his release against the back of Strife's neck.
When he found himself wishing he'd let Cupid go bareback he knew he was
really in trouble, and he nudged the body that was plastered to his back
less than gently. "Cupe, come on. Ya weigh like twice as much as me."

He was surprised to find that it hurt a little when Cupid pulled out of him,
but it had been awhile and that was definitely the most enthusiastic fuck
he'd ever had. Besides, it wouldn't be so bad to be able to feel Cupid
inside him for the rest of the day, and he knew every time he sat down he'd
remember this moment. Slowly he turned to face the other boy, rolling his
eyes at himself when his heart skipped a beat. He watched Cupid pull the
condom off and reach around the shower curtain to toss it in the trash can,
hating himself even as he reached out and pulled the younger man back toward
him.

Cupid looked surprised when Strife pulled him down for another kiss, but he
wrapped his arms around the smaller man and parted his lips. And fuck, did
he taste good, which was something else Strife was definitely going to miss
about him. He was actually going to miss the kid, despite the fact that
they'd never even really had a conversation. Reluctantly he pulled away and
reached for the shampoo, pouring some into his hand before he handed it to
Cupid. "Gotta wash all this crap outta my hair," he said, scowling at the
wet, sticky mass of hair gel and sweat that used to resemble hair.

"Let me," Cupid said from behind him, not bothering to wait for an answer
before he pushed Strife's hands out of the way and started massaging his
scalp. He would have been embarrassed at the fact that Cupid massaging his
scalp was making him hard if just hearing Cupid's name didn't make him hard.
He was pretty much screwed either way, because if he let Cupid hang around
it could cost him his career, and if he didn't it could cost him…well,
Cupid. Which at the moment seemed like a much bigger loss than whatever it
was he did for a living, not that he could remember while Cupid's fingers
were working the shampoo through his hair.

He was so lost in the ecstasy of the strong hands on his scalp that he
didn't hear the bathroom door open, but when Cupid's fingers froze in his
hair he knew something was wrong. There was no time to react, to move away
from the kid or even try to pretend they weren't doing exactly what they
were doing before the shower curtain opened.

"Strife, we fucking agreed no sex in the…holy shit." Iolaus stopped
mid-sentence, mouth hanging open as he stared, wide-eyed at Cupid. "Fucking
Jailbait? I mean…fuck, Strife…"

"Dude, fuck off," Strife growled, shoving Iolaus hard and yanking the shower
curtain shut again. He hadn't forgotten about the no-sex-in-the-bathroom
rule, not exactly anyway. It had just slipped his mind, probably because he
was so worried about getting Cupid out of the apartment before either of his
roommates saw them. He knew they'd heard Strife the night before, that was
the reason the heavy metal music had gotten louder all of a sudden. But
they didn't know *who* he'd brought home with him, and he'd been hoping to
keep it that way. There was no way he was living this down now, and he
couldn't even enjoy the fact that Iolaus had actually volunteered to walk in
on him and some guy having sex in the shower. The whole reason for the rule
was so that Herc and Iolaus wouldn't have to see it, at least that was what
they'd said. Of course getting an eyeful of naked and wet Cupid might have
been what rendered Iolaus speechless for the moment, but he wouldn't stay
that way forever, no matter how many secret fantasies he was hiding from
Hercules.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, reaching up to run a hand through his
hair and coming up with a handful of suds. He frowned down at his hand,
then scowled and stepped back under the water to wash the shampoo out.
"Fuck."

"Strife?"

Even worse, he could hear the uncertainty creeping into Cupid's voice, and
he couldn't believe that a few minutes ago he'd actually been contemplating
keeping the kid around. This was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid,
and Cupid was quickly becoming a major complication. He forced his eyes
open and pushed a mass of wet bangs off his forehead, letting out a deep
sigh as he met Cupid's gaze. "Look, Cupe, it's been fun, but I told ya,
relationships just ain't my thing."

"That is such bullshit," Cupid accused, brown eyes that had looked so
innocent a moment ago narrowing dangerously. "I never asked you for
anything, did I? I knew the score when I came over here, and I never
pretended I didn't. You're the one trying to get away with something. You
just didn't want your friends to know you slept with me, did you?"

"Cupe, calm down," Strife said, his pulse picking up speed as he watched
Cupid's cheeks flush. He wasn't even sure what to do with an angry, naked,
dripping wet teenager, especially one that was twice his size. "There's a
lotta shit ya wouldn't understand…"

"Fuck you," Cupid interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest and looking
away. For a second he looked so much like one of those Greek statues that
Strife was almost sure he was going to wake up any second now, but then he
started talking again and ruined the affect. "I might still be in high
school, but I'm not a moron. You're embarrassed because I’m younger than
you, right? Your friends found out how old I am and you didn't want them to
know you actually liked me."

Well. Stupid he wasn't, and Strife found himself blinking as he struggled
for something to say. There was really no way out of this, not when Cupid
already had his number. The water pelting against his back started to turn
cold, and he reached up to rub his temples where they'd begun to ache. "I
was just tryin' ta keep things simple," he finally said. What he really
wished was that Cupid would get mad and storm out of the bathroom, leaving
Strife alone to lean against the shower wall and will himself to disappear.

"How old are you?" Cupid's voice was dangerously low, and for the first
time since they'd met Strife felt completely out of control of the
situation.

"What tha fuck does that matter?"

"Just answer the question."

Strife took a deep breath and looked down, suddenly feeling a little stupid
about the whole situation. Cupid was hot, he was old enough to know what he
was doing, and if Strife liked him…but that was the thing. Did he like him
enough to put up with the shit his friends were going to give him? "Cupe,
ya don't understand. It's a punk band, ya don't know…"

"Answer the fucking question."

"Fine. I'm 20, ya feel betta now?"

He looked up at Cupid, eyes flashing defiantly as he met the other boy's
stormy gaze. For a minute they stood there, less than two feet apart and
both of them soaking wet. Then Cupid's eyes narrowed even more and his jaw
clenched, and before Strife could react he was out of the shower. He didn't
stop to dry himself off, he just grabbed his towel and yanked the bathroom
door open. Strife was caught between just letting him go and following him
to try to make him understand, but in the end he was too cold to stand in
the shower anymore. He let out a sigh and turned off the water, running his
towel over his hair before he wrapped it around his waist and followed Cupid
into his bedroom. By the time he got there Cupid was nearly dressed, his
hair pushed off his face as he leaned down to tie his boots. Strife's
stomach twisted at the thought of Cupid walking away hating him, and before
he could stop himself he was talking again.

"Cupe, ya don't get it. It's not about yer age…I mean high school…but yer
right, it's just a coupla years. It's not that, it's the band…"

"I could care less about your stupid fucking band," Cupid said, not
bothering to look at Strife as he pulled his jacket on and headed for the
door.

"Cupe, come on," Strife tried again, not stopping long enough to worry about
whether or not he sounded like he was begging. Somewhere in the back of his
mind was a voice telling him that this was what he'd wanted, that Cupid was
walking away and that solved all his problems. Another, far less rational
part of him couldn't stand the thought of Cupid going back to his suburb to
spend the rest of his life hating him, though, and that part of him appeared
to have temporary control of his mouth and his legs. "Woulda just listen?"

His hand was on the front door before his pride caught up with him, but he
knew better than to think he could actually stop Cupid from leaving if he
really wanted to. For a second when Cupid stopped next to him and looked
down at the floor Strife's heart leapt - it actually *leapt* - and it scared
him so much that he straightened up and took a step backwards. That was
enough for Cupid to look over at him, disappointment clear in his eyes.
"See you around, Strife," he said, pulling the door open and slamming it
behind him.

As soon as he was gone Strife squared his shoulders and told himself it was
exactly what he'd wanted the entire time. He'd just lost his mind for a
little while there because Cupid was so beautiful and he had such an amazing
mouth, but that was nothing to base a relationship on. He could think of
worse reasons, but still…he swallowed a sigh and ignored the two pairs of
eyes he could feel on him, turning toward his bedroom before either of his
roommates got a chance to say anything about the scene they'd just
witnessed. He wasn't in the mood to explain to them why he'd practically
begged Cupid not to leave, and he definitely wasn't in the mood to listen to
them rehash all the reasons why he should be glad he had left.



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

Once Cupid found himself out on the sidewalk the anger and righteous
indignation began to waver, and disappointment crept in to take its place.
He hadn’t really meant to storm out of the apartment, and maybe if Strife
had tried a little harder to talk him into staying he would have changed his
mind. Two stupid years - it would have been funny, he would have laughed if
Strife hadn’t been trying to hide him from his roommates. Strife wasn’t
even old enough to be in any of the clubs he played, and he was embarrassed
by the fact that he was involved with a guy two lousy years younger than
him.

Okay, so it might have been closer to three years, because Cupid had a
couple months to go until his birthday and he had no idea when Strife turned
21. But that didn’t change the fact that the guy Cupid really thought he
might have some actual feelings for was embarrassed by him. Which
completely sucked - it more than sucked, it was totally unfair and he
couldn’t believe Strife was so concerned with what his friends thought of
him. Thinking about that just reminded him of how little he really knew
about Strife, and he rolled his eyes and told himself to stop being so
dramatic. It wasn’t like they were dating, it was just sex. So really he
shouldn’t even care what Strife or his stupid friends thought of him.

He let out a frustrated sigh and turned in the direction of the subway
station, thankful that at least Strife lived in a part of the city Cupid was
marginally familiar with. It wasn’t the greatest neighborhood, but it could
be a lot worse and he was just a few stops down from where he’d have to
transfer to go to his dad’s place. He’d half-expected to end up there the
night before, it had seemed like a much more real possibility than falling
asleep in Strife’s bed, anyway. Not that he’d ever expected to be invited
back to Strife’s place, but waking up with him had been so…he couldn’t even
find the words for it. He blushed just thinking about it. And that kiss…it
wasn’t fair that what had started out as the most perfect morning of his
life was turning out to be completely miserable.

It was the first time he’d ever spent the whole night with somebody, and the
romantic, irrational part of him wanted to believe that it was special in
some way. Of course that was the part of him that Strife was probably
trying to avoid, and could he really blame him? It was stupid to think like
that about somebody he barely knew, but it didn’t make him wish for it any
less. Only now he didn’t know what he wished, because as mad as he’d been
when he stormed out of Strife’s apartment, part of him really, *really*
wanted to go back there and prove to Strife that he wasn’t just some dumb
kid.

Hadn’t he already done that, though? Was it possible Strife could still
think of him as just some kid after the night they’d spent together? The
whole thing was starting to make his head hurt, and he knew he couldn’t face
a two-hour train ride back to Jersey until he at least took some aspirin.
By the time he reached the train platform he’d decided to take a chance that
his dad was home, even if it meant explaining what he was doing in the city
by himself on a Sunday morning. Not that he was really in the mood for one
of his father’s lectures, but he liked his dad’s boyfriend and if anybody
could make him feel better about the whole Strife mess they could. He
certainly couldn’t count on his friends to cheer him up after the last
conversation he’d had with them, and his mother would be too busy killing
him for going into the city alone to listen to him whine about his miserable
love life.

By the time he reached his father’s apartment he was feeling sorry enough
for himself to forget how mad he was at Strife. He was tired, his head hurt
and all he really wanted to do was stretch out on his dad’s couch and whine
about how much his life sucked. The nice thing about hanging out at his
dad’s place was that he could do just that, and his father’s boyfriend would
listen and even offer sympathy. His father mostly just lectured him on how
much better he was than the losers he went out with, but sometimes even that
made him feel better.

Less than three seconds after he rang the buzzer for his father’s place the
door opened, and he found himself face to face with his father’s live-in
boyfriend. “Cupid, what are you doing here? Are you alright?”

“Yeah. No. I don’t know,” Cupid answered miserably, running a hand through
still-damp hair as he wondered exactly how bad he looked. “Is my dad home?”

“Sure, he’s upstairs. I was just on my way to get a paper and some bagels,
go on up.”

“Thanks, Joxer.” Cupid smiled half-heartedly, ignoring the curious and
slightly worried expression on the older man’s face as he brushed past him
and headed up the stairs. He knocked on the door before trying the knob,
frowning when the door to his father’s apartment swung open. “Dad?”

“Cupid? What are you doing here?”

Cupid followed the sound of the voice into the kitchen, smiling in spite of
himself at the sight of his large, dangerous-looking father humming to
himself over a cappuccino machine. “Dad, you can’t keep leaving the door
unlocked. You’ve lived in the city for years, you should know better by
now.”

“Joxer just ran to the store, he didn’t want to take his keys. Besides, I
seriously doubt anyone would break in here. And it’s not like I can’t
handle it.” His father turned around, crossing his arms over his chest as
he leaned against the counter. “Now why don’t you explain to me what you’re
doing in the city at this hour on a Sunday.”

Cupid frowned and sank into one of the wooden chairs surrounding the kitchen
table, sighing dramatically as he planted his elbows on the table and
covered his face with his hands. “Don’t freak out.”

A smirk turned up the edges of the older man’s mouth as Cupid peered up at
him from under messy blond bangs. “Since when do I ‘freak out’?”

“The first time you met Auto and Psyche you kinda freaked out.”

“Well I thought he was your boyfriend. Anyone would have freaked out if
their son came home with *that* kid.”

“Dad.”

“I know, I know, he’s your friend. He still gives me the creeps. I don’t
know why you hang around those two.”

“Now you sound like Mom.” Cupid grinned at the expression on his father’s
face, his mood lifting already thanks to the familiar argument. His friends
and their unworthiness was pretty much the only subject his parents did
agree on, and Cupid used that piece of knowledge to his advantage whenever
possible. In a way he understood why his parents didn’t approve of his
friends; until he started hanging around with Auto and Psyche he’d been the
quiet, studious type, and his parents probably weren’t prepared for him to
start wearing leather and piercing various parts of his body. Not that he’d
moved beyond his ears yet, but he’d been thinking about it for awhile.
Strife’s nipple ring was pretty cool, and Auto kept daring him to get his
tongue pierced.

But thinking about Strife wasn’t a good idea, because as soon as he did the
ache in his chest settled back in and his grin faded. He didn’t realize how
pathetic he looked until his father crossed the distance between them and
pulled out the chair next to his, his features marred with worry as he
rested a strong hand on Cupid’s shoulder. “What’s the matter? Did you have
a fight with your Mom?”

“No,” Cupid answered, wishing suddenly that it was something as simple as
arguing with his mother about his clothes or his friends or one of the
hundred other things that annoyed her about him. “I met this guy.”

“Oh.” His father shifted uncomfortably in his chair and glanced longingly
toward the entrance to the kitchen, and Cupid knew without asking that he
was wishing Joxer would hurry up and get back from the store. His dad had
never been that comfortable giving him advice about his love life, but it
wasn’t like his mom really understood. She tried, but most of the time
Cupid got the feeling that his being gay just reminded her of how much it
hurt when she found out his father was cheating on her with a man. Of all
the adults in his life Joxer was really the best at giving him advice on
this stuff; he’d been the one to help Cupid the most during his awkward
coming out process, and he made a great go-between when they had to break
the news to Cupid’s father that he wasn’t as innocent as they all wanted to
pretend he still was.

“He’s in this band, War Bastards.”

“That’s the name of a band?”

“They’re a punk band.”

“I see. So you met this boy at one of your clubs?”

“Yeah.”

A heavy sigh escaped the older man’s throat, and he leaned back in his chair
and stared critically at his son. “You know how I feel about those places,
Cupid. I know kids today have fake IDs but…”

“Dad, I’ve heard the lecture a thousand times already,” Cupid interrupted
before his father could launch into what Cupid had come to think of as the
‘safe sex/anti-drugs’ lecture. He knew his father didn’t really have a lot
of room to talk in the safe sex department, at least if the stuff he’d
overheard his mother telling her friends when his parents first split up was
any indication. That didn’t make it any less embarrassing, and he felt the
tips of his ears heat up as a blush spread from his cheeks outward. “This
isn’t about that. At least I didn’t think it was.”

He paused when he heard the front door open, sending up a silent prayer of
thanks for Joxer’s good timing. They both looked up expectantly when he
walked into the kitchen, a bag of bagels in one arm and a Sunday paper
tucked under the other. “They didn’t have any cinnamon raisin left, so I
got you apple cinnamon instead. Am I interrupting?”

“Cupid was just telling me about the boy he met.”

Cupid rolled his eyes at his father’s dramatic tone, glancing at Joxer in a
silent plea for help. He’d always been grateful that his father had finally
met someone he could actually settle down with, but he’d never been more
grateful than he was when Joxer took the hint. “Ares, be nice. When’s the
last time Cupid’s told you about one of his boyfriends? You know why, too.
You always overreact.”

“I do not overreact,” Ares said. “I can’t help it if nobody’s good enough
for him.”

Joxer smiled indulgently at Ares and leaned forward for a kiss before he
straightened up again and set the bagels and newspaper on the table. “So
tell us about this guy, Cupid,” he said as he headed for the cappuccino
machine to finish the coffee Ares had forgotten about. “What’s he like?”

“He’s a complete jerk. I hate him,” Cupid said before he could stop
himself. He knew as soon as he said it that he sounded like a spoiled
little kid that hadn’t gotten what he wanted for his birthday, but he was
too tired and miserable to care. Strife was a jerk, he wasn’t worth
worrying about and Cupid knew better than to pine over some guy that didn’t
even care about his feelings. It was hard to just turn off his feelings,
though, no matter how much he wanted to. “At first I thought he was great,
you know? He’s really cool, and he’s got the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen,
and his voice…but he had to go and be a total jerk just because he’s a
couple years older than me.”

“Older? How much older?”

Cupid’s heart skipped a beat at the edge in his father’s voice, and he
looked down at his hands so he wouldn’t have to see the older man’s glare.
“He’s only twenty, Dad. It’s not that big a deal. Well, I guess he thinks
it is, since he was too embarrassed to let his friends see us together.”

“Twenty? Sounds like he at least has some common sense. He’s too old for
you, Cupid. You’re better off without him.”

“Ares,” Joxer chimed in gently, but Cupid could hear the warning behind the
single word. “It’s only two years, and Cupid will be eighteen in less than
three months. My nephew’s twenty, and Cupid’s more mature than he is.”

“I know, I know, he’s not a little kid anymore.” Ares sighed and looked
over at Cupid, frowning as though he was seeing how much Cupid had grown for
the first time. It was obvious that they’d had this conversation before,
and Cupid couldn’t help wondering how much time they spent talking about
him. Suddenly he wished he really was just a kid again, and he swallowed
hard against the lump that rose in his throat.

“It doesn’t even matter, it’s not like I’m ever going to see him again,”
Cupid muttered, his gaze fixed on the table so he wouldn’t have to look at
his father. “He made it pretty clear that he wasn’t interested in a
relationship.”

A warm cup of coffee appeared in front of him, and Cupid smiled gratefully
up at Joxer as he wrapped his hands around the mug. The coffee and his
headache were only part of the reason he’d gone to his father’s apartment
instead of just going straight home from Strife’s place. As much as it
embarrassed him to hear his father tell him that no one was good enough for
him, it felt pretty good to know that someone thought that much of him.
Right on cue his father cleared his throat and stood up, retrieving a tub of
butter and some plates before he turned back to Cupid. “He’s not good enough
for you, you know.”

“You say that about everybody.” Cupid supplied his line without hesitation,
grinning over the rim of his coffee cup when his father smiled at him.

“That’s because it’s true,” Ares said, reaching over to ruffle Cupid’s hair
before he turned away to find a knife for the butter. “Seriously, Cupid,
aren’t there any nice boys at your school? It’s not safe, picking up kids
in the clubs.”

“There’s Auto.” Cupid shrugged and reached for a plate, watching his
father’s expression out of the corner of one eye as he dug in the bag of
bagels.

Ares grimaced at the mention of Auto, shaking his head as he sank back into
his chair and handed Cupid the butter knife. “Never mind. There’s got to
be someplace you could meet kids your own age without risking your health.
You could join a club or something.”

“What, like a gay singles club or something? Dad, come on.”

“There’s college,” Joxer interjected. He set another cup of coffee down in
front of Ares before pulling out a chair and setting his own cup of coffee
on the table. “There will be some type of support group there. Not a
singles club, but at least you’ll meet kids your age that are going through
the same experiences.”

Cupid managed a weak grin in Joxer’s direction, but he didn’t bother to tell
them that he wasn’t at all sure he’d meet anyone at college that could hold
his interest for long. The truth was that Strife had been the first guy
he’d ever met that he liked enough to want to pursue, and that had ended
before it really even started. So now he was stuck with the embarrassment
of knowing that not only had his friends been right to worry about him, but
that all of Strife’s friends were laughing at him for acting like a stupid
groupie. And the worst part was that he was probably going to compare
everyone he met to Strife from now on, which meant a lifetime of
disappointment.

A strong hand landed in his hair and he found himself leaning into the
comforting touch, letting his father stroke his hair the way he’d done when
Cupid was still a kid and he woke up in his dad’s new apartment after a
nightmare. Once he got over the trauma of his parents’ divorce the
nightmares had stopped, but whenever he was brooding about something his dad
always tried to make him feel better by stroking his hair. Usually Cupid
blushed and pulled away, muttering something about his father needing to get
a dog. He couldn’t bring himself to protest today, though, so he let his
dad think he was helping.

“If this guy’s worth it he’ll come around, son,” Ares said. His hand left
Cupid’s hair to grip his shoulder sympathetically for a moment before he
pulled away completely. “And if he doesn’t you’ll meet someone else. I
know it probably doesn’t seem possible now, but you just wait and see.”

“I know. Thanks, Dad,” Cupid said, managing what he hoped was a convincing
smile. “I should probably call Mom and tell her where I am. She thinks I
spent the night at Auto’s, the last thing I need is her calling around
looking for me and freaking out when she finds out I lied.”

“That reminds me,” Ares said, his expression hardening as he leaned back and
crossed his arms over his chest. “What exactly are you doing coming into
the city by yourself?”

“I wasn’t by myself,” Cupid answered automatically, but as soon as he
realized what he’d said he groaned and rolled his eyes at himself. “Come
on, Dad, I’m not a little kid, you just said so yourself. I know what I’m
doing.”

“I’m starting to think you don’t. What do you really know about this guy,
Cupid? You’re roaming the streets of New York at night, not to mention
those clubs you hang out in. They’re not exactly in the best
neighborhoods.”

Cupid laughed and stood up, his mood lifting a little as he listened to the
familiar lecture. “Relax, Dad, I wasn’t ‘roaming the streets’. Besides,
nothing happened.”

“This time,” Ares called after him as Cupid made his way into the living
room to call his mother. He shook his head and dialed the number, taking a
deep breath as the line connected.

“Hey, Mom,” he began, praying he’d manage to sound convincing enough to get
his story past her. “I’m at Dad’s, I called so you wouldn’t worry. Auto
and I had a fight and I needed to talk to Dad, so I caught the early train
this morning.”

He held his breath as he listened to her fire off a series of questions
about whether or not he was okay and what they’d been arguing about that he
couldn’t discuss with his father over the phone. He only heard half her
questions, but he tried to focus enough to make his answers believable. As
long as she didn’t find out the real reason he was in the city he’d be okay,
and that meant keeping her from calling Auto’s house looking for him. As
soon as he convinced everyone that he was fine he could put this whole mess
with Strife behind him, and then he could start working on forgetting he’d
ever laid eyes on the pale, thin singer with impossibly blue eyes.



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

*Stupid Cupid You're a real mean guy
I'd like to clip your wings so you can't fly
I'm in love and it's a crying shame
And I know that you're the one to blame
Hey Hey Set me Free
Stupid Cupid stop picking on me*

When they started performing ‘Stupid Cupid’ back in Detroit Strife had just
thought it was funny to do a punk version of his mom’s favorite oldies song.
He liked the song, he’d always thought it was catchy, but since he met
Cupid the lyrics had taken on a whole new meaning. Still, he had a show to
do, so he belted the song out with his usual flourish, ignoring the image of
a tall, perfect blond that stubbornly refused to go away no matter how hard
he tried to focus on the crowd in front of the stage.

*You mixed me up but good, right from the very start
Hey, go play Robin Hood with somebody else's heart*

Whenever he did manage to focus on the crowd he found himself searching for
a glimpse of familiar blond hair or a broad, well-muscled chest covered in
cotton stretched just thin enough to leave room for his imagination to fill
in the blanks. Only he didn’t need to imagine what was under Cupid’s tee
shirt, because he’d had a close-up, personal view more times than he ever
expected to.

*You got me jumpin' like a crazy clown
And I don't feature what you're puttin' down
Since I kissed his lovin' lips of wine
The thing that bothers me is that I like it fine
Hey, hey, set me free
Stupid Cupid, stop pickin' on me*

The last line of the song escaped his lips with even more bitterness than
usual, and he was thankful it was a punk version so no one would notice the
difference. Part of him regretted making that the band’s signature song,
not that he could have known that he’d actually meet a real live guy named
Cupid. Or that he’d turn out to be so hot. Or so nice. Or that Strife
would find a way to screw things up with him on such a grand scale that he
had no hope of fixing them.

Which was the real bitch of it, because he found himself wanting to fix it.
That was the reason he kept searching the sea of faces in front of him on
the slim chance that Cupid might actually show up at one of their shows.
Not that he really expected Cupid to show up anywhere that he might actually
run into Strife, and even if he did wander into their show by accident
Strife had no idea what to say to him. ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t really seem like
enough, and he was pretty sure ‘I’m a jerk’ and ‘you were right’ weren’t
going to get him very far either. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to bring
himself to ask Cupid for another chance, though, because he didn’t even know
if that was what he wanted.

He set the microphone back in its stand as the set ended, barely noting the
screams of the crowd or the excited expressions on his bandmates’ faces. He
knew word was getting around about them and the crowds at their shows got a
little bigger every time they played, but lately he couldn’t make himself
care. The fact was that he felt bad for the way he’d acted, and even if
he’d managed to push Cupid away he couldn’t convince himself that it was for
the best. He didn't want to keep wanting Cupid, but it wasn't like anybody
could really blame him. Cupid was…well, maybe not perfect, he was a little
young and that whole scene in Strife's apartment he could have lived
without. Still, he was pretty damn close to exactly what Strife wanted in a
guy, even if his timing was terrible.

Not that it was Cupid's fault he'd stumbled into Strife's life when he did.
Hell, if Strife hadn't wasted two years in junior college they might have
met when Cupid was sixteen, and then he really would have been too young.
He felt pretty stupid now for acting like Cupid's age was such a big deal,
especially once he told Cupid how old he was and saw the look on the other
boy's face. He was pissed, and it wasn't like he didn't have a good reason.
If he'd just waited long enough for Strife to explain…but what good would
it have done? They'd still be in the same place they were now, only it
would be even harder to know that Cupid didn't hate him but they still
couldn't be together.

And when did he go falling for the kid, anyway? They barely even knew each
other, but somehow he had a feeling that he was missing out on something
special when he let Cupid walk out of his life. He let out a sigh and told
himself to stop thinking about it. Cupid wasn't at the show, and the
chances of ever seeing him again were pretty slim so there was no reason to
obsess about it. He followed the rest of the band offstage, stopping short
when he reached the room at the back of the bar they'd been using as a
dressing room. He'd been looking forward to a beer and a little quiet
between sets, but when he reached the door of the small room it was packed.

There were girls everywhere, and right at the center of the crowd were
Hercules and Iolaus. As soon as he walked in the room somebody squealed -
they actually squealed, like he was Sid freaking Vicious returned from the
grave - and the eight or so girls that Herc had managed to drag backstage
surged forward. Before he had a chance to react he found himself surrounded
by girls, all of them talking at once and none of them making any sense.
There were hands everywhere; on his arms, in his hair, moving over his bare
chest. He stretched up to his full height in time to catch Iolaus rolling
his eyes and Hercules grinning like an idiot.

Somehow he managed to force his way through the crowd, ignoring his
roommates and their fan club as he fought his way to the back of the tiny
room. He found Xena crouched in the corner, adjusting the strings on her
bass. "What the fuck's all that about?" he practically shouted over the
noise coming from the front of the room.

Xena glanced up long enough to grin at him, her blue eyes sparkling. "What
do you think? Herc's in heaven. Some of them are kind of cute, I don't
blame him."

Strife made a face as he glanced at the small crowd of girls again, sinking
into a metal folding chair while he watched Xena set her bass back in its
case. "Yeah, well there ain't enough room fer us in here as it is," he
said. "Why'd he hafta drag 'em all back here?"

"He didn't. Gabbie let them in, she said something about them being good
for our image. Although what a bunch of screaming girls does for a punk
band I don't really get. Not that I mind the girls part, but the screaming
I could live without."

"Figures. She would do somethin' like this," Strife grumbled, leaning back
in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at his
roommates. "An' will ya look at those two idiots? They're eatin' this
stuff up."

"Yeah, well, you would be too if it was a roomful of tall blond guys with
killer bods and chiseled features." Xena laughed at the look he shot her
and sank into the chair next to his. "Come on, Strife, when are you gonna
snap out of it? I've known you my whole life and I've never seen you get
like this over a guy."

"It's got nothin' ta do with Cupid."

"Sure it doesn't. Look, I don't know Herc and Iolaus the way you do, but
you guys have been friends since junior high. Don't you think if you just
tell them how you feel about the guy…"

Strife shot her a horrified look that stopped her in mid-sentence. "Are ya
outta yer fuckin' mind? Talk to those two about my *feelings*? Do I look
like a chick?"

"Well with the hair…" She trailed off with a laugh when he glared at her
and pulled her hand away from his hair. "Okay, okay, I get it, guys don't
talk about that stuff. But what's the big deal? If you like the guy why
don't you just tell Herc and Iolaus to fuck off?"

"We made a pact, right after Iphicles quit the band ta marry
what's-her-face. Nobody gets serious about anybody 'til we either break up
or make it big."

"That's the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard in my life." He tore his
gaze away from the back of the other guys' heads to look at her, the
bitterness in her tone surprising him. "Are you kidding me? You can't date
somebody you like because it might get in the way of the band? Were you
gonna bother to mention this to me?"

"Well we figured…ya know…" Strife trailed off and bit his lip, realizing
too late that telling Xena the truth about why they hadn't mentioned the
pact to her might be hazardous to his health. "It's just yer thing fer
Blondie’s lasted fer ages, an' we figured as long as yer hung up on her…"

"As long as I'm hung up on Gabbie there's no chance of me getting into a
serious relationship." She let out a deep breath and looked down at the
floor, shaking her head when he opened his mouth to defend himself. "No,
you're probably right. I mean I know she doesn't think of me that way. But
you've got a shot with Cupid, Strife. You should go for it, screw the band.
If we make it we make it, if we don't it's not the end of the world."

"Tell that ta Herc." Strife glanced over at his roommate again, a soft sigh
escaping his throat when he took in his friend's broad grin. "It's all he
evah fuckin' talks about. When he's not talkin' 'bout chicks, anyway."

"He just likes the glory," Xena said. "It wouldn't be any different if he
was an actor. Maybe he should try stripping, I bet he'd love all the
attention he got in the clubs. And Iolaus will go along with whatever Herc
does. He's like a puppy."

Strife was too busy laughing at the image of Hercules as a male stripper to
think about what Iolaus would do for his best friend. He'd commented more
than once on all the things he was pretty sure Iolaus would like to do for
Hercules, but he kept those kinds of observations between him and Xena most
of the time. Still, he had to admit she had a point. "It doesn't matter
anyway," he said, his laughter fading as he turned back to her. "Cupe hates
me. He's never gonna talk ta me again."

"He doesn't hate you."

"Yeah, he does. You shoulda seen 'im, Xena. He was pissed."

"Sure, he was pissed, but he doesn't *hate* you. How could he hate you? I
know better than anybody that you're not nearly as big of an asshole as you
try to convince people. And anyway, you're related to me. There's no way
he could hate you."

A bitter laugh escaped Strife’s throat at that line of logic. “So me bein’
yer cousin means I’m what, unhateable?”

“That’s not even a word.”

“Ya know what I mean. ‘Sides, Gabbie hates me.”

“She only hates you because you hate her. That’s totally different. If you
tried being nice to her she might surprise you.”

He shot her a look that told her exactly what he thought of that idea, his
expression darkening at the reminder of why he didn’t like Gabbie to begin
with. “So not gonna happen.”

“I bet she could find out where Cupid lives.”

“She could not. Yer bullshittin’ me, right?”

Xena shrugged noncommittally and looked toward the front of the room,
grinning at the sight of their bandmates and their entourage before she
glanced at Strife again. “She knows somebody that used to hang out with
that friend of his. I think her name’s Psycho or something. But if you
don’t want to know…”

“What good would it do?” Strife answered miserably. “I mean it’s not like
I’m gonna show up at his house an’ beg him to talk ta me.”

“Every once in awhile we’ve all gotta do a little begging, Strife. Besides,
I have a feeling it won’t be as hard as you think it’s going to be.”

Strife’s features lit up in an involuntary grin as he turned to look at his
cousin again. The thought of seeing Cupid…well, okay, it was a little
scary, but actually showing up in Cupid’s hometown would probably score him
some points. At least it would show that he cared enough to go looking for
him, and even if all he got to do was apologize maybe it would help him stop
thinking about it all the time. “He really hangs out with some chick named
Psycho?”

“That’s what Gabbie said. Maybe it’s a stage name or something. She’s
pretty enough to be a performer.”

“Yeah, maybe.” The truth was Strife didn’t give a damn who Cupid hung out
with, as long as he was willing to give Strife another shot.

~

“He’ll come around, you’ve just gotta give him a little time. He was pretty
pissed after you just walked away from us.”

Cupid stopped rifling through his locker long enough to glare over at
Psyche. “Like I care. Auto can ignore me for the rest of his life, I don’t
give a damn.”

“Come on, Cupe, you don’t mean that. You guys are tight.” She frowned as
she stole another glance down the hall in the direction of her boyfriend,
but Auto was still standing with his back to them. She knew he knew they
were talking about him; he’d practically begged her to go find out what was
up with Cupid, and after watching him brood all weekend she’d finally given
in just to get away from him for a little while. The truth was she’d been
wondering about Auto’s overprotective attitude ever since Cupid first met
Strife, and the longer she watched them both brood the more she was starting
to worry. “Fine, if you don’t want to make up with him for your sake, can
you think about me for a second here? He’s been a complete dick all
weekend, and I’m the one that has to deal with him.”

“Look, Psyche, I’m sorry he’s being such a jerk. Sometimes I wonder why you
bother with him.” Cupid slammed his locker shut and turned around, glancing
in Auto’s direction before he looked down at Psyche again. “You could do
way better, you know.”

“It’s complicated,” she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Look,
just think about it, okay? You know how stubborn he can be.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll think about it. But for you, not for him, okay? I swear
he’s worse than my dad. He thinks he can just order me around and I’m
supposed to thank him for it.”

“Thanks, Cupe,” she said, leaning up to plant a kiss on his cheek before she
headed back to Auto. She knew he had a point about Auto, but it wasn’t like
she could just come right out and tell him her theory on what was going on.
She liked Auto, he was a fun guy and she’d known him forever. Cupid was a
sweet kid, though, and she didn’t want to end up having to choose between
the two of them. It was bad enough when she got caught in the middle, and
she knew it would be a lot worse if she came right out and said ‘I think
Auto’s being a jerk because he’s in love with you’.

The truth was she wasn’t even sure if that was it. She knew Auto had a
thing for Cupid that went a lot further than his usual interest in other
guys, but she didn’t know if he had feelings for Cupid or if he just kept
trying because nobody had ever turned him down before. Most of the people
they met got a kick out of the idea of a threesome that they didn’t have to
work for, so neither of them ever had a hard time finding a new guy or girl
to keep things interesting. At least that was what they always said it was
about, but Psyche had been wondering lately if they were just using that as
an excuse to avoid making a commitment.

Sometimes she wondered if they were getting a little old to keep acting like
this. Whenever she tried to talk to Auto about it he just told her to stop
getting all ‘girlie’ on him, like thinking about their relationship made her
a drag to be around. She was pretty sure she should be worried about that,
but she wasn’t sure anymore if she cared enough to let it bother her.

She took a deep breath as she got closer to Auto, steeling herself for the
inevitable grilling she was about to get on every detail of what Cupid had
said to her. Before she reached him someone grabbed her arm, and she turned
to find herself face to face with one of the girls she used to hang out with
before she and Auto started spending all their time together.

“There was somebody asking around about you last night at the show I went
to. I just thought you should know.”

Psyche frowned at the other girl, her mind racing as she wondered who could
be interested in her. “What’d you tell them?”

“She just wanted to know where you were from, that kind of thing. Actually
I think she was more interested in Cupid. She asked me if you two were
friends.”

“She’s interested in Cupid? She’s barking up the wrong tree there,” Psyche
said, laughing at the thought of some poor girl pining away for Cupid.
“She’s not his type.”

“Yeah, well, just so you know, somebody told her what school we go to. I
didn’t tell her anything, but somebody did.”

“Thanks,” Psyche said distractedly as the other girl turned away from her.
She wasn’t sure if she should be worried about some strange girl knowing
where they went to school; a lot of people at the clubs in the city knew
them, and it wasn’t like Auto was careful what he told people. So it
wouldn’t be that hard to track any of them down, but she wasn’t sure why
anyone would want to. She turned to look for Auto but the hallway was
practically empty, and there was no sign of her boyfriend anywhere. “Just
great,” she muttered, letting out a frustrated sigh as she headed for the
door.

She stepped out of the school and nearly collided with Auto, catching
herself before she ran right into him. “Jesus, Auto,” she muttered,
glancing up at him when he didn’t answer. As soon as she looked at him she
saw that he wasn’t even listening, and when she followed his gaze she
realized why. Cupid was stopped right next to the road, his hands in his
pockets and his shoulders tense. He was standing in front of a beat-up red
van, and leaning against it was Strife. At least she assumed it was Strife,
he looked different when he wasn’t on a stage screaming into a microphone.
In the daylight he looked almost like he could be just another kid at their
school, and she realized for the first time that he probably wasn’t that
much older than they were.

“Guess that explains why somebody was asking around about us,” she muttered
to herself. As soon as she said it Auto shifted next to her, and before she
could react he was down the stairs and heading toward the parking lot. She
rolled her eyes and ran down the steps, praying she didn’t break an ankle
trying to run in heels. “Auto, would you wait up?” she called after him,
although she had a feeling he didn’t even know she’d been standing there.



The longer he stood there staring back at Cupid the more stupid
Strife felt for showing up in the first place. He felt like he was
in one of those lame teen movies, and this was the big finale where
he showed up at the school and Cupid jumped in the van and they went
riding off into the sunset together. Only Cupid hadn't exactly
appeared the second he drove up; he had no idea what time school got
out and Gabbie hadn't been able to find out much more than the name
of Cupid's school and the town he lived in. So Strife had been
parked outside for almost 45 minutes when Cupid finally appeared,
and even then he wasn't sure if Cupid would see him.

It wasn't like he was going to call Cupid's name or run after him if
Cupid decided to pretend he wasn't there and head in the other
direction. Okay, so maybe he would have been pathetic enough to run
after Cupid if he tried to ditch Strife. He'd already embarrassed
himself by showing up at the school in the first place, so he might
as well go the extra mile and prove how low he was wiling to go for
a second chance. Thankfully Cupid didn't force him to completely
humiliate himself, though. In fact he spotted Strife almost as soon
as he walked out of the school, and he didn't even hesitate before
he walked over to the van. Since then he'd just been standing
there, though, and Strife wasn't so sure anymore that this had been
such a good idea.

"Don't tell me, you're cruising the high schools now. You run out
of prospects in the city already?"

Okay, so maybe he deserved that. Bitter looked pretty bad on Cupid,
though, and to his surprise Strife found himself feeling guilty for
having that kind of affect on the kid. Normally he'd get a charge
out of the fact that somebody like Cupid liked him enough to be that
pissed, but he had a feeling he didn't really deserve it. "Look,
I'm sorry `bout my place, okay? I know I fucked up. Would ya just
hear me out?"

"What's the point? We both got what we wanted, right? You don't
owe me anything, Strife."

"I know that…fuck, Cupe, I'm tryin' ta apologize here."

"Why?"

That question Strife hadn't been expecting, and he wasn't sure how
to answer it. The truth seemed so raw, too much like just ripping
his heart right out of his chest and handing it over to a kid who
might not even know what to do with it. Cupid seemed more sure of
what he was doing than Strife, though, and he was pretty sure the
truth was the only thing that was going to convince Cupid at this
point.

"'Cause I like ya," he said, forcing the words out around the
tightness in his chest. "I know what I said about not lookin' fer a
boyfriend right now. See, I made this deal with the band…"

"I already told you, I don't give a damn about your stupid friends,"
Cupid interrupted. "If you came here to make yourself feel better
you can just go back to the city. I don't want to hear it."

He started backing away while he talked, and Strife was gripped by a
moment of panic when he realized it might really be too late. Until
that moment he'd been able to tell himself it didn't really matter,
that if Cupid didn't want to pick up where they left off he could
just put it behind him and get on with his life. It might even be
better that way, because then he wouldn't have to deal with Herc and
Iolaus. At least that's what he'd been telling himself since Xena
called him and told him that Gabbie found out where he went to
school. Now that he was faced with the reality of Cupid walking
away from him he realized it wouldn't be that easy to just forget
him, but he wasn't sure anything he said would make a difference.

"Cupe, wait a second, would ya?" He pushed himself off the side of
the van and moved forward, reaching out and catching Cupid's wrist.
There was no way he was going to stop Cupid if he really wanted to
go, but that didn't mean he couldn't try. "Look, I wasn't
embarrassed by ya. It's just we made this dumb pact afta our last
bassist ditched us to marry his girlfriend. Nobody gets serious
about anybody `til the band takes off."

"That's really stupid."

"Yeah, so I hear." Strife grinned nervously and glanced down at the
hand that was still holding onto Cupid's wrist. His thumb was
moving in little circles around the ball of Cupid's wrist joint, and
he was surprised at how much even that small contact could do to
him. "What I'm tryin' ta say here is that I don't care `bout the
stupid pact anymore. I shouldn'ta let ya leave like that, and I
came down here ta see if ya maybe wanna try this thing again."

"What, like dating?"

Strife shrugged and pulled his hand away, self-doubt creeping back
into the forefront as he waited for Cupid to make some kind of
move. He wasn't used to feeling so unsure of himself, but something
about Cupid made him feel like the whole world was tilted and he was
just trying to stay on his feet. "Yeah. I mean if ya want."

Cupid's whole face lit up when he smiled, and before Strife could
stop himself he was moving forward. He didn't even think about what
he was doing until Cupid's hand flattened against his chest, and his
heart dropped into his stomach as he looked away. "How'd you know
where I lived?" Cupid asked, surprising Strife into looking up
again.

"Xena's friend knows yer friend Psycho." He frowned at the sound of
Cupid's laughter, taking an involuntary step backwards. "What?"

"Psyche," Cupid corrected him when his laughter subsided.

"Whatevah." Strife grinned back at Cupid, heedless of the fact that
they were still standing in front of the younger boy's high
school. "So does that mean ya wanna…"

"Yeah." Cupid's grin faded a little and he glanced back toward the
school. For a second Strife wondered what he was missing, but when
Cupid turned back he was smiling again. "Do you have to get back
right away? My mom's got group tonight if you want to come over for
awhile."

"Group?" Strife asked as they turned back toward the van. "She in
AA or somethin'?"

"No, she's a therapist. Couples therapy, on Tuesday nights she's
got a group that meets at the hospital. She usually doesn't get
back until after 10:00."

"Cool." Strife rounded the van as Cupid pulled open the door on the
passenger side, swallowing a sudden rush of nerves at the thought of
actually hanging out with Cupid at his house. He was the one that
had started this whole thing that first night in the club when he'd
kissed Cupid without even introducing himself first, and he was the
one that had showed up outside Cupid's school asking if they could
go steady. He should probably be embarrassed that he couldn't just
forget Cupid and move on, but he didn't have any reason to be
nervous. Still, there it was, a ball of anticipation all wrapped up
with the nerves in his stomach. He just hoped he wouldn't puke in
Cupid's house and ruin everything.

Cupid gave him directions to a house not far from the school, and a
few minutes later he found himself pulling to a stop in front of a
split-level white house complete with a little picket fence. It
looked exactly like the kind of house he could imagine Cupid growing
up in; the only thing that didn't make sense was what a kid like
Cupid was doing hanging out in punk clubs in the city. He followed
Cupid into a living room decorated in white and different shades of
pink, cringing involuntarily as he imagined what Cupid's mother
would have to be like to pick out those particular colors.

"Pretty gross, I know," Cupid said, grinning at Strife's sheepish
expression. "It was kind of a knee-jerk reaction to my dad leaving,
I think. When he lived here everything was black and gray, then he
ditched us and my mom kind of took out her aggressions on the
furniture."

"Musta been a pretty bad split."

"Well I'm pretty sure she caught him with another guy and flipped
out. So yeah, it was bad. They get along okay now, but I think
it's mostly for my sake."

"So yer old man's what…bi?"

"No, I'm pretty sure it just took him a long time to come out. We
don't really talk about it much, but he lives with a guy now and he
seems pretty happy. I hope he doesn't screw this one up, his
boyfriend's really cool."

Cupid led Strife up a flight of stairs to the second floor, stopping
in front of a door halfway down the hall and standing aside to let
Strife brush past him into the room. It was obvious on first glance
that it was Cupid's bedroom, the tattered flyers from punk shows and
the piles of clothes lying around were a dead giveaway. The fact
that there wasn't any pink anywhere in the room was another
indication. He crossed to the double bed that took up half the far
wall and sat down, taking in the flyers from bands Cupid had liked
enough to hang on his wall.

"So yer folks are cool with you likin' guys then?"

"I wouldn't say my mom's cool with it exactly. My dad's okay with
it, obviously, and Mom tries to understand, but sometimes I get the
feeling it just reminds her of why her marriage split up. Like she
blames herself or something." Cupid kicked the door shut before he
crossed the room and sank onto the mattress next to Strife, leaning
back to study the other boy's profile. "What about your folks? Do
they know?"

"My mom's cool about it mosta tha time," Strife answered. "Not that
she's got much ta say about what I do. Dad's doin' 20 ta life so
we're not real close. He's got a brother that lives in tha city,
though, he's pretty cool. Lives with some guy, one a these days I'm
gonna get over there and see him."

"Your dad's in prison?"

"Yeah, been in the joint since I was a kid. Got drunk and killed
one a his drinkin' buddies. He had a bad temper, least that's what
my mom says. I don't remember much about him, to tell ya the
truth. He's got another brother someplace, I don't know that one
though. They're triplets, you'd nevah be able to tell `em apart
just lookin' at a picture."

"Wow, that's…I mean, don't you miss him?"

"Who, my old man? I don't even know him, Cupe. I used ta feel
weird about telling my friends about him, but I got over it. I mean
if yer gonna hang around me yer gonna hear about it eventually.
Xena and the guys know all about it. Xena knows everythin' about
me."

"That girl from the band? So you guys are close?"

Strife grinned at the nervous edge in Cupid's voice. He wasn't used
to people being jealous about him, but it was kind of flattering in
a weird way. "She's my cousin. Known her my whole life."

"Oh." A relieved grin lit up Cupid's features, and Strife found
himself leaning forward unconsciously. He braced himself on the
mattress with one hand, the other hand landing on Cupid's neck to
guide him forward. As soon as their lips brushed a sense of relief
flooded him, and he was almost sure an audible whimper escaped his
throat. Before he had time to worry about whether or not Cupid
heard him he felt a hand flatten against his chest, but instead of
pulling him closer Cupid shoved him backwards. "Wait a second."

Wait…how the hell was he supposed to wait? It had been three whole
days since he last saw Cupid, and he thought they'd straightened
everything out back at the school. This was supposed to be the
making up part, wasn't it? And that was the good part, at least
he'd heard it was. Not that he was a relationship expert or
anything, but all the married people he knew practically lived for
makeup sex. Cupid didn't look mad anymore, but Strife wasn't sure
if he was even reading the kid right. He didn't know him well
enough to tell, and he wasn't even sure if it counted as makeup sex
when there hadn't really been a breakup.

"What's the problem?"

"You aren't gonna change your mind again, are you? I mean it's one
thing to be here when there's no chance anybody will see us
together. But if you're gonna freak out every time your friends are
around…"

Strife let out a frustrated sigh and fell backwards, stretching out
on the mattress and staring up at the ceiling. He should have seen
the question coming, and it wasn't like he could promise he'd never
freak out again. He knew what he wanted, but keeping things
together with the band and keeping Cupid happy wasn't going to be
that easy. "They're gonna be total assholes about this, just so ya
know," he said, sparing a quick glance at Cupid before he turned
back to the ceiling. "The whole `no dating' thing's only parta the
problem."

"So what's the rest of it? They're not still mad about the
bathroom, are they?"

"Be a lot easier if that was it." He pushed himself up on his
elbows and let his gaze wander over Cupid's frame. It was hard to
focus with all that golden skin right there within arm's reach. It
was harder still to have this conversation when what he really
wanted to do was push Cupid down and kiss him until he forgot what
they were talking about, but he had a feeling Cupid wouldn't be that
easy to distract. "Look, Cupe, fer you and yer friends punk's about
the clothes and the music, right? Ya probably got yer hands on a
Sex Pistols CD when ya were a kid and wanted ta be just like Johnny
Rotten, right?"

"New York Dolls," Cupid admitted when Strife paused and glanced over
at the younger boy again.

Strife grinned and turned on his side to face Cupid. "Well at least
ya got good taste. Fer me it was Social Distortion. The point is
that fer some people it ain't just music an' leather. There's kids
out there that think War Bastards is the shit, but if they heard I
was datin' a guy they'd be standin' outside the club waitin' ta kick
my ass. Some a tha other bands wouldn't be so cool about it,
either."

"So your friends expect you to pretend to be straight when you're on
stage? Is that what you want?"

"Ya really wanna know what I want?"

The tips of Cupid's ears turned the color of the curtains in his
mom's living room, and Strife had to resist the urge to ask if it
was an all-over blush. "I'm serious," Cupid said, but he finally
relaxed enough to stretch out on the bed next to Strife. Definitely
an improvement, Strife decided as he inched a little closer to Cupid
and reached out to trace the outline of his jaw.

"I know yer serious, Cupe. It ain't that big a deal, I just keep my
sex life offa the stage. The guys're just freakin' out about ya a
little 'cause ya come ta the shows an' stuff."

"So you want me to stop coming to the shows?"

"No. Jesus, Cupe, that's not what I'm sayin'. Look, you've hooked
up with other guys at the clubs before, right?"

Cupid nodded, his forehead furrowed with confusion that Strife
didn't really want to think was cute, but it was hard to resist
anything about Cupid. The fact was that Cupid was more naïve than
he let on, but Strife wasn't about to change his mind and leave
now. He'd already decided as soon as Xena offered to find out where
Cupid lived that he was going to find a way to get him back, so he
just had to find a way to make Cupid understand what he was trying
to say.

"And how many of 'em were…y'know, out?"

"I don't know. It's not like we did a lot of talking. I mean I
never dated any of them."

Strife hadn't been expecting that answer, and suddenly he felt like
an even bigger jerk for trying to give Cupid the brush-off after a
couple nights together. "Never? Ya never dated…anybody?"

"Well at school there's only Auto, and he goes out with Psyche.
Besides, he's my friend, and it would just be weird, you know? I
guess I never really thought about it before." He was studying his
bedspread like it had the secret of life written on it, and Strife
could tell without asking that he'd managed to embarrass Cupid on a
whole new level. Still, to be somebody's first actual boyfriend -
it was a different kind of first than being his first fuck, but it
was sort of cool. In a really scary way.

"Listen, Cupe, are ya sure ya want *me*?" Strife laughed nervously
when Cupid looked up and met his gaze, part of him hoping Cupid
would take it as a joke and blow it off. He was only half kidding,
though, and even though he didn't want to he couldn't stop himself
from offering Cupid an easy out. "I mean I never won an award fer
bein' a great boyfriend. The band takes up mosta my time, I'm
usually out half the night, ya already found out what an asshole I
can be…"

"Strife," Cupid interrupted, reaching out and pressing his fingers
to Strife's lips. "Would you shut up? I'm positive, okay? All
I've been thinking about since the first time I saw you is the next
time I get to see you. Besides, high school takes up most of my
time."

He'd been telling himself for a long time that he wasn't looking for
a boyfriend, and he definitely wasn't looking for any declarations
of love or any of that mushy romantic crap that he didn't know what
to do with anyway. For a long time he'd believed that, but hearing
Cupid say he'd been thinking about Strife since before they even met
did things to his stomach that defied gravity. He was still having
a hard time believing that he was really in Cupid's bedroom, let
alone that what had started out as more or less anonymous sex was
turning into the first real relationship he'd had in ages. It
wasn't too late to back out, to cut his losses and tell Cupid they
were probably making a mistake. There was no way he could look
Cupid in the eye and do it, though, and he knew damn well he didn't
want to.

He let out a dramatic sigh and fell back on the mattress. "I can't
believe my boyfriend's in high school."

A second later he found himself draped in high school student, a
warm, solid body pressing him into the mattress. Cupid glared down
at him from less than six inches away, a lock of blond hair falling
across his forehead. "Is that gonna be a problem?"

"No problem, I swear," Strife answered. He wrapped his arms around
Cupid's neck and pulled him forward the last few inches, leaning up
to fuse meet him in a slow kiss. As far as he was concerned it
didn't matter what Cupid did with his days as long as Strife was the
only one that got to kiss him like this. The only real problem he
could think of was that eventually Cupid's mom was going to come
home, which meant he'd have to get up and go back to the city a lot
sooner than he wanted to.




Being draped in Cupid was nice, but being draped in naked Cupid was
definitely better. It had been a challenge getting all their clothes off
without letting Cupid up long enough to lose the feel of the other boy's
weight holding him down, but thanks to Strife's experience with changing for
shows in dressing rooms that were sometimes no bigger than a closet he
managed to get them both out of their clothes without ever leaving the bed.

He knew his ribs were going to be sore from when Cupid had leaned a little
too hard against him and caught him with an elbow, but right now he wasn't
complaining. In fact right now the only thing on his mind was tasting every
inch of Cupid's bare skin. The fact that they could take their time was
unbelievable; he kept expecting to wake up and find himself back in his
ratty apartment alone, or worse, for Cupid's mom to walk in and find her son
rolling around in bed with some questionable-looking guy who was too old for
Cupid.

It wasn't like he didn't know how he looked to most people, he'd heard it
enough growing up in Detroit to start thinking it must be true. Back in his
neighborhood most of the kids dressed in ratty jeans and hand-me-downs from
older brothers and sisters or cousins, but they all got called things like
'white trash' and 'juvenile delinquent' at school. It didn't matter that he
didn't set out to cause trouble, the fact that his old man was in prison for
manslaughter meant that everybody expected him to grow up and land himself
in jail too.

So far Cupid hadn't treated him like that, though, in fact the only thing
he'd asked about Strife's father was whether or not he missed him. Of
course it was possible he was just being polite, or maybe he hadn't really
thought about it yet. Maybe once Strife went home and he had some time to
think he'd realize he couldn't tell his folks he was dating the son of a
con. He tore his lips away from Cupid's with a gasp and blinked against the
lust-induced haze that was making it hard for him to remember how to talk.
"Cupe, what I said before 'bout my old man…yer not gonna freak out about it
later, are ya?"

"What? No, of course not," Cupid answered distractedly as his mouth moved
down Strife's jaw to his neck. Strife's hands threaded in Cupid's hair,
summoning every ounce of self-control he had to pull Cupid away.

"Ya sure? 'Cause it's happened before. People think they can handle it,
then they start thinkin' 'bout what their friends are gonna say and stuff.
He's all the way back in Michigan, but if yer gonna freak out lemme know
now."

Cupid shook his head and rolled off Strife, pulling him onto his side and
wrapping his arms around the smaller boy again. "You're not your father,
Strife. So he made a mistake and he's paying for it, what does that have to
do with you? All I care about is that you want to be with me."

"Yeah?" Strife couldn't have helped the grin that lit up his features if
he'd wanted to, but judging by the way Cupid was looking at him he didn't
have to worry about betraying too much of what he was feeling. He had a
feeling he could blurt out something crazy like 'I love you' and Cupid
wouldn't even blink before he said it right back. Just knowing that was a
possibility was a bigger rush than he'd felt in years. "So ya evah done it
in yer own bed before?"

"I'd never done it in a bed at all until that night at your place," Cupid
answered. For a second Strife thought he was joking, but when he didn't
laugh Strife realized he was serious.

"Nevah? You got somethin' against bein' comfortable?"

"No…I mean it was nice, at your place. I never thought it would matter, I
guess, but now I know. But it's not like I've ever brought anybody home,
and usually the guys I meet at the clubs…"

"Geez, Cupe," Strife said, but he wasn't sure if he felt bad for Cupid for
not knowing what it could be like or if he just felt bad for treating him
the way everyone else in his life had. All he knew was that he didn't want
to hear any more about Cupid's anonymous encounters with guys he didn't know
who treated him like he was just a piece of ass. It was one thing to warn
Cupid about the clubs and the way it would be for them if word got out that
they were together, but he'd treated Cupid just as bad as all those other
guys. He'd never really thought of himself as having anything to hide, but
for the first time he was starting to think about what he was doing with his
life and he wasn't sure he liked what he saw. "I was a total asshole to ya,
why do ya still want me around?"

"Same reason you didn't tell me to go to hell when you found out I lied
about my age, I guess." Cupid looked down at Strife's chest, his cheeks
flushing a flattering shade of pink as he flattened his palm against the
other boy's skin. "Call me crazy but I felt like there was something there,
you know? I mean other than just sex."

"Yeah, I think I know what ya mean," Strife said. He grinned when Cupid's
gaze snapped up to meet his, dark eyes wide with surprise and a
vulnerability that scared Strife as much as it flattered him.

"You do?"

Strife didn't answer; instead he leaned forward and captured Cupid's lips
with his, taking advantage of the other boy's surprise to part his lips and
deepen the kiss. He was pretty sure he didn't deserve a second chance with
Cupid, but there was no way he was going to turn it down. He wasn't going
to screw it up this time, either, not if he could help it. He reached up to
run the fingers of one hand through blond hair, tangling their legs together
and thrusting against the solid body pressing into his. Cupid's grip on his
back tightened almost convulsively at the first thrust, the kiss turning
more urgent as he tugged Strife impossibly closer on the bed.

Long, awkward conversation about emotional topics Strife generally tried his
hardest not to discuss had worn down his resolve, and he knew there was no
way either one of them were going to last long. Even if he tried to slow
them down he wasn't sure if he'd be able to, Cupid was rocking almost
helplessly against him and it was all Strife could do to hold on. He
reached between them and closed his hand around Cupid's cock, earning a hiss
from the younger boy as he ran his thumb across the already slick tip.

Cupid jerked in Strife's grip and let out a low groan, tearing his mouth
away from the other boy's to gasp for breath. His hand left Strife's back
to reach between them, pushing Strife's hand out of the way long enough to
wrap a wide palm around both their erections. Strife bit back a moan and
covered Cupid's hand with his own, adding pressure to their strokes as he
thrust into Cupid's grip. He felt himself tense first, burying his face in
Cupid's neck to moan against slick skin as he let go and came. As soon as
warm heat hit Cupid's stomach he followed Strife over the edge, his grip
tightening as he tensed and came with a low moan.

The sound made Strife's heart skip a beat, and he turned his face further
into the younger boy's neck and planted almost frenzied kisses on his skin.
Cupid's grip loosened as the last of his energy drained out of him, and
Strife's slowly softening cock slipped out of the other boy's hand. Even
that small loss of contact seemed like too much, and he snuggled a little
closer to Cupid as he kissed his way down the other boy's neck to his chest.

Cupid's chest heaved as he let Strife push him onto his back, his eyes
closed and his lips parted invitingly as Strife pushed himself up and swung
one leg over Cupid's waist. He took a moment to admire the sight of Cupid
stretched out on the bed under him before he leaned over and pressed another
kiss to Cupid's chest, savoring the flavor of salt on his tongue as he
closed his mouth around a pink nipple. Cupid shuddered underneath him as
Strife's teeth grazed the sensitive spot, a hand landing at the back of his
neck to stroke lazily through dark hair. Strife worked his way to the other
side of Cupid's chest, sucking gently until Cupid was panting again.

When he looked up Cupid's eyes were open and slightly glazed as he watched
Strife exploring every new inch of exposed skin. Cupid was the first guy
Strife had wanted to take his time with since high school, and he had a
feeling it was the first time anybody had ever taken their time with Cupid.
That first night in Strife's bed had been intense in a way he hadn't even
realized he missed, and he was determined to make sure every time they were
together was just as good. He found himself thankful that he'd actually
taken Cupid home with him that night, because even though Iolaus had walked
in on them and started what Strife thought was going to be their first and
last fight, he was glad he was the first person Cupid had ever spent the
whole night with.

He knew it should bother him that he cared whether or not he was Cupid's
first anything, but he couldn't make himself worry about it. All he did
care about was that Cupid knew he was exactly where he wanted to be, for
however long he could be there. Slowly he worked his way down Cupid's chest
to his stomach, tasting their mingled flavors on his tongue as he licked the
other boy's skin clean. Cupid's hands were still in his hair, stroking
softly as he planted kisses on every spot he could reach. The hands in his
hair tightened almost imperceptibly as he reached the other boy's cock, his
hands on Cupid's solid thighs as he leaned over to run his tongue down the
Cupid's length.

His tongue teased the slit at the tip of Cupid's cock before he closed his
mouth around it, one hand leaving Cupid's thigh to grip the base as he slid
his mouth as far down Cupid's length as he could. Cupid's cock twitched
against his tongue as it slowly began to harden again, and when Strife
pulled back to plant kisses on Cupid's inner thighs he was already
half-hard. He grinned and nudged Cupid's legs further apart, kneeling
between them and guiding Cupid's knees up toward his chest. He found
himself wondering about all the things Cupid had never done before, all the
spots on his body that Strife was planning to find and memorize until he
could practically make the other boy come with a well-placed touch or a kiss
to the exact right spot.

He braced one hand against Cupid's bent leg, brushing his other thumb
against the entrance to the other boy's body. Cupid shuddered as Strife
slid his thumb up to Cupid's perineum, applying just enough pressure to
surprise a gasp out of the younger boy as he found his prostate. Cupid's
whole body jerked against the touch, his eyes wide as he stared up at
Strife. "What…?"

"Just relax," Strife said, his voice softer than usual as he pulled his hand
away and leaned up for a quick kiss.

Cupid nodded mutely as Strife settled back onto his knees and leaned down,
running his tongue from Cupid's balls to the entrance to his body. A
strangled moan escaped Cupid's throat as Strife used his tongue to slowly
work him open, letting the changes in the blond's breathing and the sounds
escaping his throat let him know what Cupid liked best. His fingers were
digging into Cupid's thighs hard enough to leave bright red marks against
golden skin, but Cupid didn't even notice the force of the older boy's grip.
He thrust down to try to draw more of Strife inside, a frustrated whimper
escaping his throat unchecked when Strife pulled back.

"Strife…Jesus…" Cupid murmured, and Strife was positive he'd never heard
anything as hot as Cupid moaning his name. They were both hard by the time
he scrambled off the bed to dig in the pocket of his jeans for a condom, and
when he found it and settled back between the other boy's legs Cupid reached
out and pulled the condom out of his hand.

Even watching Cupid slide the condom onto his cock did things to Strife he
never would have thought possible, and when Cupid produced a bottle of
lotion out of nowhere and closed his fist around Strife's cock he thought he
might come again and ruin the moment. Somehow he managed to hang onto his
last shred of control, leaning forward to press his lips to Cupid's as he
pushed the other boy back down onto the mattress. Kissing Cupid was quickly
becoming his favorite thing to do; it was better than the rush of a
screaming crowd when he was singing his heart out onstage, and the other
kisses he'd shared with other guys in the past didn't even come close.
There was just something about the rush he felt whenever they were together,
the way his heartbeat sped up just a little when their lips met for the
first time.

Getting to kiss Cupid while he buried himself as deep as he could inside the
other boy - well, that was a rush that he knew he'd never be able to top,
not if he spent the rest of his life trying. He was pretty sure Cupid was
ruining him for sex with anyone else in the world, and the funny thing was
that he didn't even care. He tore his mouth away from the other boy's and
looked down at him, pushing blond hair back from Cupid's forehead before he
took hold of his erection and slowly slid inside.

Cupid thrust up to meet him automatically, a soft hiss escaping his throat
at the initial stretch. Strife paused when he was as deep inside Cupid as
he could get, their eyes still locked as the younger boy struggled to catch
his breath. Slowly Strife pulled out again, pausing when just the tip of
his cock was still inside the other boy. His body was screaming at him to
slam back into Cupid hard and fast, over and over until he finally lost it
and came deep inside the other boy. They'd done that already, though, and
more than anything he wanted to make this something Cupid wouldn't forget.
He wasn't sure if he could handle going slow, torturing them both by drawing
it out as long as he could. Still, there was nothing stopping him from
trying.

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Cupid's mouth as
he slowly sank into the other boy again, focusing the brain cells he hadn't
already fried on controlling his urge to thrust as hard and fast as he
could. Cupid's cock was caught between them, his hardness pressed against
Strife's stomach as he slowly thrust in and out of the other boy. With each
frustratingly slow stroke he felt Cupid strain a little more, trying to get
Strife to lose control and speed up by tightening his muscles around
Strife's cock with each thrust. He pressed kisses to every inch of Cupid's
face, making soothing noises low in his throat as he struggled not to give
in and end things too soon.

He planted almost frenzied kisses along Cupid's hairline, stopping just
below his ear to open his mouth against salty skin. Cupid moaned and thrust
a little more wildly against Strife, trying to escape the mixture of
pleasure and pain even as he craned his neck for more. "Strife, please,"
Cupid whispered, his hands in Strife's hair to pull the older boy's mouth
away from his neck. Their gazed locked again and Cupid's whole face
flushed, his throat moving convulsively as he swallowed. "Touch me.
Please."

Strife nodded shakily and looked away, swallowing hard against a sudden
surge of unfamiliar emotion. When he managed to rein in control of his
emotions again he reached between them and closed his hand around Cupid's
cock, stroking slowly to match his thrusts. His already shaky control got
even harder to hold onto when Cupid's hand closed around his, increasing the
pressure and speed of his strokes. The combination of Cupid's cock
thrusting a little more wildly into his fist with each stroke and Cupid's
muscles tightening around him as he approached his climax was too much, and
Strife finally let himself go and slammed hard into the body underneath him.

A moan escaped Cupid's throat that sounded suspiciously like Strife's name,
and a moment later Cupid thrust up hard and shuddered as he came. The
combination of warm moisture hitting his stomach and fingers and the muscles
clamping down on his cock were too much, and Strife tensed and buried
himself as deep inside Cupid as he could get as he came. He collapsed on
the solid chest underneath him, shuddering through the rest of his orgasm as
strong arms wrapped loosely around his back. Being held after sex wasn't
something he'd ever really expected to look forward to, but here he was and
it was…not bad. Kind of nice, actually, and he could probably stay this way
forever if Cupid didn't have any objections.

The problem was that he was pretty sure Cupid's mother would have
objections, and even though she wouldn't be home for hours she'd be home
eventually. Besides, there were details he couldn't ignore, like the condom
that he needed to dispose of and the fact that they were both a mess. He
let out a low groan and forced himself to get up, pulling carefully out of
Cupid and easing his way out of sleepy, pliable arms. He stumbled into
hallway and found the bathroom they'd passed on their way upstairs, tossing
the condom and running the washcloth he found in the shower under the faucet
before he made his way back to Cupid's room.

He looked a lot younger with his eyes closed, Strife realized as he sank
onto the edge of the mattress next to Cupid. He ran the washcloth carefully
over Cupid's stomach and cock, smiling when it twitched under his touch. He
said a quick prayer of thanks for youth and hormones and wiped himself clean
before he tossed the washcloth in Cupid's laundry and climbed back onto the
mattress.

"Ya gonna pass out on me?" he whispered in Cupid's ear, straddling the other
boy's waist again as he pressed his lips to the mark he'd left on his neck.
A muffled 'mmmph' was the only response he got, so he let out a dramatic
sigh and stretched out next to the lifeless form underneath him.

"Can't…move," Cupid murmured as Strife propped himself up on one elbow and
ran his fingers through sweat-dampened blond hair.

"Well at least yer still alive," Strife answered. "Hate ta think I broke ya
already."

Cupid laughed and opened one eye, turning his head just enough to glance
over at Strife. When he took in Strife's affectionate grin he forced his
other eye open and shifted onto his side, reaching up to pull Strife's hand
away from his hair and entwine their fingers. "I wish you could stay."

"Me too, Cupe, but I don't think yer mom would go for it."

"Probably not. Although she is a therapist, she's been known to be
unreasonably cool about some things. She lets me go into the city to hang
out at my dad's whenever, and she didn't totally freak out when I told her I
was gay. She did give me a really embarrassing lecture on safe sex, I still
haven't decided if that was punishment for taking after my dad or just her
job talking."

Strife laughed at the image of Cupid squirming his way through a lecture on
the gay version of the birds and the bees from his mom, surrounded by pink
upholstery and blushing the same color as his mom's couch. "Well at least
she told ya somethin'. My mom found out I was gay when she caught me an'
this guy I used to know makin' out in his car, an' all she said was 'don't
let the neighbors catch you doin' that, they're liable ta set the car on
fire'."

Cupid frowned and Strife instantly tensed, bracing himself for the pity he
knew was coming. "What? It was good advice, I know a few guys that woulda
set it on fire an' watched it burn."

"That's…really sick," Cupid said after a long pause.

Strife shrugged and stood up, hunting through the pile of clothes on the
floor until he found his jeans. "I guess. Ya got anythin' ta eat? I'm
starvin'."

Cupid nodded and let the subject drop, pulling his boxers and jeans back on
before he glanced over at Strife again. When he found the other boy leaning
back on the bed watching him he blushed all over again, a shy smile tugging
at the corners of his mouth as he looked away again. "Come on, I think my
mom left lasagna or something for dinner."

Strife pushed himself off the mattress again and followed Cupid down the
stairs, his gaze wandering over the pictures of Cupid during various stages
of his childhood. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his hands on his
hips as he stared at a picture of Cupid with a tall, dark-haired man. "That
yer old man?"

"Yeah," Cupid answered, his bare chest pressed against Strife's back as he
looked at the picture.

"What's with the outfit?"

"He's a blackbelt in karate. He runs a dojo in the city, and he teaches
self-defense classes at the police station sometimes. That's where he met
his boyfriend, actually. I used to take classes with him when I was
younger, that's from when I got my brown belt."

Strife turned away from the picture to look Cupid up and down with new
interest. "Ya mean ta tell me I been sleepin' with a lethal weapon?"

A surprised laugh escaped Cupid's throat as he shook his head. "I guess,
although I never thought of it that way. Come on, I'm starving."



From their first kiss Cupid had been hoping against any kind of reason that
things between him and Strife would turn out to be more than just a passing
attraction. He was still hoping that when he woke up in Strife’s bed, but
when the other boy showed up outside his school and actually asked Cupid to
be his boyfriend…it was terrifying. More than terrifying, he had no idea
how to act or what to do or even what exactly it meant to be somebody’s
boyfriend.

Not that he could say any of that to Strife, because he’d already offered
enough embarrassing information about his complete lack of experience in the
dating department. He was still having trouble believing that Strife had
actually showed up at his school and gone home with him to spend the whole
afternoon and most of the evening just hanging out, let alone that Strife
had asked Cupid to come out to the band’s show on Friday night. Okay, so
maybe it wasn’t everybody’s idea of the perfect date, but Cupid didn’t mind.
He loved watching Strife sing, and maybe he could talk Psyche into coming
along to keep him company.

Of course that meant he had to make up with Auto, which he wasn’t really
looking forward to. He had no idea what his friend’s problem was lately,
but if he wanted to stay friends with Cupid he was just going to have to get
over it and deal with the fact that Strife was his boyfriend now.

His *boyfriend*.

A crazy grin lit up his features as he walked down the hallway toward his
locker, oblivious to the crowd of students around him and the song he was
humming softly under his breath.

“Well, well, somebody had a good time last night.”

The sound of Psyche’s voice just made him smile more brightly, and he
glanced over at his friend in time to catch her smirking at him. “You have
no idea,” he said as they reached his locker. He leaned back against the
cool metal and let out a sigh that anyone else would have labeled as
‘dreamy’. Psyche was kind enough not to point it out to him, though; in
fact she was smiling affectionately as she watched him replaying the events
of the night before in his mind. “It was amazing, Psyche. He’s so…cool.
And I never expected him to be so nice.”

“So I guess you’re gonna see him again?”

“Friday night,” Cupid answered, glancing down at her long enough to grin
hopefully. “The band’s playing at that new place on 56th. Wanna go?”

Psyche shrugged and glanced down the hall in the direction of her own
locker, and Cupid knew without following her gaze what she was looking at.
She was quiet for a long moment before she turned back to look up at him,
smiling gently as she watched him frown. “Depends. Are you gonna make up
with him?”

“I’m not the one that was being an asshole, you know.”

“He was just worried about you, Cupid, you know how he gets. He didn’t mean
anything.”

Cupid rolled his eyes and stole a glance down the hall, just catching Auto’s
eye before the other boy turned away just a little too quickly for it to be
a coincidence. Finally he sighed and turned back to Psyche, trying and
failing to ignore the rush of guilt that hit him whenever she got caught in
the middle of one of his arguments with Auto. “Alright, alright, I’ll talk
to him. But he says one thing about Strife and that’s it.”

She smiled sadly and just for a second Cupid could have sworn he was missing
some major piece of the puzzle, but as soon as the thought formed her
expression shifted and he was left wondering if he’d imagined it.

“You really like this guy, huh?”

“Yeah,” Cupid answered, the dreamy smile returning as he pushed himself off
his locker and opened it. He tossed his books in and grabbed what he’d need
for first period before turning to look at her again. “It was weird at
first, you know? I mean I didn’t think it was going anywhere beyond the
usual, but when he showed up here…I never thought somebody like Strife would
want me for a boyfriend.”

Her eyes got a little wider at the word ‘boyfriend’, but she grinned at him
and looped her arm through his to drag him down the hall. “You don’t give
yourself anywhere near enough credit, Cupe. I think I even know some
straight guys that would go out with you. Seriously, you’re like every gay
guy’s wet dream. If you don’t believe me ask Auto.”

He blushed at the compliment, but he couldn’t quite manage to wipe the grin
off his face when they finally reached Auto. The truth was that Cupid
didn’t even remember anymore what he’d been so mad about in the first place;
Auto had been trying to tell him how to live his life again, but that was
nothing new. They had that argument at least once a month and it was
usually forgotten in a day or two, but Cupid’s fight with Strife had
eclipsed pretty much everything else in his life until yesterday.

Now that he and Strife had more or less figured things out he was feeling a
lot more forgiving, so he met Auto’s wary expression with a slightly toned
down version of the grin he’d flashed at Psyche a few minutes ago. “Look
who I found,” Psyche said, glancing at Cupid long enough to smile
encouragingly before she turned back to Auto. “Cupe’s going into the city
tomorrow night to see War Bastards play. You wanna go check out that new
club?”

Cupid watched as Auto looked from him to Psyche and then back again,
obviously struggling not to say what he was thinking. After a long moment
he swallowed and looked over Cupid’s shoulder, his arms crossed over his
chest as he spoke. “They’re still in town? When are they going back to
Detroit?”

“They’re not,” Cupid announced. “They moved here. The guys have a place in
Brooklyn, I don’t know where Xena lives.”

“They…live here,” Auto said. He glanced at Psyche but she just shrugged
helplessly and turned back to Cupid. “So you and this guy…”

The wattage of Cupid’s grin faded a little at the mention of his
relationship with Strife. The last thing he felt like doing was listening
to a lecture on relationships from a guy that couldn’t be happy with dating
the coolest girl in school. “Look, Auto, I want you guys to come hang out
with me on Friday, but if you’re gonna be a jerk to my boyfriend then you
might as well stay home.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and stuck out his chin defiantly, waiting
for Auto to say something snide about Strife or his band. The insult never
came; in fact Auto didn’t say anything at all. His mouth opened as though
he was going to say something, then it closed again and he looked at Psyche.
Neither of them said anything, but Cupid could tell by the way they were
looking at each other that he was missing something after all. Sometimes he
thought his two best friends could read each other’s minds, or at least they
had some silent language that no one but them understood. It had made him
feel left out on more than one occasion, but until that moment he’d never
felt like whatever they weren’t saying was directly related to him.

“Nobody’s being a jerk,” Psyche finally said, casting one last meaningful
glance at Auto before she pasted a bright smile on her face and turned back
to Cupid. “As long as you’re happy, we’re happy.”

“Yeah, sure,” Auto added when Psyche elbowed him in the ribs.

“You’re happy, right?” Psyche asked, ignoring the sound of Auto clearing his
throat as she stared expectantly at Cupid.

“Are you kidding?” As soon as he thought about Strife Cupid forgot to worry
about what his friends weren’t telling him, his grin returning as he
remembered all the reasons he was happier than he’d ever thought he could
be. Strife wanted him - *just* him - and he didn’t even care what the other
members of the band had to say about it. Not only had he asked Cupid to
come to the show that weekend, but he’d asked him to spend the weekend in
the city. A whole weekend together - it seemed too good to be true, but he
knew he wasn’t dreaming because he’d already gotten the third degree from
his mom about why he suddenly wanted to spend so much time in the city.

He was pretty sure his dad would cover for him. He hoped so, anyway,
because if he wouldn’t then Cupid was going to have to tell his mother the
truth and he knew exactly what her reaction would be. Which meant he’d be
grounded or something equally humiliating, and for the first time in his
life he’d have to openly defy her to spend time with Strife. The weird
thing was that part of him wanted to tell his mother about Strife; he wanted
to tell everyone, but he knew if he did she’d overreact and the last thing
he needed was to argue with her about whether or not he could go into the
city to see his boyfriend. It was one thing to date a high school senior,
but if Strife had to drive to Jersey to see him every weekend he’d probably
get over his attraction to Cupid pretty fast.

“Earth to Cupid.” A slender hand waved back and forth in front of his eyes,
and he blinked and focused on an amused-looking Psyche. “We’ll take that as
a yes. You’re so far gone on this guy it’s not even funny.”

Cupid blushed but didn’t bother trying to deny it. The truth was that he
was completely and thoroughly smitten with Strife, and he was pretty sure it
wasn’t going away any time soon. He’d never felt that way about anyone
before, not even after the first time he had sex and developed a painful
crush on a guy he didn’t really know who never even spoke to him again
afterwards. This was so different than any crush he’d ever had that he
couldn’t even find a name for the way he felt, but he knew he’d never be
able to hide it from Auto and Psyche.

“Sorry,” he said, although his unrepentant grin didn’t do much to convince
them that he really was sorry. “I’ll introduce you guys on Friday. You’ll
love him, he’s totally cool.”

“If you like him that’s good enough for me,” Psyche answered, her amused
grin laced with affection as she shook her head at Cupid. “Now come on or
we’re gonna be late for homeroom.”

Cupid fell into step next to Psyche and launched into an animated
description of what Strife had told him about the new club they were going
to. He was so engrossed in their plans for the weekend that he didn’t
notice that Auto wasn’t even listening to him as he trailed behind his
friends. Psyche glanced over her shoulder at her boyfriend once or twice,
but Cupid was too excited to care what Auto’s problem was. He was pretty
sure Auto was just worried that Cupid was making more out of his
relationship with Strife than it really was, but as soon as his friends met
his boyfriend he knew they’d see that what he and Strife had was real.

~

He was trying. He was trying really, really hard, but no matter what Strife
did he couldn’t get Cupid out of his head long enough to focus on the sound
check. He was sure the rest of the band was ready to kill him, they were
all sick of listening to him stumble over the words to the new song Xena had
written and he couldn’t really blame them. He was pretty sure the crazy
grin he had no prayer of stifling wasn’t helping his cause, but there was
nothing he could do about it.

Cupid was just…there, even though he was an hour and a half away in some
depressing little town in Jersey. It didn’t matter that Strife hadn’t seen
him for two days, because Cupid would be there that night, right in the very
club they were playing. He was going to be in the audience, standing close
to the stage and looking up at Strife with that sexy half-grin he got
whenever he was thinking real hard about something good. With any luck at
all he’d be wearing leather, and after the show Strife would get to take him
home and peel it off him.

And that wasn’t even the best part, because somehow God or whoever was in
charge of this stuff had decided to give Strife a break for the first time
in his life. He wasn’t even sure why he’d asked Cupid to spend the whole
weekend with him, but he’d never expected the answer he got. Somehow, by
some miracle he wouldn’t let himself question in case he jinxed it, Cupid
had smiled and told him ‘sure’. Just like that, like it was no big deal at
all. They’d been sitting at his mom’s kitchen table eating dinner like some
kind of weird version of a happy suburban couple when the question just
tumbled out of Strife’s mouth, and Cupid hadn’t even thought about it before
he said yes.

So he was spending the whole weekend with his new boyfriend, and the weird
thing was that it wasn’t even just about sex. Sure, he was looking forward
to that part, but most of the time when he thought about the upcoming
weekend he was thinking about the questions he wanted to ask Cupid. They’d
spent a few hours together at Cupid’s house, and almost the entire time all
they’d done was talk. First in Cupid’s room, then in his kitchen and
finally they’d moved to the den to flip through the cable stations and talk
some more. Strife couldn’t even remember all the things they’d talked
about; mostly stories about growing up, and it turned out they had a lot
more in common than Strife had ever expected them to.

They’d both more or less grown up without a full-time father; granted,
Cupid’s dad was just a train ride away, whereas Strife didn’t even know his
father. Their mothers were as different as night and day, but in a way they
still had a lot of the same problems with them. Then there was the whole
messy and awkward coming out process, although Cupid’s dad and his boyfriend
were around to give him more advice than Strife ever got. He’d asked his
uncle a few questions, but he’d moved to New York by the time Strife was
really starting to figure things out so it wasn’t the same as having him
right on the next block.

It felt good to tell Cupid stuff about his life and know that he understood
where Strife was coming from, and even though he wasn’t sure *how* Cupid
understood he wasn’t about to question it. He was just going to enjoy it
for as long as it lasted, and hope that Herc and Iolaus would come around
eventually. So far they hadn’t said much, but Iolaus had been giving him
funny looks ever since he walked in on Cupid and Strife in the shower, and
Herc looked like he was about three seconds away from losing it and beating
the shit out of him for screwing up the song he was supposed to have learned
a week ago.

“Dude,” Herc’s voice jolted Strife out of his reverie, making him lose his
place as the rest of the band stopped playing in the middle of the song.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“What?” Strife asked, letting go of the mic stand as he turned to face
Hercules.

“You just sang the first verse twice. Would you pull your head out of your
ass long enough to get through this song?”

“So he’s having an off day, give the guy a break.”

Strife’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at the source of the defense; he’d
expect it from Xena, they were cousins after all and she usually took his
side over Hercules’. He’d never expected to hear Iolaus standing up for
him, though, at least not when it came to a choice between him and Hercules.
Evidently Hercules wasn’t expecting it either, because he turned away from
Strife as soon as Iolaus opened his mouth.

“What the fuck, man? Don’t tell me he’s not pissing you off. He’s fucked
up every single song we’ve done today. We’ve got a show in like six hours,
and I’m not gonna stand here and look like a moron because he can’t remember
the words to the goddamn songs.”

“So we don’t do the new song, what’s the big deal?” Iolaus asked. Strife
couldn’t help grinning as he watched his friends facing off for the first
time he could remember; Iolaus had followed Hercules blindly since they
first started hanging out in junior high, and Strife was starting to think
he was never going to get over his hero worship of his best friend. He knew
how fast things could get ugly where Hercules was concerned, though, so he
took a step forward.

As soon as he moved Xena was next to him, gripping his arm firmly and
hauling him backwards. “Let’s take ten,” she announced in a tone that told
them all that it wasn’t a suggestion. “If we don’t do the new song tonight
we don’t do it. Fighting about it’s not gonna solve anything.”

Hercules kept staring at his best friend for another long moment, and
Strife could tell Iolaus was getting close to backing down. Just when
Strife thought things might get ugly Hercules muttered something under his
breath and turned on his heel, storming off the stage and disappearing
through the door that led to the back of the club. As soon as he was gone
Iolaus’ shoulders sagged and he let out a deep breath. “What the fuck’s his
problem?” he said under his breath, barely loud enough for Strife and Xena
to catch.

“Fuck if I know,” Strife answered cheerfully. “Sorry, man. Ya gotta admit,
though, that was pretty fuckin’ cool. Herc looked like his head was gonna
explode.”

Iolaus laughed nervously and stole another glance at the door Hercules had
disappeared through. “Yeah. I haven’t seen him that pissed in a long
time.”

“He’ll get over it,” Xena said. “He’s probably just nervous about tonight
or something.”

“Herc nervous? Yer kidding, right?” Strife laughed at the thought, his
good mood refusing to die in spite of their friend’s outburst. “He’s pissed
at me, an’ he can go fuck himself.”

“What’s he pissed at you for? No way,” Xena said, her eyes wide with a
mixture of amusement and indignation when she realized what he meant. “You
mean you found him and you didn’t tell me? I can’t believe you.”

“What? I’m s’posedta call ya and give ya a play by play?”

“Well I don’t need the details, but you could have told me you guys made up.
I mean if it wasn’t for me you’d still be moping around like you lost your
best friend. I guess I should have figured it out from the way you’ve been
grinning like an idiot all day. I thought you were just stoned.”

Strife laughed again as he realized how he must have looked all day if Xena
thought he was high. “Where the fuck would we get the cash ta get stoned?
Can’t a guy just be in a good mood?”

“Not after the way you’ve been dragging around lately.” Xena’s indignant
expression faded into an affectionate grin, and she slung an arm around her
cousin’s shoulders and dragged him off the stage. “Seriously, Strife, I’m
happy for you. Cupid seems like a really nice guy.”

“It’s not like I asked him ta marry me,” Strife grumbled, although he
couldn’t quite stifle the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“He’s just comin’ ta hear the show.”

He left out the part about Cupid spending the weekend with him, figuring it
would be best to break the news of their status as a couple as slowly as
possible. Not that Xena would care, but he wasn’t sure how Iolaus felt
about it and he already knew how Hercules was going to take it. If he was
this pissed just because Strife drove down to Jersey to see Cupid he was
going to freak when Cupid showed up at the club. Maybe when he saw Cupid in
their apartment again his head really would explode; he’d have to find a new
guitarist, but it would solve a couple other problems.

He shrugged at the thought and told himself it was Hercules’ problem, and if
he didn’t like it that was too bad. They’d known each other since before
Strife even figured out he was gay, and even though Herc had never been
exactly comfortable with it he’d never held it against Strife. So he’d get
over it when he realized Strife wasn’t about to leave the band just because
he was dating Cupid. Their relationship wouldn’t change his life at all, it
just meant he’d have a little less time to hang out and watch Herc and
Iolaus try to pick up women. They wouldn’t miss him anyway, so it should
work out fine for everyone. Hercules was a pretty smart guy - stubborn,
sure, but he wasn’t dumb - and he’d see soon enough that nothing was going
to change.



By the time they actually got to the club Cupid felt like he was about to
crawl right out of his skin, but he was doing his level best to keep his
excitement from showing. He knew he was failing miserably, but it was hard
not to bounce on his heels just to let out a little of the excess energy he
didn’t know what to do with. So far Psyche hadn’t done more than shake her
head at him, but Auto had already let out one or two weary sighs and rolled
his eyes more times than Cupid could count.

That wasn’t going to ruin his mood, though, not when he was only a few
minutes away from seeing Strife again. Of course he’d have to wait awhile
until he got to touch his boyfriend, but seeing him would be enough for now.
As soon as Strife spotted him he’d get that look on his face like he knew
a secret and then he’d smile just for Cupid, and the rest of the world
wouldn’t even exist anymore.

He pushed his way through the crowd inside the door, a grin tugging at the
corners of his mouth as Strife’s voice flooded his ears. They’d missed the
first half of the first set thanks to Auto making them miss the early train,
but that just meant Cupid would get to actually touch Strife sooner. At
least he hoped he’d get a chance to at least say hi and steal a kiss between
sets. He knew the band took a break a couple times a night, but whether or
not Cupid would get close enough to see Strife during their breaks was
another story.

A hand closed around his arm, nearly pulling him off balance as it yanked
him back through the crowd. “Cupe,” Auto’s voice sounded in his ear, “Don’t
go ditching us, huh? We’re gonna get some beers.”

Cupid frowned but turned to follow Auto and Psyche with one last mournful
glance in the direction of the stage. He didn’t really see what the point
was of sticking together when they were just going to split up eventually
anyway; he was staying in the city with Strife, and Auto and Psyche had to
catch the last train back to Jersey in a few hours. He’d invited them to
the show, though, and if they wanted to hang out with him while Strife was
on stage he couldn’t really complain.

He waited as patiently as he could while they ordered three beers, only
bouncing a little while he craned his neck to try to catch a glimpse of
Strife over the sea of people in front of the stage. All he could make out
was a shock of unruly black hair, but even that was enough to make his heart
skip a beat. He was so caught up in trying to get a look at Strife that he
barely registered the beer that was thrust into his hand.

“Looks like they’re getting pretty popular.”

“Well you don’t have to sound so surprised,” he said, raising an eyebrow at
Auto. “Strife’s a talented guy.”

“Whatever,” Auto grumbled, but before Cupid could ask him what exactly that
was supposed to mean Psyche stepped between them and grabbed Cupid’s arm.

“Come on, you two. This place is bigger than I thought it was gonna be,
maybe we can intimidate somebody up front into giving up their table.”

Cupid let himself be dragged toward the front of the club, one hand firmly
gripping his drink as Psyche tugged him forcibly through the crush of bodies
surrounding the stage. When he finally found himself at the front of the
crowd he looked up, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of Strife
with his eyes closed, head thrown back as he screamed the last lyrics of a
song into the microphone. He could feel the crowd pressing against him, but
he ignored the press of the crowd as he watched Strife’s head drop and his
eyes slowly blink open.

Part of him expected Strife to look right at him, to somehow sense Cupid’s
presence and turn toward him. In his fantasies Strife would reach down from
the stage and pull him out of the crowd in one of those classic rock star
moments, and they’d cross the stage together to disappear into the back of
the club for awhile. He knew it would never happen, not when they were in a
punk club and Strife had a reputation to worry about. Still, it was a nice
thought, and he could always hope for a day when Strife wouldn’t give a damn
what anybody had to say about who he was sleeping with.

He felt a tug on his arm but he shook it off, his gaze riveted to Strife’s
bare chest as he swung away from Cupid to look at Hercules. The hand on his
arm pulled a little more firmly, and he let out a sigh as he felt a strong
chest press against his shoulder. “Cupe, come on, Psyche scared the hell
out of some girls to get us a table. We’re gonna lose it if you don’t come
on.”

“In a minute.”

“Christ, Cupid, you can still see loverboy from the table. Let’s go.”

The exasperation in Auto’s voice was enough to surprise Cupid into looking
away from Strife, his glare landing on Auto’s back as the other boy turned
away from him. With one final glance back at Strife he turned to follow his
friend, thankful he was tall enough to see over most of the crowd as he
tried to keep up with Auto. He had to admit that Auto was right; he still
had a pretty good view of the stage from the table Psyche had found. He
wasn’t about to admit it out loud, of course, but he sank into a chair and
set his beer on the table behind him.

“So what’s the deal with these guys?” Psyche asked, leaning forward so Cupid
could hear her over the music. “They been playing together long?”

“I guess,” Cupid said, turning to shout over his shoulder without actually
looking at her. “Strife and the other two guys are from Detroit, they’ve
been playing together for a few years anyway. Their bassist left the band
when he got married, so they decided to move out to New York because Xena
lives here. She’s Strife’s cousin.” Cupid gestured toward the dark-haired
girl onstage, grinning as he watched her loose hair flying around her
shoulders while she pounded on her bass.

“She’s from here?”

“That’s what Strife said.”

“Huh.”

“What?” Cupid frowned and tore himself away from the band long enough to
look at Psyche.

“Nothing, I’m just surprised we haven’t seen her around at the clubs. She
seems like the type that would stand out.”

Cupid shrugged and turned back to the stage, smiling unconsciously as he
watched Strife scream his way through the chorus of one of the songs Xena
wrote for the band. “I don’t know, I’ll have to ask Strife. She wrote this
song, so she must know what she’s doing.”

“Yeah?” He could hear Psyche’s smile in her voice, but he glanced over his
shoulder and grinned at her anyway.

“You want me to introduce you or something?”

Psyche shrugged noncommittally and picked up her beer, lifting the bottle to
her lips and stealing a glance at Auto. When she finished drinking she set
it back down and grinned. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Cupid followed Psyche’s gaze, but Auto was leaning back in his chair, his
arms crossed over his chest as he ignored their conversation. He looked
miserable, Cupid decided, and although he wasn’t sure why Cupid had a
sinking feeling it had something to do with him. He shook off an uneasy
feeling and turned back to the stage just in time to catch Strife scanning
the crowd. As soon as Strife’s gaze landed on Cupid his whole face lit up,
and suddenly Cupid was glad he was sitting down. He knew he was probably
grinning like a fool but he couldn’t make himself care when Strife grinned
back at him. It was just a few seconds before Strife swung away from him
again, but those few moments of eye contact were enough to make Cupid forget
all about Auto’s weird behavior.

He forgot everything; the people surrounding their table, his friends and
the rest of the band. All he could think about was the moment he’d get to
touch Strife again, run his hands through thick hair and press his lips to
Strife’s. He really wanted to open his mouth against the pale skin
stretched over Strife’s neck, leave behind a perfect red mark so the rest of
the world would know that Strife was his. The sudden rush of propriety took
him by surprise, leaving him breathless and dazed. He was so caught up in
the thought that Strife really was his and his alone that he didn’t notice
the end of the set until Strife hopped off the stage and fought his way
through the crowd toward their table.

The hardest thing he’d done so far in his short life was to stop himself
from reaching out and touching Strife when he stopped next to their table.
The fact that he’d been followed by a rapidly growing group of girls wasn’t
helping, in fact all Cupid really wanted to do was wrap his arms around his
boyfriend and make sure everyone in the club knew exactly why Strife was off
limits. He couldn’t do it, though, not without causing a scene that would
end in a fight and most likely the loss of his new relationship. Instead he
stood up, inching as close to the other boy as he could without actually
touching him.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Strife echoed, glancing over Cupid’s shoulder at his friends before
he turned his attention back to the blond. “We got a break, ya wanna come
backstage fer awhile?”

Cupid nodded automatically and took a step away from the table, then he
remembered something and leaned forward to whisper in Strife’s ear. When
Strife laughed and nodded Cupid turned back toward his friends and raised an
eyebrow at Psyche. “You guys wanna come backstage? You can meet the band.”

“You sure it’s okay?”

Cupid could hear the hesitation in Psyche’s voice as she glanced over at
Auto, and the nagging sensation that he was missing something came rushing
back. He shook it off and let out an exasperated sigh. “Of course it’s
okay. Come on, they’ve gotta get back onstage eventually.”

He didn’t bother to wait for Auto’s reaction, turning to follow Strife
through the crowd and trusting his friends to keep up. When they finally
reached the back of the stage and stepped through a door into a short
hallway they stopped, letting their eyes adjust to the sudden change in
light. Cupid felt a hand close around his and looked to his left to find
Strife grinning at him in the dim light, tugging on his hand to pull him in
the direction of the dressing room. “C’mon.”

And he would have followed Strife anywhere, as long as he kept on holding
Cupid’s hand. Maybe it was stupid, but he’d never had somebody to just hold
his hand before and he figured it was okay if it took him awhile to get used
to the details that went along with being part of a couple. He’d have to
remember to ask Joxer how long it would take to get used to that weird
fluttery feeling in his stomach whenever he saw Strife, like someone was
tickling the inside of his stomach with a thousand tiny feathers. He could
probably get a straight answer out of his dad on that one too, but somehow
it was just easier to pose any potentially embarrassing questions to someone
he wasn’t related to.

While he had a hold of Strife’s hand he figured he might as well make the
most of it, though, so he squeezed the fingers that were entwined with him.
That got him a slight squeeze in response, and by the time Strife led him
through a door into a brightly lit room he was sure he was never going to
stop smiling. As soon as they stepped into the dressing room Strife let go
of Cupid’s hand, and three pairs of eyes turned to look at the small group
gathered just inside the door.

“What the hell is this?”

Cupid was pretty sure the one glaring suspiciously at them was Hercules,
although he hadn’t spent a lot of time worrying about which one of the other
two guys in the band was which. The drummer was looking at them with a
mixture of confusion and uncertainty, and his gaze kept wandering to the
guitarist. Xena at least looked amused by their unexpected appearance.

“Don’t fuckin’ start,” Strife growled at the most angry-looking of the band
members. “Cupe’s friends wanna meet Xena, not you.”

“Me?” Xena said, her blue eyes wide with surprise as she looked past Strife
to Psyche and Auto.

“Yeah, sure,” Strife answered, grinning at his cousin’s obvious shock. “Got
yerself some fans already, cuz.”

Hercules was watching the exchange with the air of someone that had recently
discovered their ship was sinking and there was no land anywhere in sight.
He turned to look over his shoulder at his best friend, but Iolaus just
shrugged and went back to watching the exchange. “Wait a second. We’re not
running a fucking daycare here, Strife. They’re not even old enough to be
in the fucking club.”

“Neither is Strife,” Iolaus reminded him, but as soon as Hercules turned to
look at him again he clamped his mouth shut and looked down at the floor.

“They’re in fucking high school,” Hercules said. “It’s totally different.”

“Dude, what’s the big deal? My girlfriend just wanted to meet your bassist.
Jesus,” Auto muttered. He turned to glare at Cupid, his arms crossed over
his chest as he slouched against the wall. “Nice friends, Cupe.”

“It ain’t his fault Herc’s got a big fuckin’ mouth,” Strife snapped,
shifting his glare from Hercules to Auto.

As soon as he said it Auto pushed himself off the wall, but before he took
more than a step Psyche was in front of him, her hands on his chest to hold
him back. “Don’t, Auto. Seriously, you’re totally outnumbered and I
seriously doubt Cupid would take your side in this one.”

“So I’m the only one that’s got a problem with this?” Hercules asked no one
in particular, glancing around the room at his band mates.

Iolaus and Auto both opened their mouths to answer, but Cupid never heard
what either of them said. The sounds of the quickly escalating argument
faded as soon as Strife’s hand closed around his again, and when he felt a
tug on his arm he turned and followed the other boy without question. Less
than thirty seconds later he found himself inside a dark closet, his back
pressing into what he hoped was a mop.

”Ow.” He laughed nervously and moved to lean against the door, reaching out
blindly in the darkness to pull Strife closer. “Are you sure it’s safe to
leave them alone? Auto and Hercules might kill each other.”

“Nah, they’re just showin’ off,” Strife assured him. Warm hands landed on
his hips, the hazy outline of Strife’s body slowly coming into focus as his
eyes adjusted to the darkness. “Herc’s just pissed ‘cause he didn’t get his
way. Iolaus won’t let ‘im do anythin’ dumb.”

Cupid opened his mouth to point out that Iolaus didn’t look like he could
stop Hercules from doing much of anything, but before he managed to get the
words out he was silenced by a pair of soft lips. As soon as their lips
touched he remembered what they were doing backstage in the first place, and
why he’d been worried about wasting any time at all. Thanks to Hercules and
Auto they probably only had a few minutes before the band had to be back
onstage, and he wasn’t going to waste it arguing with Strife about whether
or not Iolaus could stop Hercules from killing Auto.

He wrapped his arms around Strife’s waist, palms flat against the other
boy’s skin as he parted is lips to deepen the kiss. They’d only been
officially dating for three days, but it had already been way too long since
they last saw each other, at least as far as Cupid was concerned. Judging
by the way Strife was kissing him back he had a feeling he wasn’t the only
one that thought 48 hours was too long to go without seeing each other, and
he wasn’t sure how he was going to survive until the end of the school year.
It wasn’t that far away, but when he thought about it in terms of his new
relationship it felt like forever.

As soon as Strife pulled away to breathe Cupid buried his face in the other
boy’s neck, his tongue darting out to taste the salty tang of Strife’s skin.
A shudder rolled through the body against his as Cupid opened his mouth
against Strife’s neck, and Strife’s hands left his hips to stroke his hair.

“Cupe,” Strife gasped, his breathing ragged as he tightened his grip on
Cupid’s hair and forced the other boy to look at him, “I gotta get back.”

“I know,” Cupid said, not bothering to stifle a disappointed sigh. “I’ve
just been thinking about doing that since we got here.”

“I been thinkin’ ‘bout a lotta things since I left yer house, but if I go
back onstage hard everybody in tha club’s gonna know what I been thinkin’.”

Cupid wanted to ask why that was such a bad thing, but he settled for
leaning forward to plant another chaste kiss on the side of Strife’s mouth.
“It’s alright. We’ve got all weekend.”

Strife grinned at the mention of their plans, but his smile faded as he
looked Cupid up and down. “Didn’t ya bring any stuff with ya?”

“I keep some clothes and stuff at my dad’s place. He made me promise I’d
come by this weekend, it was either that or he wouldn’t cover for me with my
mom.”

“Yer dad…ya mean ya gotta go hang out over there? When?”

This wasn’t exactly the way Cupid had planned to spring the news on Strife;
in fact he’d been hoping to catch him with his guard down, like maybe right
after incredible, mind-blowing sex. He definitely hadn’t planned to
confront Strife with his father’s stipulations while they were pressed
together in a broom closet in the back of the club. There was no way to
take it back now, though, no matter how much he regretted bringing up his
father.

“He kinda wants us to come over for dinner tomorrow. He’s a really good
cook,” Cupid added quickly, hoping that somehow that would soften the blow
of having a boyfriend whose parents were totally overprotective. “If you
don’t want to I can just go over there by myself. He wants to meet you but
I can make up something…”

“Cupe, relax.” Strife’s hand began moving in his hair again, stroking
soothingly as he interrupted the rambling speech. “It’s cool that he’s
lookin’ out fer ya. If ya don’t think he’ll freak when he sees me I’ll go.”

“Yeah?” Cupid’s features lit up in a bright grin, his eyes shining even in
the darkness of the closet. “He’ll love you. And his boyfriend’s totally
cool.”

“I wouldn’t count on him bein’ crazy ‘bout me. I ain’t exactly what most
folks hope their kids’ll drag home with ‘em.”

For a second Cupid was almost sure he saw a flash of pure misery in Strife’s
eyes, then the other boy blinked and it was gone. He tried to convince
himself that he’d imagined it, that Strife wasn’t the type of guy to worry
about what anyone thought of him. Then again, he was the same guy that had
dragged Cupid into a closet for their first kiss in three days instead of
just kissing him out in the club, so maybe there was more to them more or
less sneaking around than what the band’s fan base would think.

“You’re wrong,” he said before he had time to talk himself out of it. He
leaned forward again and pressed his lips to Strife’s, trying to convey
everything he couldn’t bring himself to say with a kiss. He didn’t even
know the words for some of the things he felt whenever he found himself in
Strife’s company, but he knew if he wasn’t careful that he’d end up blurting
out something they’d both regret.

Long before he was ready to let go again a knock sounded on the door,
echoing in his ears and making him wince and jerk away from the door.
“Strife, let’s go,” Xena shouted through the door. “We were supposed to be
back onstage five minutes ago.”

A heavy sigh escaped the older boy’s throat as he disentangled himself from
Cupid and reached around the other boy to pull the door open. “Yeah, yeah,
I’m comin’,” he muttered. He was halfway across the room when he stopped
and turned back to Cupid, crossing the room again in three long strides to
plant a hard kiss on the younger boy’s lips. Too soon he pulled away,
letting out a frustrated snarl as he turned and walked out of the room
without another look back.

Cupid watched until he disappeared into the darkness of the hallway, a smile
that could only be described as lovestruck plastered on his face. When
Strife was gone he shook his head and let out a soft laugh, clearing his
throat before he looked up to find Auto and Psyche watching him. “Guess
we’re gonna have to find another table,” he said as he walked past his
friends into the hallway.



Psyche started to follow Cupid out of the dressing room, but before she
reached the door she felt a hand close around her arm to stop her. She
turned and wrenched her arm out of the grip, her eyes flashing as she met
Auto's scowl.

"What the hell was that all about?" Auto hissed, glancing over her shoulder
to make sure Cupid hadn't come back looking for them. "You're supposed to
be helping me convince Cupid that this guy's no good, not making friends
with his band."

"I never agreed to help you convince Cupid of anything," she reminded him.
As soon as she said it his scowl faded, and she felt a twinge of guilt at
the obvious misery marring his dark features. "Come on, Auto, he's in love.
Just leave it alone."

"In love? How can he be in love with that guy? He doesn't even know him."

"Seems to me like he knows what he needs to know," Psyche answered. A soft
sigh escaped her lips as she watched Auto's eyes cloud before he looked
away. "Look, I know it's hard to get used to not having him all to
ourselves anymore, but he was bound to find somebody eventually. We've
still got each other, though, right?"

She knew better than to ask him that question, and the truth was she wasn't
really looking for an answer. She was just trying to make him feel better,
and if he got the gentle hint that Cupid was taken it would be better for
him in the long run. So she should have been prepared for the look he gave
her, but no matter how many times she'd told herself they were growing apart
there was no way she'd ever have been ready for the blank look on his face.
It only lasted a second before he realized what she meant and nodded, but it
was long enough to tell her what she needed to know.

"Yeah, sure, babe," he said, giving her the same grin he used when he was
lying to his parents about something. She'd never expected him to lie to
her, or to think he could get away with it. Maybe he didn't have any real
feelings for her beyond friendship, but she'd always expected him to be up
front with her about their relationship. She blinked rapidly to clear the
stinging in her eyes, telling herself she was not going to cry about
something she'd known all along. He'd called her his girlfriend for almost
three years, but she'd always known it was more or less just for show.
Someday he was going to face the fact that she couldn't give him what he
wanted, and maybe if Cupid had fallen for him instead of Strife he'd finally
be ready to take that last step. She wasn't going to keep helping him
pretend anymore, though, especially not when it was starting to hurt both of
them.

She watched him walk out of the room without looking back, her heart sinking
as she realized she didn't even have a choice. Maybe if he'd woken up a
little earlier he might have had a chance, but anyone could see just by
looking at Cupid that it was way too late now. Unless Strife did something
to totally screw up there was no way Cupid was going to change his mind, and
Psyche really, really hoped Strife wouldn't screw up and break his heart.
Auto could bounce back from heartbreak, he could take the disappointment and
move on eventually. She wasn't so sure about Cupid.

A throat cleared behind her and she realized for the first time that she
wasn't alone, turning on her heel only to find herself face to face with
Xena. "Oh, sorry, I thought everybody was gone."

"The only time it's safe to go anywhere near the bathroom is after they're
all back on stage," Xena said, smiling almost apologetically as she gestured
in the direction of a door toward the back of the room. "Look, I've gotta
get back out there, but we didn't really get a chance to talk. Did you…you
know, want something?"

"No, I just…" Psyche trailed off and glanced in the direction of the door,
feeling a little stupid for the first time since she and Auto had started
the game they played with whoever happened to pique their interest. She'd
never really stopped to wonder how it made the third person feel, and she
was grateful that Cupid had been smart enough to say no even after Auto
refused to let it go. The fact that she'd come back here with every
intention of propositioning Xena made her stomach drop suddenly; it wasn't
that she wasn't attracted to the other girl, but for the first time since
she and Auto started sleeping together she felt every bit the slut that half
the girls at school called her when they thought she couldn’t hear them. "I
just wanted to tell you how good you sound out there. It's cool to see a
girl playing the bass, doesn’t happen that often."

Xena nodded, her smile turning almost shy at the compliment. "Thanks. I
better get back out there before Herc blows a gasket or something."

"Yeah, sure," Psyche said. She managed a weak smile and turned to walk
ahead of Xena out of the room, but before she reached the door she thought
better of it and turned back. "You and Strife are cousins, right?"

"Why?"

"I just…he really likes Cupid, doesn't he? I mean he's not just fooling
around, is he?"

Xena's expression softened at the hint of desperation in Psyche's voice, and
she smiled affectionately at the thought of her cousin and his new
boyfriend. "I've never seen him like this over anybody. I mean he grew up
in Detroit so we didn't see much of each other except during the summer, but
we talked on the phone and stuff and this is the first time I've seen him
like this. He can't even remember the words to half our songs."

"Yeah?" Psyche's whole face lit up in a genuine smile, her mood lifting a
little in spite of her own complicated love life. "Thanks, Xena. At least
one of us got what they wanted."

Xena watched her curiously for a long moment, but before Psyche had a chance
to get uncomfortable under the other girl’s heavy gaze she shook her head
and smiled sheepishly. “I better get back. See you around.”

“Yeah, see you.” Psyche nodded as the other girl brushed past her, letting
out a deep breath as she let the last few minutes of her life sink in. She
was glad she hadn’t gone through with her original plan to try to seduce
Xena, if for no other reason than because she didn’t want to risk screwing
things up for Cupid. Things were already messy enough without her and Auto
using Strife’s cousin, and she wasn’t all that sure she wanted to be with
Auto anymore anyway. When she realized she was still standing in the band’s
dressing room she shook her head and turned toward the door, steeling her
nerves for the questions she’d get when she found her friends again.

She found Auto and Cupid back at the same table they'd been sitting at
earlier, but she didn't bother asking how they'd intimidated whoever had
taken their seats into moving. Her brain was too full of questions to even
think about it, really; questions about what she'd been doing all this time
with Auto, about how Cupid fit into all of it and what was going to happen
if he found out that his best friend had a thing for him. He never would
find out if she had anything to say about it, and she was pretty sure Auto
wouldn't want him to know. Auto couldn't even admit it to her, so the
chances of him telling Cupid were pretty slim. Which meant all she had to
do was find a way to keep Auto from interfering in Cupid's love life and
they'd all come out friends in the end.

"I'm getting more beers," Auto announced suddenly, standing up and walking
away without bothering to look at either of them. As soon as he was gone
Cupid leaned toward her, tearing his gaze away from Strife long enough to
level a serious look at her.

"What the fuck is his problem?"

She stifled a sigh and told herself she’d been expecting the question and a
lot worse, and she should just be grateful neither of them had bothered to
ask her where she’d disappeared to. "He doesn't like change, you know how
he gets. You're his best friend, Cupe. It'll just take him awhile to
adjust."

"I thought you were his best friend."

Psyche shrugged without quite meeting his gaze. "Maybe I was a long time
ago, before we had sex. I don't know, Cupid, everything changes when you
sleep together. Auto's not the same guy he was when we first met."

"Oh." Cupid frowned at her, but when she didn't offer any more of an
explanation he cleared his throat and nodded toward the stage. "So how'd
things go back there?"

"The musclebound one stormed out pretty much right after you and Strife
split," she answered, grateful for any opportunity to change the subject.
"After that Auto calmed down a little. That blond guy took off after
what's-his-face not long after."

"No, I mean what happened with Xena?"

"Oh. Nothing. I hardly talked to her."

"I thought you were interested."

Psyche smiled at what she usually thought of as Cupid's 'cute-and-confused'
look. She glanced up at the stage in time to watch Xena flip her long hair
back over her shoulders, noticing for the first time just how blue her eyes
were. "They've got the same eyes," she said half to herself.

"Who?"

“Xena and Strife. Guess I should have guessed they were related." She
could see what Cupid saw in Strife; the eyes were almost startling on both
of them, but coupled with the dark hair and pale skin they were even more
striking. They shared a smile that made them both look like they were up to
something, and Psyche found herself regretting not talking to Xena more
while she had the chance. Finally she let out a sigh and told herself she
didn't even have a reason to think Xena would be interested in a one-night
stand with her and Auto, turning back to Cupid and hoping he wouldn't notice
her mood. "I figured it was a bad idea, seeing as they're cousins and all.
I don't want to cause any problems for you with your guy."

Cupid's bright grin made it worth passing up the chance to get closer to
Xena, and Psyche told herself she'd made the right decision. She and Auto
couldn't keep up their game forever anyway, especially not now that she was
sure he had feelings for Cupid. Besides, she really didn't want to be
responsible for screwing things up for Strife and Cupid, not when she knew
how they felt about each other.

~

Nobody could complain about their second set of the night. They'd gone out
there and played all the songs they were supposed to play, nobody had
screwed anything up and Strife had remembered all the lyrics. The fact that
it felt off was probably just because Strife knew Herc was still seriously
pissed at him, and he was sure the audience didn't even notice. That was
the important thing; as long as the audience had a good time they were doing
their job, and they wouldn't have a furious night club owner on their hands
at the end of the night canceling their gigs for the rest of the weekend.

Part of Strife wouldn't even have minded if they did cancel, because that
meant he and Cupid could spend the whole weekend together uninterrupted.
Well, there was this dinner at Cupid's old man's place, which was bound to
be weird and Strife still wasn't sure why he'd agreed to it so readily. The
weirdest thing was that part of him wanted to go, and he couldn't decide if
it was because he wanted to meet Cupid's family or if he was hoping Cupid's
father would take one look at him and order Cupid never to speak to him
again.

The thing was that part of him still thought they were making a colossal
mistake, and that one day Cupid was going to wake up and realize he could do
way better. The part of him that was already totally gone on Cupid wouldn't
let him walk away, though, so in a way he was hoping somebody else would do
it for him. The sooner it happened the less it would hurt, right? Only he
had a feeling that Cupid meant it when he smiled at him like he was the only
other guy in the world. It was crazy and unbelievable and Strife was in
serious danger of losing it just from thinking about it all the time.

When their second set ended he let out a deep breath and started toward the
front of the stage to see Cupid and maybe get a drink, but before he got two
feet away from the microphone stand Hercules was blocking his path.

"We need to talk."

He didn't bother resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he didn't really care
whether or not it would just make Hercules that much angrier. "I got
nothin' ta say, Herc."

"Yeah, well I do. We had a deal, Strife."

"A stupid fuckin' deal," Strife amended, his hands on his hips as he stared
back at his friend. "Fuck, Herc, ya want me ta bail on the guy just 'cause
Iphicles got hitched? It's dumb."

"It is kinda dumb, Herc," Iolaus added. He was standing a few steps behind
Strife, his arms crossed over his chest defensively as he watched his
roommates face off. "I mean if he likes the guy…"

"He barely knows the guy," Hercules said. It was obvious he was getting
exasperated, but Strife wasn't about to back down. They could have it out
on the stage if Hercules wanted, at least that meant they didn't have to
fight about it at their apartment where Cupid would be able to hear them.

"I know Cupe a lot bettah than the chicks yer always bringin' home. An'
he's crashin' with me this weekend, so get used to it."

“Whoa, wait a second," Iolaus said, drawing surprised glances from both his
roommates. "The whole weekend? I mean some guy staying with you overnight
is one thing, but a whole weekend?"

Strife rolled his eyes again, part of him wishing he could think of a way to
get Iolaus to deal with the real reason having guys around the apartment
made him so uncomfortable. He was almost sure he was right about the
reason, but so far he hadn't been able to trick Iolaus into admitting it.
If nothing else it would make Strife's life a whole lot easier to have one
of his friends more or less on his side, although he was pretty sure it
would ruin Herc's whole view of the universe. "Yeah, the whole weekend.
We'll stay outta the shower if that's what yer worried 'bout."

As soon as he brought up Cupid's last visit to their place Iolaus turned a
bright shade of red and looked away, clearing his throat noisily. Before
Strife had a chance to find his friend's discomfort amusing Hercules took
another step forward, his voice dropping to barely a whisper. "Strife, do
you know what this could do to us? I'm not just talking about the band
staying together. What if somebody finds out?"

Strife had used the same argument with Cupid just three days ago, and he'd
meant it when he said it. He knew as well as Hercules that if word got out
that he was gay that they could pretty much kiss their music careers
goodbye, at least as far as the punk scene was concerned. For some reason
when Hercules said it it sounded a lot uglier, though, almost like it was a
threat. He felt sick just knowing that he'd said those same words to Cupid,
and that he'd actually expected to be able to keep their relationship a
secret from the world.

"Ya think I'd forget somethin' like that?" he snapped, anger flashing in his
blue eyes. Hercules took an involuntary step backwards, his fists clenching
at his sides as he backed away.

"I'm just saying…"

"I fuckin' know what yer sayin' and I don't wanna hear it."

"Fine."

"Fine."

He couldn't remember the last time one of their arguments had degenerated
into single syllables, but when Hercules turned and stormed off the stage
Strife knew there was no sense following him. If he did they'd just end up
saying something at least one of them was going to regret, and he didn't
really want the band to break up over something that wasn't even any of
Hercules' business. He turned on his heel, intent on storming off in the
opposite direction, but as soon as he did he remembered that Iolaus was
still standing there.

"Don't tell me yer gonna start now."

"No," Iolaus answered automatically. When he looked up again it was with an
obvious effort, and Strife rolled his eyes as he realized his friend was
still blushing.

"Jesus, Iolaus, would ya just come out already? There's nothin' wrong with
it."

Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best way to approach the situation, because
Iolaus turned an even deeper shade of red and then his eyes narrowed
dangerously. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Sure ya don't. Look, if yer not gonna pick up where Herc left off then
wouldya get the fuck outta my way? I need a fuckin' drink."

He moved forward to walk around Iolaus, but as soon as he started past the
other boy Iolaus reached out and stopped him. As soon as he realized he was
touching Strife he pulled his hand away again, a mixture of fear and what
Strife could only guess was frustration shining in his eyes. “Look, Strife,
it doesn’t matter to me if you…you know, if you’ve got a…a boyfriend. I
don’t even care how old he is. Neither does Herc.”

Strife raised an eyebrow at his last words. “Gimme a break. Herc’s about
ta lose it and it ain’t ‘cause he doesn’t like my hairstyle.”

“I know, but it’s not…” Iolaus paused and let out a frustrated sigh,
glancing over Strife’s shoulder as he watched Hercules climb back onto the
stage and pick up his guitar. He cleared his throat nervously, and when he
turned back to Strife his voice was even softer. “He’s still got this idea
in his head that we’re going somewhere with this thing, you know? Like
we’re gonna be the next Ramones or something. So when he sees you breaking
his stupid rule it’s hard for him to think nothing’s gonna change.”

“I know all this, ‘Laus. What’re ya getting’ at?” Strife cast a longing
glance in the direction of the bar, wishing he’d at least put some water on
stage before they started their show. There was no way he was getting
anything to drink before the last set, and he could forget about stealing
another few minutes alone with Cupid.

“All I’m saying is you should cut him some slack. He’s just worried about
the band. And then you bring those kids backstage and the big one starts
giving him attitude…who was that kid, anyway?”

Strife shook his head dismissively and glanced in the direction of Cupid’s
table. He couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth
when his eyes locked with Cupid’s for a second, then he looked over to find
Auto glaring at the back of Cupid’s head. Something about the way he was
looking at Cupid made Strife wonder what exactly he was missing, and he made
a mental note to ask Cupid what Auto’s story was when they finally got a
chance to be alone.

“Dunno. Some friend a Cupe’s. Why?”

Iolaus shrugged when Strife turned back to him, casting a quick glance in
Cupid’s direction before fixing his gaze resolutely on the stage in front of
his feet. “He just seems kinda invested in your boyfriend’s personal life
is all.”

“They’re friends.”

“Look, Strife, I don’t know the guy. For all I know there’s nothing going
on. I’m just saying that your disappearing act with Cupid seemed to piss
him off even more. I thought that knock-out he was with was his girlfriend,
but she sure seemed like she knew what was going on with him and the kid.”

“There’s nothin’ goin’ on with him and Cupe,” Strife said, but he found
himself glancing in the direction of his boyfriend again. Auto and Psyche
were pulling jackets on, and Strife could only assume they were leaving to
catch the last train back to Jersey. He watched as Psyche bent down to kiss
Cupid’s cheek, tensing as he wondered if Auto was going to follow her lead.
The other boy leaned over and said something directly into Cupid’s ear, but
Strife couldn’t tell from Cupid’s reaction if it was ‘see ya later’ or
something more important.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he tore his gaze away from the scene at
Cupid’s table, focusing on Iolaus again. “I’m not saying there’s anything
going on, Strife. All I’m saying is watch your back.”

Strife nodded as he watched Iolaus walk away, his head swimming with a
hundred different questions about what exactly he’d gotten himself into. He
really didn’t know that much about Cupid, but he didn’t think he’d mess
around with one of his friends behind Strife’s back. At least he hoped not,
because if Cupid was that kind of guy then Strife was already falling for
somebody he really didn’t know at all.



At the end of their third set Strife caught Cupid’s eye and nodded in the
direction of the stage door, hoping Cupid would take the hint and meet him
backstage. Almost immediately Cupid grinned and stood up, and Strife had a
hard time staying onstage long enough to finish their last song. As soon as
they were done he headed offstage, thankful that at least they could just
leave their equipment set up for the next night’s show. All he really
wanted to do was get out of the club and get Cupid alone somewhere where
they could talk, which was strange considering talking was usually the last
thing on his mind when he had Cupid all to himself.

It was going to take awhile to get used to the fact that he actually liked
just hanging out with somebody he was sleeping with, but he figured it would
be worth it in the long run. Besides, he didn’t want to do a whole *lot* of
talking, not for tonight, anyway. All he really wanted to find out was the
story behind Auto’s attitude problem, the rest of the conversation could
wait until tomorrow.

When he got backstage he found Cupid leaning against the wall waiting for
him, a shy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth when he spotted Strife
walking toward him. As soon as Strife stopped in front of him Cupid’s smile
faded, though, and Strife’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“Is everything okay?”

The question took him by surprise, but the hand that reached out to stroke
his cheek did things to his stomach that shouldn’t have been possible from a
single touch. “Yeah, sure, Cupe.”

“It’s just that you looked kinda pissed when you were talking to the guys
onstage. And just now…I don’t know, it looked like you were still kind of
mad. You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Why would I be mad at ya?”

“Because Auto acted like a complete jerk. I never should have invited him
tonight.”

Strife glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the stage door, half
expecting the rest of the band to be right behind him. He hadn't been able
to get what Iolaus said out of his mind all through their last set, and now
that Cupid was standing in front of him looking miserable his doubt came
creeping right back in. "What's the deal with that guy, anyway?"

Cupid let out a frustrated breath and looked down at Strife's bare chest.
"I don't know, sometimes he gets this idea in his head that he has to
protect me, I guess. Like he thinks I'm gonna get hurt."

Strife opened his mouth to say something along the lines of 'I wouldn't hurt
you', maybe even throw in the word 'never' just for good measure. He
stopped himself just in time, shaking his head to clear the unsettling
thought. "Look, Cupe, if there's somethin' between you and this Auto guy ya
gotta tell me now."

"What are you talking about? We're just friends, Strife, I swear. I
wouldn't…I mean I thought you and me…aren't we like…together?"

Cupid's expression alone was enough to make Strife feel like the biggest
jerk to ever walk the earth, but coupled with the stammered question and the
blush rising steadily in the younger boy's cheeks and Strife found himself
wishing he could take back the few hours of his life. "We are, Cupe," he
answered quickly. "It's just somethin' Iolaus said, forget it."

"What'd he say?"

"Nothin'. Look, let's get outta here before Herc shows up again. I can't
deal with another round with him tonight."

"Yeah, sure," Cupid said, pushing himself off the wall and following Strife
into the dressing room. He waited silently while Strife found his shirt and
jacket and pulled them on, falling into step beside the other boy as Strife
led him to the back door of the club. The silence between them felt heavy
on the way back to Strife's apartment, but he wasn't sure what to do about
it or even why things suddenly felt different. Maybe it was the fact that
they'd just cemented the fact that they had an exclusive commitment, but as
scary as it was to actually say it out loud they'd pretty much already
decided that back at Cupid's place.

So maybe the suggestion that he and Auto had something going on was what was
bothering Cupid, which made Strife an even bigger jerk than Hercules for
suggesting it in the first place. He'd known it wasn't true, but even the
idea that it could be would have kept him awake every night until he finally
just broke down and asked. That didn't make him feel any less like he'd
just ruined something, though, and when they finally reached the privacy of
his apartment he swallowed a rush of nerves and turned to face the other
boy.

"Look, Cupe, what I said back at the club, just forget it, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Cupid answered automatically. He looked tired suddenly, and
without thinking Strife reached out and took his hand. They made it as far
as his bedroom door before Cupid stopped suddenly, surprising the older boy
into looking up at him again. "It's just…why would Iolaus think something
was going on between me and Auto?"

Strife swallowed a sigh and let go of Cupid's hand, taking off his jacket
and turning to toss it on his dresser so he wouldn't have to look at the
other boy. "I dunno, he said somethin' 'bout Iolaus seemin' too interested
in yer love life. It was while we were in the closet. I mean I wouldn't
blame the guy…just look at ya." Strife's gaze wandered appreciatively up and
down Cupid's frame, taking in the sight of all that muscle wrapped in black
leather pants and a tee shirt that was torn in several places over his
chest. "I just like ta know who the competition is, ya know?"

"No competition," Cupid said as he closed the distance between them and
reached out to rest a tentative hand on Strife's neck. "I mean when I first
met him and Psyche they were…you know…interested. But after I turned them
down we became friends. He's brought it up a couple times but I'm pretty
sure he's just joking around. Anyway he knows I wouldn't…it would be too
weird, even if I hadn't met you. And I'm pretty sure I couldn't do it with
a girl anyway."

"Wait a second. Yer sayin'…both of 'em? Like some kinda package deal?"

"Yeah." Cupid blushed and pulled his hand away from Strife's face, suddenly
looking like he wished the floor would open up and swallow him so he
wouldn't have to explain his friends' kinks to his new boyfriend. "That's
kinda why Psyche wanted to meet Xena. She changed her mind, though. She
said she didn't want to screw things up between me and you."

"No kiddin'." Strife shook his head at the thought of his cousin being
propositioned by both of Cupid's friends, a grin tugging at the corners of
his mouth when he pictured her reaction. "Xena never woulda gone fer
somethin' like that anyway. Maybe with yer friend Psyche, but not with tha
other one. She's not into guys. She's been hung up on this one chick fer
so long that we're startin' ta wonder if she's ever gonna get over it. When
ya said yer friend wanted ta meet her I thought maybe it'd take her mind
offa Gabbie. She's not much fer casual, though."

"I'm sorry, Strife, I shouldn’t have asked in the first place."

"Xena's a big girl, she can take care a herself. I'd kinda like ta see her
reaction ta that, ta tell ya the truth."

"So you're not mad at me for bringing my weird friends to the show tonight?"

And God, the kid looked so hopeful that Strife had to stop himself from
wrapping his arms around Cupid and telling him that he could never be mad at
him, not unless Cupid changed his mind one day and decided Strife wasn't
good enough for him after all. Instead he shook his head and took a step
forward, grabbing hold of the other boy's hips and backing him toward the
bed. He was pretty sure after what Cupid had said that Auto did have a
thing for him, but if Cupid wanted to pretend it wasn't there Strife could
live with that. Cupid was spending the night with him, after all, and if
that Auto guy had been trying to get in his pants since they met then
chances were it was never gonna happen.

He took his time getting them both out of their clothes, enjoying the
feeling of Cupid's skin under his hands for the first time in days. Once he
had Cupid out of his tee shirt he pushed him back onto the bed, taking a few
moments to enjoy the sight of the other boy in nothing but leather. He'd
hadn't let himself count on Cupid showing up in tight leather pants, but he
was thankful to whatever deity was responsible for popular fashion.

"Jesus, Cupe," he murmured as he slid off the mattress to kneel in front of
the younger boy, reaching for a foot and tugging Cupid's thick black boot
off. There was something about the sight of him in bare feet, his lips
slightly parted as he watched Strife undress him that made Strife's heart
lodge in his throat. He looked…vulnerable was the first word that popped
into Strife's head, and he didn't even know he knew that word until he saw
it reflected in Cupid's eyes. He never thought the sight of someone looking
so needy would turn him on; he'd always thought of 'needy' as a weakness,
something that would let people know that he didn't really know how to take
care of himself after all.

On Cupid it looked, good, though - better than good, it looked perfect on
him - and the fact that Strife was what he needed made him want to Cupid
with an urgency he didn't know was possible. He wasn't sure how long he'd
been kneeling on the floor just looking, but he snapped out of it when Cupid
reached for the button of his pants and began slowly peeling them down his
hips. Strife stayed where he was, his hands twitching at his sides as Cupid
stood up and pushed the leather down until it pooled on the floor at his
feet.

He wanted everything at once; he wanted to push Cupid back onto the mattress
and take him hard and fast, to claim him the only way he could think of. He
wanted to mark him so the whole world would know he was taken, so everyone
that Cupid even looked at while they weren't together would know that this
was his. He settled for reaching out with shaking fingers and running his
hands over the fine hairs on Cupid's thighs, smiling at the shiver that
rolled through the other boy as his eyelids fluttered closed. One hand left
Cupid's leg to grip the base of his cock, and as soon as he felt hot velvet
twitch against his hand he knew exactly what he wanted.

Cupid's legs trembled as Strife stroked him slowly, strong hands gripping
his shoulders hard enough to bruise. He leaned forward and ran his tongue
along the other boy's length, his free hand moving to Cupid's hip to hold
him up as his mouth closed around the head of Cupid's cock. A surprised
gasp followed by an incoherent murmur let Strife know how close Cupid was to
losing control, so he tightened his grip on the base of his dick and pulled
his mouth away.

At the loss of contact Cupid's eyes snapped open, his mouth open in a silent
protest. Before he found his voice Strife pushed him back onto the bed,
standing up long enough to locate a condom and some lube. When he turned
back to the other boy Cupid was still sitting on the edge of the bed, legs
sprawled in front of him as he watched Strife cross the room. "Fuck, Cupe,"
Strife said when he stopped in front of the other boy. "Yer so goddamn
beautiful."

He smiled at the blush that crept into Cupid's cheeks, dropping the condom
and lube on the mattress before he pushed the other boy backwards and
crawled over him. "Ya don't even know, do ya?" Strife whispered when their
eyes met again. His mouth hovered just inches away from Cupid's, and he
reached out and pushed a few locks of blond hair away from his forehead.
"Yer perfect, Cupe."

Cupid shook his head but didn't answer, and Strife was almost sure he'd
pushed the compliment too far when suddenly he found himself being flipped
onto his back. It was so fast that he didn't even realize Cupid had moved
until the other boy was on top of him, the evidence of his arousal pressing
into Strife's thigh as he stretched out on top of the older boy. "You're
the one that's beautiful, Strife. Your eyes…" Cupid paused long enough to
lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to each of Strife's eyelids before he
pulled back again. "…and your mouth," he added, tracing the curve of the
older boy's mouth with his fingertip. "And your neck." The finger left his
mouth to brush the mark Cupid had left on his neck earlier that night. "I
think…"

Before he had a chance to finish the sentence Strife surged up, fusing their
mouths together in a desperate kiss. He wasn't sure if Cupid was going to
say what it sounded like he was about to say, but he wasn't willing to take
any chances. He had no idea what it would do to him to hear those words out
loud, but he knew he wouldn't be able to believe them. Part of him wanted
to hear them more than anything, though, and that was the very reason he
couldn't let Cupid say it out loud.

When he finally released the other boy's mouth Cupid was panting for air,
and Strife let go of him long enough to fumble on the mattress for the
condom he'd dropped. When he found it he tore open the package and pushed
at Cupid's hip until he rolled off Strife a little, then Strife reached out
with trembling fingers and eased the condom onto Cupid's cock. He could
tell the other boy hadn't been expecting that by the way his eyes got wide,
and he couldn't help grinning as he reached for the lube and squeezed some
onto his fingers.

"I want ya in me, Cupe. Now," he added, gripping the other boy's cock long
enough to run a slick hand over the condom. Cupid nodded jerkily and let
Strife pull his hand away before he settled between the other boy's legs
again, pushing Strife's knees a little further apart as he lined himself up.

For his second time he was…well, he probably wasn't nervous so much as
overexcited, but even his lack of finesse was charming. Strife wrapped his
legs around Cupid's waist as he reached between them, pushing himself up
long enough to guide the other boy into position. Once he felt the head of
Cupid's cock pressing against his entrance he let out a deep breath and
pushed down, biting his lip to hold back a gasp as he felt himself being
stretched.

He forced his eyes open to find Cupid watching him, his expression a mixture
of concern and tension as he struggled not to move before Strife was ready.
The knowledge that Cupid cared enough about him to worry about his comfort
made his heart skip another beat, and he reached down and caught one of
Cupid's hands in his. "Go," he said, his voice rough with his own need.
"Hard, I wanna feel it tomorrow."

Cupid grinned at that, his whole body relaxing as he sank into Strife's
tight heat. When he was buried as deep as he could get he paused long
enough to plant a soft kiss on the other boy's lips. Before Strife had time
to argue about the lack of movement he pulled away again, pulling out almost
all the way and then slamming back into Strife. He wasn't sure if he'd
survive the onslaught, but he'd asked for it and at the moment it felt
amazing. Even the slight burn of the stretch felt good, and every time
Cupid's cock brushed his prostate he let out a surprised yelp that would
have embarrassed him if he'd had any prayer at all of stopping it.

Cupid wasn't laughing at him, though, and the hand that was still entwined
with his squeezed gently with every stroke. Strife felt a hysterical laugh
bubbling up in his chest at the intimacy of the situation; this was the kind
of thing he'd spend most of his teenager years avoiding, and now he couldn't
remember why. He couldn't imagine feeling this comfortable or this close to
any of his ex-boyfriends, though, and somehow it seemed natural to him that
he'd found with Cupid what he'd told himself for so long he didn't want.

Too soon Cupid tensed against him, his whole body shaking with the force of
his orgasm. Strife pulled his hand out of the other boy's to wrap his arms
around Cupid's back, reveling in the feeling of solid warmth pressed against
him. For long moments Cupid lay still with his face pressed into Strife's
neck, his breathing shallow and his body trembling with the aftershocks of
his release. When his breathing finally began to even out he turned his
head, blindly seeking out Strife's mouth with his own. Their lips met in a
slow, languid kiss as Cupid pushed himself up enough to reach between them,
closing his fist around Strife's still painfully hard cock.

Strife groaned against Cupid's mouth and jerked into the other boy's grip,
his hips thrusting up to meet each of Cupid's strokes. Cupid was still
buried deep inside him, and he felt the other boy's cock twitch with each
contraction of his muscles. Before long he was moaning his own release
against Cupid's mouth, warm moisture covering Cupid's hand and both their
stomachs when he came. It felt way too good to have Cupid stretched out on
top of him, but Strife knew if he didn't make him move soon that they were
going to have an even bigger mess on their hands.

"Cupe," he murmured into the other boy's hair, his voice sounding far away
and sated. "Ya gotta get up."

"Don't wanna." Grunted against his neck, and Cupid sounded impossibly
younger than seventeen.

Strife smiled but didn't open his eyes; Cupid felt good on top of him, their
bodies still connected in the most intimate way possible. The last thing he
wanted to do was make him move, and suddenly he couldn't remember why it was
so important.

"Cupe…we gotta…" He frowned as he trailed off, not sure what it was they
had to do exactly.

The cheek that was pressed against his moved, soft lips brushing the side of
his neck and sending a shiver down his spine. Cupid murmured something
incomprehensible against his skin and then went completely still, and Strife
knew it was pointless. He gave one last half-hearted nudge against the
solid weight on top of him before giving up, pressing his lips to the side
of Cupid's face and following the other boy into a deep, dreamless sleep.



Strife woke up an hour later feeling hot and suffocated and altogether too
sticky to sleep. He shoved at the weight cutting off his air supply,
rolling his eyes when Cupid snorted in his sleep and buried his face a
little further into Strife's neck. "Cupe, get off," Strife muttered,
shoving a little harder against the younger boy's chest.

Cupid muttered something against his neck and rolled away from Strife,
slipping the rest of the way out of him in the process. "Gross," Strife
moaned as he felt something cold and wet hit his thigh. He knew without
looking exactly what it was, he just couldn't believe he'd let Cupid fall
asleep without getting up and taking it off first. The last time he'd been
that careless was…never, actually, because he grew up in a neighborhood
where people dropped dead for all kinds of unnecessary reasons and he wasn't
interested in being another casualty.

People could say a lot of things about him because his father was in prison
and his mother wasn't the greatest role model ever. They could talk about
the way he dressed and who he fucked and even what kind of music he listened
to, but they couldn't accuse him of being stupid. At least not where sex
was concerned, because even when he took risks he always protected himself.
Only it was hard to imagine when he looked down at the mussed blond hair and
the long, dark eyelashes curling against a perfect golden cheek that there
could be anything dangerous about Cupid at all. It was harder still not to
want to wake him up and finish the sentence he hadn't let Cupid finish
earlier, because even if he didn't mean it he knew it would be worth it just
to see the look on Cupid's face.

Chances were if he woke Cupid up and said it now he wouldn't even remember
it in the morning. And didn't the fact that he wanted to say it mean that
he meant it, at least a little? Could you mean something like that just a
little, or was it one of those 'all or nothing' deals? The only person he
knew that he could ask stuff like that was his uncle, and he'd kill Strife
if he called at 2:00 am to ask a bunch of breathless questions about love.
Maybe if Strife hadn't kept putting off going over to his uncle's place to
see him he could get away with a middle-of-the-night phone call that didn't
involve either a death in the family or bail money, but the only time he'd
seen Joxer so far was when they met for lunch at some place near the school
his uncle taught at.

He shook his head and forced himself to leave the warmth of the bed for a
few minutes, scratching absently at the itchy mess on his stomach as he
wondered how Cupid could sleep so soundly. Once he'd pulled on a pair of
boxers he stumbled into the bathroom, running the water in the sink to warm
it up while he searched for something he could use to clean himself up.
Finally he found a hand towel that didn't look too gross and held it under
the water, making a mental note to call his uncle as soon as Cupid went
home. He had to talk to somebody about the strange thoughts he'd been
having lately, and he knew Joxer would understand why it had taken him so
long to get around to coming over. He was a musician, after all, he knew
what it was like to get caught up in his art.

Strife smirked at that thought and tossed the hand towel on the floor with
most of the rest of the towels they owned. Once he'd cleaned up and tossed
the condom he headed back to his bedroom, stopping long enough to kick his
boxers off again before he slid between the sheets to stretch out next to
Cupid. He definitely was not snuggling, because that wasn't the kind of
thing he did. Maybe Cupid did it, and Strife tolerated it because he didn't
want to hurt the kid's feelings. So he didn't really mind when Cupid
shifted again and slid an arm around his waist, pulling Strife closer in his
sleep. It barely took any time at all before he was dead to the world
again.

~

The second time he woke up was to the sound of the shower running, and he
looked over at the spot where Cupid used to be only to find that he was
alone. He didn't have to guess where Cupid was; it was probably just as
well that he'd decided to take a shower before Strife woke up, just so they
wouldn't be tempted to repeat the last morning Cupid had woken up in his
bed. What he really wanted to know was when exactly he'd gotten used to the
idea of waking up with somebody else, and why he was a little disappointed
in the fact that Cupid wasn't next to him.

Part of him wanted to tell Cupid what they'd done the night before; to get
up out of bed and wait for him to get out of the shower, look him right in
the eye and tell him they had to be more careful. They'd both been with too
many other people in too many places that weren't safe…Cupid's whole sex
life consisted of anonymous encounters in night clubs, and Strife's history
wasn't really much better. He knew he wouldn't be able to look at Cupid and
get the words out, though; for one thing he didn’t want to risk starting
another fight, or worse, making Cupid look as sad and scared as he had last
night when he thought Strife was mad at him. He didn’t really want to have
that conversation right before he met Cupid’s dad, either, but he knew it
was going to bother him all day if he didn’t say anything.

He let out a frustrated sigh when he heard the water shut off, closing his
eyes as he waited for Cupid to come back. When the bedroom door opened he
opened his eyes again, pushing himself up on his elbows to watch Cupid cross
the room and drop his towel on the floor. The sight of all that clean, damp
skin woke up parts of his body he wasn’t ready to deal with, then Cupid
climbed onto the mattress to straddle his hips and he couldn’t remember what
it was he’d been meaning to talk to the other boy about.

“Morning.” The greeting was delivered to the side of his neck, warm lips
moving against his skin and making it hard to focus. A moment later Cupid
pulled back to smile down at him, his hands braced on the mattress on either
side of Strife’s face. “I hope it’s okay that I used the shower. I felt
really gross when I woke up.”

“I can’t believe ya slept as long as ya did,” Strife said, his hands
trailing across the newly scrubbed skin stretched over Cupid’s stomach. “Ya
musta been tired, ya passed out about two seconds after ya came.”

“I did not. I waited until two seconds after you came.” Cupid grinned and
leaned forward again, but Strife turned his head before the other boy could
press their mouths together.

“Lemme at least brush my teeth, Cupe,” he said, but he didn’t feel much like
getting up. He didn’t feel like doing much of anything except taking
advantage of the very naked and willing teenager looming over him, but he
still felt kind of gross himself.

“I don’t care,” Cupid murmured against his neck, sending a shiver down
Strife’s spine as Cupid’s tongue darted out to trace the shell of his ear.

He was tempted to let Cupid have his way; he was pretty sure the other boy
meant it when he said he didn’t care, and it wasn’t like they had anywhere
to be until they had to go to Cupid’s father’s house. “What time does your
old man expect us ta show up?” he asked, his fingers threading through blond
hair and tugging until Cupid looked at him again.

“Whenever. I wouldn’t mind getting something more comfortable to wear,
though. Leather looks cool and all but those pants aren’t exactly what I’m
used to hanging out in.”

Strife grinned at Cupid’s sheepish expression, his hands leaving Cupid’s
hips to massage the hard muscles along his arms. “I kinda like ya in those
pants. Course, I like ya even better like this.”

Cupid’s eyes lit up as he leaned forward again, and it took every ounce of
self-control left in Strife to flatten his hands against the other boy’s
chest and stop him. “Shower, Cupe. Seriously.”

“I just took one.” When Strife didn’t return Cupid’s amused smile he rolled
his eyes and climbed off the other boy, leaving Strife wondering why he’d
stopped him. “Okay, okay, I’m starving anyway.” Right on cue his stomach
growled, and Strife chuckled as he climbed out of bed and found the pair of
boxers he’d dropped on the floor the night before.

”Well yer not gettin' anythin’ ta eat here. Most we’ve got is beer.” He
paused once he’d pulled his boxers on, turning back to the blond still
kneeling in the center of his bed. He shook his head and wrestled his brain
back into submission, giving up on getting his body to follow suit. So it
would be a cold shower, at least until he got some food into the other boy.
He could live with that, it wouldn’t be the first time picturing Cupid just
like that had driven him to extremes. He grinned at the thought and crossed
back to the bed, brushing his lips across Cupid’s cheek before he turned and
headed for the bathroom.

When he got out of the shower his bedroom was empty, so he pulled on the
cleanest, most parent-friendly clothes he could find before he ran his
fingers through his hair and made his way toward the living room. Cupid was
sprawled in one of the chairs at the only table in the apartment, his back
to Strife as he listened to whatever Iolaus was saying. He couldn’t hear
his roommate from the hallway, but as soon as he walked into the kitchen
Iolaus looked up and turned a shade of crimson Strife had never seen before.

His first reaction to the sight of the two of them together was an
irrational burst of jealousy; he knew it was stupid to worry about Iolaus,
but there was a small voice in the back of his head that kept insisting
there was more to his roommate than met the eye. Still, Strife knew him
well enough to know he wouldn’t…and not with Cupid. If anything Iolaus was
totally gone on Herc, even though he’d never admit it. Most of the time
Strife just felt sorry for him, but as he watched his friend blush he was
gripped by the sudden urge to pull him out of his chair and make Iolaus tell
him what was going on by whatever means necessary.

Before he had a chance to act on the urge Cupid turned to look at him, his
smile so genuinely happy that Strife instantly felt like an idiot for being
jealous in the first place. “Cupe…uh…ya ready to go?” he asked, casting
another quick glance at his roommate before he turned his attention back to
Cupid.

“Yeah, sure. If we go to my dad’s now he’ll feed us lunch too. Probably
wouldn’t be a bad idea to show up early anyway, if you catch him off guard
he’s usually a little easier to deal with.”

“Yer not doin’ a whole lot ta make me wanna go over there.”

Cupid grinned and stood up, closing the distance between them and wrapping
his arms around Strife’s waist. Either he forgot that Iolaus was watching
them or he just didn’t care, because he leaned forward and pressed a soft
kiss to Strife’s lips before he pulled away to grin again. “Relax, he tries
to pretend he’s this tough guy but he’s a total pushover.” He let go of the
older boy and looked back at Iolaus again, his smile turning sympathetic.
“See ya, Iolaus.”

“Yeah, see you guys later,” Iolaus called after them. Strife couldn’t
resist one last backwards glance at his roommate as he followed Cupid out
the front door, but Iolaus was already frowning down at his hands as though
he was trying to work out some puzzle.

“What was the deal back there?” he asked as soon as he closed the door,
hoping he didn’t sound as defensive as he felt.

“I figured if I waited in your room we wouldn’t get anywhere anytime soon,
and you seemed like you wanted to go,” Cupid answered. A frown marred his
handsome features, and Strife instantly regretted phrasing the question that
way.

“Nah, I don’t mean…” He let out a frustrated sigh and glanced back down the
hall, half expecting to find Iolaus watching them walk away. “I meant with
Iolaus. Whatever he was telling ya looked pretty intense.”

“Oh, that.” Cupid laughed nervously without quite meeting Strife’s gaze,
his hands moving at his sides as though he wasn’t quite sure what to do with
them. “It was nothing. He was just sitting there when I got out there, and
he looked kinda worried. Hercules didn’t come home last night, Iolaus said
something about him going home with some girl he knows.”

“Why the hell would he be worried ‘bout Herc an’ some chick?” Strife
frowned suspiciously at his boyfriend, suddenly positive Cupid wasn’t
telling him something. “He hardly ever comes home if he can help it.”

“I think it was more the specific girl Iolaus was worried about. Is he…I
mean it’s none of my business, but are you sure Iolaus is straight?”

“Why? What tha fuck did he say to ya?” He regretted the venom behind his
words as soon as he saw the fear flicker in Cupid’s eyes, and he took a deep
breath and did his best to control the newest bout of jealousy. He wasn’t
used to feeling so possessive fo the guys he slept with; he knew it should
worry him, but at the moment all he could think about was what he was going
to do to Iolaus if he’d done something insane like hit on Cupid.

“It wasn’t so much what he said,” Cupid answered. “I just got the feeling
that there was something he wasn’t saying about why he was so bent out of
shape over Hercules. They’re not…”

Strife shook his head when Cupid trailed off, stopping just short of rolling
his eyes at himself when he realized what the other boy meant. Of course
he’d picked up on Iolaus’ crush, anybody that listened to him talk about
Hercules for more than a minute could see it. The fact that Cupid knew the
signals better than Iolaus didn’t hurt either, but that didn’t help Strife
feel any better for jumping to all the wrong conclusions about his friend.

“Sorry, Cupe, I didn’t mean ta lose it. I guess Iolaus is kinda messed up
when it comes to knowin’ what he wants. I keep tellin’ him there’s nothin’
wrong with it, but he’s in major denial. Him and Herc have been best
friends forever, I think he’s worried ‘bout what Herc’ll say when he figures
it out. I mean the bigtime crush he’s got on Herc doesn’t help.”

He watched as Cupid relaxed again, his easy smile returning and making
Strife’s heart skip a beat. “I figured it was something like that. So he’s
never…with a guy, I mean.”

“Not that I know of. He doesn’t tell me much, but him an’ Herc’re always
together. If he had Herc’d find out, I bet. Nah, I’m guessing he’s
confused ‘cause he’s never tried it so he doesn’t know if he really is bi or
if it’s just from hangin’ around me.”

Cupid laughed as they made their way into the subway terminal, shaking his
head at the thought of Iolaus thinking Strife could really rub off on him.
“Do people seriously think it works that way?”

“You’d be amazed what people think, Cupe,” Strife answered. It was hard to
remember not to put his arm around Cupid while they waited for the train,
and he found himself wishing all over again that he’d let the other boy talk
him into staying in bed.

~

“Where’d ya say we are again?”

“The West Village.”

Strife looked around at the trendy cafés and shops lining both sides of the
street, feeling more than a little conspicuous in his worn black jeans and
denim jacket. Then there was his large, leather-clad boyfriend; not that
anyone could tell at first glance that Cupid was his boyfriend, but that
didn’t help him feel any more at home in the Village. He tried to avoid
Manhattan as much as possible for a reason; these people were in a high tax
bracket, while Strife didn’t even *have* a tax bracket.

“Kinda pricey, isn’t it? Your dad’s boyfriend must be rich.”

“I don’t think so.” Cupid frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then glanced
over at Strife again and smiled. “He’s a teacher, I think he makes more now
than he did when my dad first met him, but he’s not rich. He bought the
apartment when his building went co-op, whoever was on the lease was locked
into some disgustingly low rent so he got a deal. At least that’s what my
dad said when he moved in.”

“So where is this place?”

“500 block of Hudson. We’re almost there.” Cupid smiled again and shook
his head. “You’re not nervous or something, are you?”

“Nah,” Strife answered automatically. He wasn’t that nervous about meeting
Cupid’s father, at least not at the moment. Currently he was too
preoccupied with feeling like he had a neon sign over his head flashing
‘poor person’ to worry about Cupid’s dad. “Wait a second. *West* Hudson?”

West Village, West Hudson…they kinda go together.”

Strife ignored Cupid’s amused smirk, his mind racing as he tried to remember
why that sounded familiar to him. When he finally figured it out he frowned
and glanced around him again, wondering how this could possibly be the same
West Hudson. “I think my uncle lives over here someplace.”

“You don’t know?”

“He gave me his address, but I haven’t gotten around ta going ta see him
yet. He can’t live over here, though. He’s a musician, they don’t make
this kinda cash.”

Cupid shrugged and steered him around a set of tables outside one of the
cafés. “Maybe he’s got a roommate.”

“Yeah, he’s got a boyfriend that lives with him, but I didn’t think the guy
had this kinda cash.”

Cupid stopped walking abruptly, reaching out and nearly pulling Strife off
his feet in the process. “Your uncle…the musician…lives in the West
Village. With his boyfriend.”

“Yeah, what…” He trailed off as he realized what Cupid was getting at, a
surprised laugh escaping his throat as he stared back at the other boy. “No
way. That’d be way too weird. There’s gotta be hundreds a guys livin’
together over here.”

“On the 500 block of West Hudson? What’s his name?”

“Joxer.”

Cupid’s eyes got wide and Strife knew without asking that it wasn’t too much
of a coincidence after all. “No way, Cupe. Yer old man’s really livin’
with my uncle?”

Cupid nodded helplessly, his eyes still wide with stunned disbelief. “I
can’t believe Joxer never told me about you. I mean I knew he had a nephew,
but he never told me how great you were. Wait a second…this doesn’t mean
we’re like related, does it? I mean we’re not cousins now, are we?”

Strife didn’t bother to check the urge to grin at the offhand compliment,
shaking his head at the panic that flooded Cupid’s face suddenly. “I’m
pretty sure it doesn’t work like that.”

“Good, because that would be kind of gross.” Cupid shivered at the idea,
then his mind shifted gears and a brilliant grin lit up his features. “Oh,
man, Dad’s gonna freak.”

“No offense, Cupe, but yer dad’s startin’ ta sound a little scary.”

“Look at it this way,” Cupid said, slinging his arm around Strife’s
shoulders and guiding him around the corner onto Hudson Street. “Even if he
hates you he can’t say anything without getting in trouble with Joxer.”

“*So* not makin’ me feel better, Cupe.”

It was hard to resist the urge to shake Cupid’s arm off his shoulders, and
he found himself glancing around nervously every time someone passed them.
No one seemed the least bit phased at the sight of Cupid touching him,
though, and by the time they reached the apartment building he’d managed to
relax enough to enjoy the feeling of the other boy’s arm circling his
shoulders. He swallowed a sigh at the loss of contact when Cupid finally
let go long enough to ring the buzzer, clapping a hand over his mouth to
keep from laughing when he heard his uncle’s voice on the intercom.

Less than two minutes later Cupid was leading him into a bright,
comfortable-looking apartment, and he found himself face to face with a
tall, dark man who looked like he already intent on not liking Strife at
all. “Hey, Dad,” Cupid said as he shut the door behind them. “Where’s
Joxer?”

“I’m right here, Cupid,” Joxer’s voice rang out from the kitchen. A moment
later he appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a towel as he grinned
at the group gathered in the living room. “So where’s your…Strife?”

“Hey, Unc.”

“Unc?” Ares echoed, his eyes wide as he glanced over at Joxer for some kind
of explanation.

“Ares, this is my nephew, Strife,” Joxer said. As he spoke his smile faded,
and he frowned at Cupid before turning back to Strife again. “What are you
doing here?”

“You invited us,” Cupid reminded the two men staring at them as though
they’d just sprouted wings. “I know we’re kind of early but I didn’t think
you’d mind.”

“But you’re…wait a second. *You’re* Cupid’s new boyfriend?”

Strife didn’t have a prayer of stopping the grin that formed when he heard
his uncle call him Cupid’s boyfriend. Somehow hearing Joxer say it made it
feel that much more real, even though he didn’t realize until he heard Joxer
say it that he was still having trouble believing it was really true. He
nodded and glanced over at Cupid, his smile turning affectionate when their
eyes met.

“Yeah, small world, huh?” Cupid answered, reaching out to grab Strife’s hand
and tug him around the two men frozen in the center of the living room.
“We’re starving, got anything to eat?”



“That…was your nephew? With my son,” Ares said slowly, as though saying the
words out loud would somehow help them make sense.

“Apparently,” Joxer answered without looking at Ares. He was still staring
wide-eyed in the direction of the kitchen, his mind reeling as he tried to
make sense of what had just happened.

“How could this have happened?”

"I hope you're not actually expecting an answer to that." Joxer sighed when
Ares turned away from the kitchen to stare at him, shaking his head at the
other man. "How do I know how it happened? It's not like they called me.
Strife hasn't even made time to stop by since he got to town almost a month
ago."

"But you've called him. And you met him for lunch that time. He never
mentioned anything?" Ares knew he was reaching, and he could tell by the
look on the other man's face that Joxer was just as clueless as he was. He
couldn't stop the stream of questions, though, not when he was still reeling
from the fact that his son had an actual boyfriend. To find out that it was
someone that he…well, he sort of knew, and that Cupid's new boyfriend was
family, in a way...it was way too much for him to process all at once.

"He never mentioned seeing anybody. As far as I knew he was too busy to
have a love life, all he ever talks about is his band. Come on, Ares, you
don't really think I'd keep something like that from you, do you?"

"No," Ares answered quickly, the barely disguised hurt on Joxer's face
snapping him out of his shock long enough to pull the other man into his
arms. "No, of course not. It's just…surprising."

"You can say that again," Joxer murmured against his shoulder.

Ares chuckled softly and tightened his hold on the other man, running a hand
absently through Joxer's hair. "Talk about weird, though. I mean what are
the chances of my son and your nephew…" He trailed off and let go of Joxer,
his frown returning just as suddenly as it had disappeared. "Wait a second.
So it was your nephew that Cupid was talking about hating so much just a
week ago? He sat right there at our kitchen table and told us how miserable
he was, Joxer. How this kid had treated him like dirt just because Cupid
was a few years younger than him."

He was so focused on the couple in his kitchen that he missed Joxer
bristling at the words 'this kid'. He didn't see the anger that colored the
other man's cheeks, so the sudden, unfamiliar venom in Joxer's words made
him flinch. "Just because Cupid was upset last weekend doesn't mean Strife
did anything wrong, Ares. You don't know the whole story, and anyway Cupid
seems to have gotten over it."

"I didn't mean there's anything wrong with him. But you saw Cupid last
weekend. I mean really, how much do you even know about this kid? You
haven't really seen him in years, there's no telling what happened between
then and now." He knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as he saw
Joxer's expression, but he couldn't take it back. The truth was that he
wasn't sure if he wanted to; he knew Joxer loved Strife, but he really
hadn't talked to him much in the past few years and there was no telling
what Strife's intentions were where Cupid was concerned.

"That was low, Ares," Joxer said, his voice deceptively calm as he crossed
his arms over his chest. "You know perfectly well that I've kept in touch
with Strife. The real problem here is that you don't think anybody's good
enough for your son. Not even a member of *my* family."

"That's not true." Even as he said it Ares knew it was a lie, but he wasn't
about to admit that to Joxer or anybody else. The fact was that he'd been
completely prepared to hate Cupid's new boyfriend, and to find so many
things wrong about him that eventually even Cupid would see the kid just
wasn't good enough for him. And maybe Ares never really would think anybody
was good enough for his son, but he couldn't help it if he worried. Still,
he hadn't been expecting Cupid to waltz into his apartment with Joxer's
nephew trailing behind him. Joxer's nephew, the son of a convicted killer.
The kid that was raised by a woman Ares had heard enough stories about to
give him nightmares.

"I can't believe you," Joxer said when Ares didn't offer any kind of
defense. "I practically raised that kid after his dad got sent up."

"That's my whole point," Ares answered, his brain working overtime as he
tried to think of a way to climb out of the hole he'd managed to dig for
himself. "You two were so close, but he can't even stop by to check in now
that he lives in the same city. Doesn't that tell you something?"

"Yeah, it tells me that he's twenty years old and he's more interested in
hanging out with his friends than his boring old uncle. And it looks like
*your* son has a lot to do with why he doesn't have much free time these
days." Joxer sighed and took a step forward, reaching up to rest his hand on
Ares' shoulder. "I know this is hard for you, Ares. And maybe it would be
a little easier if it was just some kid neither of us knew so you could hate
him without feeling guilty about it. But sooner or later you're going to
have to face the fact that Cupid's a grown man, and he's going to have to
start making his own decisions."

Ares tried not to cringe at that thought; instead he nodded mutely and let
his shoulders sag a little, allowing Joxer to pull him into a tight embrace.
"I'm sorry…you know, for what I said," Ares mumbled into Joxer's hair.

"It's okay, I know you didn't mean it," Joxer answered. He pulled back and
grinned at Ares' miserable expression, then his smile faded and he playfully
smacked the other man's arm. "But you ever say anything bad about my nephew
again and you'll regret it."

~

“Cupe,” Strife said as soon as they made it to the relative safety of the
kitchen, “ya sure this is such a good idea?”

Cupid shrugged and let Strife pull his hand out of the other boy’s, crossing
to the fridge and opening the door to scan its contents. “Too late now.
Anyway they had to find out sooner or later. Once they get over the shock
they’ll probably think it’s funny.”

“Yer dad didn’t look like he felt much like laughin’,” Strife grumbled as he
watched Cupid pull containers out of the fridge.

As soon as he registered the hint of actual fear in Strife’s voice Cupid
straightened up, forgetting his quest for food long enough to smile
reassuringly at his boyfriend. “Strife, seriously, it’s not a big deal.
Dad’s gonna be fine with this.” When Strife didn’t smile back he sighed and
closed the distance between them, reaching up to rest one hand on the other
boy’s cheek. “You’re not really worried about this, are you?”

Strife shrugged unconvincingly and Cupid just barely managed to suppress a
triumphant grin. He knew he shouldn’t be enjoying the fact that Strife was
uncomfortable, but he hadn’t expected his boyfriend to actually want to meet
his father, let alone care whether or not Ares approved of Cupid’s choice
for a boyfriend. The fact that Strife did care…well, it meant *something*,
he was almost sure of it. And okay, so it was a little weird that Joxer was
Strife's uncle, but part of Cupid kind of liked the idea of them being
connected in more than one way. There was a tiny voice in the back of his
head that kept telling him it would be harder for Strife to break up with
him now that they were sort of part of the same family, but he ignored it as
best he could and focused on the fact that Strife still looked miserable.

"I promise he'll be fine," Cupid said, leaning forward to whisper the words
into the other boy's ear. Strife's hands landed on his chest, fingers
closing around the front of his tee shirt for a second before he stiffened
and tried to push Cupid away.

"Cupe, this is a bad idea," Strife said, turning his head long enough to
glance nervously in the direction of the living room. "They're gonna come
lookin' fer us eventually."

Cupid chuckled against Strife's neck, sending a shiver down the other boy's
spine when his lips brushed warm skin.

"What's so funny?" Strife asked, wincing at the defensive quality of his
voice.

"Trust me, I've had to watch them kiss in front of me enough times that they
can't really say anything. Besides, they're going to have to get used to it
sometime, right?"

"Yer so sure yer dad's not gonna come in here ta toss me outta his place any
second now," Strife said, although Cupid's laughter helped him relax just
enough to enjoy the feeling of blond hair brushing his cheek. "He knows
everythin' about me already, Cupe. He knows about my old man, probably
about my mom too if I know Unc. An' that's just the beginnin' of the family
stuff. I don't even know what my other uncle's like."

"Strife." Cupid straightened up, bracing his hands against the counter on
either side of the other boy as he met Strife's gaze. "He lives with Joxer.
If any of that bothered him he wouldn't have spent the past four years
with your uncle, right? He's known all that since the beginning, I bet, and
he doesn't love Joxer any less just because his brothers have problems. So
he can't hold it against you either."

Strife opened his mouth to tell Cupid that logic didn't always work when it
came to parents and new boyfriends, but the sound of raised voices from the
living room stopped him before he got the words out. "Shit. They're
fightin' about us already, I knew this was gonna happen."

"They are not," Cupid said, but he straightened up and let go of Strife.
When he heard his name his shoulders tensed, and he crossed to the entrance
to the kitchen. He reached the door just in time to hear his father say
'that's not true', but he didn't know what exactly he was denying. When he
heard the anger in Joxer's voice he started forward, but a hand on his arm
stopped him before he got out of the kitchen.

"I don't think that's such a great idea, Cupe," Strife said, his voice low
as he stole a glance at the scene in the living room. "Yer dad's not gonna
wanna listen ta whatever yer gonna say right now."

"He can't talk about you like that," Cupid whispered back, frowning when he
realized he wasn't sure what exactly his father had said. He heard
something about Strife not getting in touch with Joxer often enough, but he
didn't really understand what that had to do with anything.

"He's got a point." Strife looked away from Ares and Joxer long enough to
smile at the confusion marring Cupid's features. "Unc's called me a bunch a
times since I got to town, an' I keep puttin' him off. Mostly I'm busy with
the band, but this neighborhood…it kinda gives me the creeps, ta be honest."

"The Village gives you the creeps?"

Strife scowled at Cupid's amused grin, looking down at the other boy's chest
so he wouldn't have to meet his gaze. "It's all the rich people, they're
always lookin' at me like I'm thinkin' a rippin' somethin' off."

Cupid chuckled softly and leaned forward, planting a chaste kiss on the
corner of Strife's mouth. "They look at everybody that way. To tell you
the truth I like the neighborhood my dad used to live in a lot better, but
at least when he moved in here there was someplace for me to sleep."

Strife grinned and opened his mouth to answer, but before he got the words
out Cupid gestured toward the scene in the living room. "Look. I told you
they'd be okay with it."

He followed Cupid's gaze in time to watch Joxer grin and pull Ares forward.
It was weird to see his uncle and Cupid's dad…but he wasn't going there,
because if he started thinking about them together he'd probably never be
able to look either of them in the eye again.

"They're kinda cute together, aren't they?"

Strife nodded and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh when Joxer pulled
away and smacked Ares. It wasn't so much the fact that Ares was so much
bigger than Joxer as it was that his uncle was actually sticking up for him,
which was kind of cool in a really unexpected way. He wasn't really used to
people sticking up for him, and he couldn't help being a little surprised
that his uncle would take his side over his own boyfriend's. If there were
sides, he still wasn't sure how Cupid's dad was going to react to their
relationship.

At the sound of Strife's laugh Ares and Joxer both looked up, Joxer smiling
and Ares attempting not to scowl when they saw how close the two boys were
standing. Ares and Strife cleared their throats simultaneously, both of
them looking away. "I'll see what we've got for lunch," Ares announced a
little too loudly, giving Strife just enough time to jump out of the way
before he brushed past the boys into the kitchen.

"I'm gonna go change," Cupid said, stifling a laugh at the shell-shocked
expression on Strife's face. He resisted the urge to grab the other boy's
hand and pull him down the hall into the sunroom Joxer had converted into a
bedroom for him. He knew Strife would put up a fight considering where they
were, and he was pretty sure his father wouldn't appreciate it either.
Still, it was a tempting thought, if for no other reason than to convince
Strife however he could that everything was going to be fine.

He changed into an old pair of jeans and Neptune High Track tee shirt as
quickly as he could, sliding into an old pair of sneakers before he made his
way back to the kitchen. When he got there his father was making enough
food to feed them all for at least a week; he already had sandwiches stacked
three high on a plate and he was working on what looked like some kind of
pasta salad.

"Geez, Dad, there are only four of us," he said, grinning when the older man
turned to glower at him.

"Well one of us looks like he hasn't eaten in weeks. He's too skinny,
what's he been living on?" Ares asked, raising an eyebrow when Cupid's smile
faded.

"He's not too skinny," Cupid protested half-heartedly. He knew it was true;
Strife was all bones and angles, and Cupid had wondered more than once if he
got enough to eat. He wasn't about to admit that his father was right about
anything, though, especially not when Ares hadn't even said what he thought
of Strife yet. "You're gonna be nice, aren't you?"

"When am I not nice? I'd like to know where you got those pants you were
wearing when you came in, though." Ares smirked when Cupid winced,
abandoning his pasta salad to lean against the counter and cross his arms
over his chest. "Hoping I wouldn't notice? I can't imagine your mother
bought those for you."

"Psyche did. She used her mom's credit card to give me a makeover. Her
parents haven't noticed yet."

Ares shook his head at Cupid's grin. "You know just because your friends
act like delinquents doesn't mean you have to."

"Psyche's not a delinquent, Dad. It's not her fault her parents don't care
what she does. Besides, they've got so much money they'll never miss it."

"That doesn't make it right, Cupid." Ares turned back to his salad,
clearing his throat before he continued. "So things with this…Strife.
They're going better?"

"I told you, it was all a big misunderstanding," Cupid answered, reaching
around his father for a handful of the pretzels Ares had poured into a bowl
before he pulled himself up onto the counter. "Everything's great now.
Perfect. Well, except for Auto and Strife's friend Hercules, but they'll
get over it."

"Why does Autolycus have a problem with who you're dating?"

Cupid shrugged and swallowed the pretzel he'd been chewing before he
answered. "Beats me. Strife thinks he's got a thing for me, but that's
crazy. He's probably just pissed because now it's just him and Psyche
again."

"I thought Psyche was his girlfriend."

"It's complicated," Cupid answered cheerfully, grinning when his father
glanced over his shoulder long enough to raise an eyebrow at him. "Anyway
Strife's great. Where is he, anyway?"

"I think Joxer's talking to him about some family stuff in the bedroom. I'm
not really sure," Ares answered, his gaze shifting to the door that led to
the rest of the apartment. "Has he told you much about his family?"

"He told me about his dad, if that's what you mean." Cupid rolled his eyes
when Ares looked over at him. "What, you thought he'd lie about it? It
doesn't matter, Dad. I mean I've known about Joxer's brother forever, it
just turns out his brother and Strife's dad are the same guy."

"Which reminds me," Ares said as he picked up the bowl of pasta salad and
set it on the kitchen table, "how long have you known that he's Joxer's
nephew?"

"About half an hour. We didn't figure it out until we were on our way over
here." Cupid's grin returned as he took in his father's skeptical
expression. "I swear, we didn't know. I mean I knew he had an uncle in the
city but he never said Joxer's name."

Ares sighed and sank into the chair next to Cupid, reaching out to lay a
strong hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Have you told your mother about
any of this yet?"

"No," Cupid admitted, flushing slightly as he met his father's gaze.
"She'll be okay once she gets used to it. I mean at least Strife's got
being Joxer's nephew on his side. I think Mom likes Joxer better than she
likes you."

A mirthless chuckle escaped Ares' throat as he pulled his hand away from
Cupid's shoulder. "Your mother likes everyone better than she likes me."
The sound of the piano filtered in from the living room as he finished
speaking, and he rolled his eyes and stood up again. "Do me a favor and go
tell those two that lunch is ready. Otherwise we'll never pry Joxer away
from his precious piano."

Cupid grinned and stood up, shaking his head at his father's back as he
headed for the living room. Ares was right about one thing, Aphrodite even
liked Auto and Psyche a little more than she liked Ares most of the time.
He was pretty sure she'd like Strife even if he wasn't Joxer's nephew,
though, just as soon as he broke the news to her that he was seeing someone
he met in New York.



When Cupid reached the living room his jaw dropped momentarily, then his
features relaxed into a smile and he forgot all about lunch. He moved
through the room as quietly as possible, sinking onto the arm of the couch
closest to the piano as he listened to the music. He’d expected to find
Joxer sitting at the piano, but to see Strife…and he could *play*, maybe as
well as Joxer himself. Not that Cupid knew a lot about music, but he’d
heard Joxer play enough times over the years to know Strife was good.

It wasn’t the kind of music he’d ever expected to hear Strife play - some
complicated jazz piece that Cupid didn’t recognize but he really, *really*
liked - but it didn’t really surprise him that Strife could play that well.
It was obvious from the pride shining in Joxer’s eyes that he’d taught his
nephew how to play, and Cupid got the feeling he’d stumbled onto a test of
some sort. When Strife finished the piece Cupid cleared his throat,
startling the two dark-haired men into looking up.

“Sorry,” he said, meeting Joxer's smile with a sheepish grin. “Lunch is
ready.”

“Thanks, Cupid.” Joxer glanced down at Strife and patted his shoulder
affectionately. “That was beautiful, Strife. I’m glad to hear you’ve kept
with it.”

He smiled one more time at Cupid and headed toward the kitchen, leaving the
two younger men alone. Cupid was still grinning, but as Strife’s gaze
wandered over him he began to feel a little self-conscious. “What?” he
asked, glancing down to make sure he didn’t have any holes in inconvenient
places or anything.

“Jesus, Cupe,” Strife murmured, his eyes wide as he met the other boy’s gaze
again, “ya just…ya look so much younger like that.”

“Oh.” Cupid shifted on the couch, his smile returning as he watched
Strife’s eyes turn a darker shade of blue. “It’s the eyeliner. I washed my
face. Psyche says the eyeliner makes me look a lot older.”

“She’s right.” Strife pushed himself off the piano bench and closed the
distance between them, reaching out to run the pad of his thumb across
Cupid’s cheekbone. “I think I like ya like this, though.”

Cupid grinned and took hold of Strife's hips, nodding in the direction of
the piano as he pulled the other boy forward. “I didn’t know you played."

“Since I was eight.” Strife glanced over Cupid’s shoulder to make sure no
one was looking for them yet before he leaned forward and pressed his lips
to the other boy’s. Cupid tightened his grip instinctively, holding Strife
against him as though he was afraid the older boy might pull away before he
was ready. He knew it was a bad idea to do this in his dad’s living room,
but they hadn’t really gotten a chance to be alone all day and he was
surprised to realize how much he missed it.

Strife’s hand left his face to land on his chest, fingers closing around the
front of his tee shirt to tug him forward. He could feel the warmth of the
other boy’s skin through the thin fabric of their shirts, and he could
almost imagine that he could hear Strife’s heart beating in tandem with his.
He was well on his way to forgetting all about the fact that his father
was less than twenty feet away and bound to come looking for him when Strife
laughed, the sound muffled against his mouth. He pulled away reluctantly, a
small sigh escaping his lips as Strife straightened up and let go of his
shirt.

“What’s so funny?”

“Sorry,” Strife murmured, although the grin tugging at the corners of his
mouth made him look anything but apologetic. “Ya spend a lot a time here?”

“I guess. It’s harder during track season, but I come up whenever I can.
Why?”

Strife tried unsuccessfully to swallow another giggle, gesturing vaguely in
the direction of the fireplace. “Cupe, there’s a picture a me on the
mantle.”

“Oh God.” Cupid knew exactly what picture Strife was talking about, but if
the other boy hadn’t pointed it out he might never have made the association
between his Strife and the kid in that picture. He’d looked at it often
enough, but that picture…it looked nothing like the Strife he knew. He
stood up and walked over to the mantle, picking up the framed photo in
question. The image showed a much younger Strife sitting at a piano, his
face turned toward the piano so Cupid couldn't see his eyes. “This doesn’t
look anything like you. I mean I’ve seen it a thousand times and I knew it
was Joxer’s nephew, but…God, you look so young.”

Strife shrugged and stopped next to Cupid, peering over his shoulder at the
picture. “It’s the hair. Didn’t start growin’ it out ‘til I was fifteen,”
he said, reaching up to run a hand through the shock of dark hair. “No blue
back then, either.”

Cupid glanced up at him long enough to grin, then he shook his head and set
the picture back on the mantle again. “Doesn’t Joxer have any more recent
pictures of you?”

“Doubt it. It’s not like Ma’s real big on family portraits, ya know? Unc
musta taken that one at his place, back when he was still givin’ me piano
lessons. A coupla years later he moved out here an’ that was it.”

“What about school pictures? Or graduation?”

Strife’s features twisted into a bemused smile that let Cupid know he’d
somehow asked a really stupid question. “I didn’t go ta graduation, Cupe.
Come on, I’m starvin’ and yer dad’s gonna come out here any second and drag
ya back in the kitchen where he can keep an eye on ya.”

“He’s not that bad,” Cupid lied. He knew damn well that the only reason
Ares hadn’t come looking for him yet was because Joxer had found a way to
keep him in the kitchen, but not even Joxer could distract him forever. He
let Strife push him gently in the direction of the kitchen, but his mind
wasn’t on food anymore. All he could think about was the whole wall of
pictures his mom kept of him, and it was hard not to wonder what Strife’s
house looked like. He’d always been a little embarrassed by the way his
parents fussed over him, but he couldn’t imagine them not wanting pictures
of him. And he could forget skipping graduation, they’d never let him get
away with that.

When they reached the kitchen Ares and Joxer looked up in unison; Joxer
smiled as soon as he saw them, but it was obvious from the way they’d been
bent together over the table that they were talking about something serious.
Cupid frowned and glanced over at Strife, but the other boy appeared to be
oblivious. He was standing a little behind Cupid, eyeing Ares nervously.
Cupid bit back the urge to laugh and pushed him into the chair closest to
Joxer, settling between Strife and his father before he turned to Ares and
fixed him with a warning look.

The older man raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything, clearing his
throat instead before he turned his attention to Strife. “So Joxer tells me
that was you playing just now.”

Cupid held his breath while he waited for Strife to answer, part of him
expecting a ‘yes, sir’ or something that would sound just as insincere
coming from Strife. Instead Strife glanced over at his uncle before turning
back to Ares and nodding. “Unc taught me. Used ta make me practice every
day, guess it got ta be a habit.”

“You have a piano at your place?”

“Nah, not here,” Strife answered. “We had one back in Detroit but I
couldn’t exactly fit it in the van with all tha other equipment. Haven’t
played since I got here. Not ‘til today anyway.”

Cupid stifled a grin as he felt Strife’s leg shaking against his under the
table, stealing another glance at his father as he wondered why anybody
would be afraid of Ares. Sure, he was big and he had a way of looking even
more imposing than he really was, and over the years he’d perfected the art
of glowering. But underneath all that he was pretty much a pushover, at
least compared to Cupid’s mom. He had a feeling it would be a bad idea to
point that out to Strife before he got around to introducing him to
Aphrodite, though. What he really wanted to do was reach over and pull
Strife close, whisper something to him about relaxing and kiss him until he
forgot why he was nervous. He settled for pressing his leg more firmly
against the other boy’s, succeeding in stilling Strife’s leg enough to keep
him from drawing attention to his nervousness.

“Well you can always come over and play here,” Ares said, drawing surprised
glances from everyone at the table. He kept his attention squarely on
Strife, ignoring his son and Joxer as they both stared at him. “I know
Joxer would love to see more of you.”

Okay, so it was a little bit of a guilt trip, but Cupid was willing to
overlook it in favor of focusing on the fact that his father was actually
trying. He didn’t even care if it was for his sake or because of Joxer, all
he really cared about was the fact that Strife looked genuinely pleased.
Shocked, and maybe just a little terrified, but he definitely looked happy.
He was starting to wonder if *anyone* had ever been nice to Strife besides
Joxer; judging from his friends Cupid wasn’t very optimistic, but Strife was
a nice guy underneath the image so he must have learned it from somewhere.

“That’s a great idea,” Joxer chimed in. “You’ve got natural talent, Strife,
it’d be a shame to let that go to waste.”

“Thanks,” Strife said, stealing a quick glance at Cupid before he turned
back to his uncle. “I been pretty busy with the band an’ all, but it’d be
kinda cool to play every once in awhile.”

“How’s the band doing?” Joxer asked. Cupid could tell he was trying to be
encouraging, but he was wearing that same expression he’d had the day Cupid
tried to enlist his help in talking Ares into letting him get his tongue
pierced. In the end he’d convinced Cupid that the best idea was to wait
until he was eighteen, then if he still wanted a tongue ring he wouldn’t
need anyone’s permission. He had a feeling Joxer felt about Strife’s band
pretty much the same way he’d felt about body piercing, but he was doing a
good job of not showing it.

“They’re amazing,” Cupid answered before Strife got a chance. He flashed a
broad grin at Strife before he turned back to the two older men, hoping his
boyfriend would still be speaking to him after he finished his sentence.
“In fact you guys should come see them play tonight."

~

“Hey, Auto?”

Auto let out a weary sigh and lifted his head long enough to glance in the
direction of Psyche’s voice. “What?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

“What?”

Another sigh escaped his throat, this one more frustrated than tired.
They’d been sitting in silence for almost an hour, and he’d forgotten why
he’d gone over to Psyche’s house in the first place. It was habit more than
anything, and normally he didn’t mind just hanging around her house doing
nothing. It sure as hell beat hanging out in his tiny bedroom listening to
his father drinking or snoring in the living room, and Psyche’s parents were
hardly ever around. Even when they were home they pretty much ignored the
fact that they had a kid at all, so Psyche and Auto usually had the place to
themselves.

Until this year, when Cupid started hanging out with them more often than
not. Of course Auto had never been able to convince Cupid to sleep with
them, but somehow when he was around it was still more interesting to just
do nothing. Maybe it was all the time Auto spent staring at Cupid that made
a difference, or maybe it was the fact that he and Psyche had just known
each other too long to be interesting anymore.

“Are you gonna ask me or not?” he finally said, pushing himself into a
sitting position on the leather couch.

Psyche was already sitting up, her arms tucked under her chin as she leaned
on the arm of an overstuffed chair. He wasn’t sure how long she’d been
watching him, but judging from her expression he had a feeling he wasn’t
going to like the question.

“What’s the deal with you and Cupid?”

He'd been expecting her to ask him that question since the night before at
the club, but when she didn't ask him on the train home he'd hoped maybe she
was going to let it go. There was no way she'd missed the way he reacted to
seeing Cupid and what's-his-name, but he had no idea how to explain it to
her when he didn't even know why it bothered him so much. "What do you
mean? There's no 'deal' with me and Cupid."

"Auto, come on. I saw you last night. Ever since he met this guy you've
been acting weird. Why does it bother you so much that he has a boyfriend?"

He could tell by the look on her face that she thought she already knew the
answer, and part of him was tempted to ask her to tell him her theory.
Sometimes it seemed like she knew what he was thinking anyway, so maybe she
did know what was going on. The only problem was that he wasn't sure he
wanted to hear her say it out loud. "I don't know," he answered, figuring
the truth was probably a better approach than acting like he didn't know
what she was talking about. "I mean he's always around, you know? And now
he's always with that guy, what's-his-face. It's just weird."

"Strife."

"Huh?"

"That's his name," she said, rolling her eyes when he glanced over at her
again. "It is kinda weird when he's not here, but it was bound to happen.
He's totally the romantic type, he was going to fall in love eventually."

"I still say there's no way he can be in love with that guy." He hoped it
hadn't sounded as much like pouting to her as it had to him, but he was sick
of thinking about Cupid's love life and he didn't have the energy to hide
his feelings from her. "How do you fall for somebody you've known for like
two minutes?"

Psyche laughed softly, but when he looked up at her he caught a glimpse of
the sympathy she was trying not to show. "It's been almost a month since
they met. Anyway, I don't think time has anything to do with it. Look at
Sid and Nancy."

"Dead."

Okay, Romeo and Juliet."

"Dead and fictional."

She stuck out her tongue at him, and he tried and failed to stifle a smile.
He shook his head and fell back against the couch again, letting out a
dramatic sigh. "Alright, so he's in love with this guy. Think there's any
chance he'll come to his senses any time soon?"

"Considering the way they were looking at each other last night I'd say
there's no chance in hell."

He knew she was right, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Or that he
had to think about it any more than absolutely necessary. And anyway there
was always the chance that Cupid would change his mind, or that Strife would
get sick of hanging out with a high school kid and dump him. Of course that
would have to happen in the next month, because after that Cupid wouldn't be
a high school kid anymore. "I just don't get it. I mean what does he even
see in that guy? He's not that hot."

For a long moment she just stared at him like she was trying to figure
something out, and he'd begun to wonder if she'd even heard him when she
finally shifted in her seat and leaned a little closer to him. "Remember
back when we first noticed Cupid?"

"Yeah," he answered, frowning as he wondered what exactly she was getting
at. "What about it?"

"Do you think if you and I hadn't been together you would have asked him
out? I mean just the two of you."

"What, like on a date?" He let out a nervous laugh and focused on her knees
so he wouldn't have to look her in the eye. "I don't go out with guys."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean, why not? Psyche, come on, this is stupid. You're
supposed to be my girlfriend, why are you asking me about guys?"

"I just don't get what the big deal is," she said, shrugging and leaning
back in her chair again. "I mean you sleep with them. I know, I'm always
there when it happens. So why wouldn't you go out with a guy?"

"Because dating is lame, for one thing. I mean with you it's different - we
don't date, we hang out. But to just ask out somebody you don't even know?
Anyway it's not like that. Sex is one thing, but dinner and a movie?" He
could feel his skin flushing as he stammered through a rambling explanation
that he was almost sure didn't make any sense, but there was no way he could
come up with an answer to that question that she'd be satisfied with. The
truth was he'd never thought about it before, he'd never had to because
Psyche was always just there. So he had a girlfriend, and that meant he
didn't have to date or have awkward conversations with people he didn't
know. Most of the time she even did the seducing, pretty much all he had to
do was show up. The thought of dating a guy - dating *Cupid* - it was
crazy. They were friends, that was it. Just because he wanted him didn't
mean he was in love with him or something lame like that.

"So what you're saying is if we weren't together when you first noticed
Cupid you wouldn't have asked him out."

"No. I mean yeah…I mean no, I wouldn't have," he stammered, blushing even
harder when she smirked at him.

"Well the second time Strife saw Cupid he left the stage in the middle of a
show just to make sure he didn't get away. So I guess that's what Cupid
sees in him."

And damn if she wasn't right, but she didn't have to look so smug about it.
He knew he was scowling at her but he couldn't help himself; the last thing
he needed was his own girlfriend sticking up for Cupid's boyfriend.
"Whatever. Can we please stop talking about Cupid's love life and decide
what we're doing tonight? I'm bored out of my freaking mind here."

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when she smiled and
let him change the subject. He knew Psyche was probably the only person he
could talk to about stuff like this, but even if he wanted to talk about it
he couldn't put his finger on why Cupid's love life bothered him so much.
He'd never been this jealous before; it didn't bother him when Psyche wanted
to hook up with some other guy, he was always there when she did. So their
relationship was a little unconventional, but they still had a relationship.
Which meant he should be jealous over Psyche, not Cupid. He couldn't
change the way he felt, though, and he'd spent the past three weeks trying.

"Let's go back into the city," she said, her eyes shining with an excitement
he hadn't seen on her in a long time.

"Yeah, okay," he answered, grinning back at her in spite of himself. It was
a big city, so the chances of them running into Cupid and his new boyfriend
were practically nonexistent. And it was Cupid's loss if he wanted to hang
out by himself and act like a groupie; they'd had fun at the clubs before he
came along, and if he wasn't around it just meant they had one less thing to
worry about.



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

Psyche’s eyes were already glued to the stage as she wove her way through
the crowd, doing her best to ignore Auto’s constant stream of complaints
about the fact that she’d dragged him back to the club where she knew Cupid
and his boyfriend would be. She hadn’t been able to convince him that it
was a big enough crowd to avoid Cupid easily, but the fact that he hadn’t
flat out refused to go inside let her know that part of him wanted to be
there. Or at least that morbid curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Not that she really cared why Auto had finally given in, as long as it meant
she didn’t have to go to some other club where it would just be the two of
them and a whole bunch of strangers. She was tired of always giving in to
Auto, and anyway the reason she wanted to go see War Bastards play again
didn’t have anything to do with Cupid. For all she cared they really could
just pretend Cupid wasn’t there, because she was pretty sure Cupid wouldn’t
be all that happy to see them after the way Auto had acted the night before.
Sure, they could have chosen another club with another band that they both
liked a little better, but other bands didn’t have gorgeous bass players
with dark hair and blue eyes and a strong, quiet presence that made Psyche’s
knees feel weird.

And if she had a little crush it wasn’t hurting anybody; Auto wouldn’t care,
at least not until he figured out that she wasn’t planning on including him
in whatever happened between her and Xena. If anything happened, because
for the first time in a long time Psyche wasn’t sure that her looks would be
enough to get her what she wanted. She knew she was pretty, she’d been told
that enough times by men and women alike to believe that it was true. And
she’d never had a problem with her self-image, because even though her
parents didn’t seem to care what she did she knew there were plenty of other
people that wanted her around.

She’d always thought of herself as being pretty good at reading people, but
when it came to Xena she had no idea what the other girl was thinking.
Maybe it made Psyche just a little more interested than she normally would
have been, but the fact was that she wanted to know more. She was so caught
up in trying to catch a glimpse of Xena through the crowd that she didn’t
notice Auto stopping until he grabbed her arm and yanked her backwards. She
collided hard with his chest, frowning as she yanked her arm out of his grip
and scowled up at him. “What’s the big idea?” she demanded, but he wasn’t
even looking at her.

He pointed toward a table near the stage, his mouth open and his eyes wide.
She followed his gaze, a soft ‘oh’ escaping her lips as she saw what had
made him stop so abruptly. “Is that…?”

“Yeah. And isn’t that…?”

“Uh huh.” For a long moment she was frozen in place, staring at the
unlikely spectacle of Cupid sitting at a table next to his father. On Ares’
other side was a smaller, dark-haired man, and although she’d only met him
once she remembered Joxer. Even if she’d never laid eyes on him before
she’d know who he was by the way he was leaning into Ares.

“What the hell are they doing here?”

“Meeting the boyfriend, I guess,” she answered, swallowing her surprise and
reaching up to grab Auto’s arm. “Come on, let’s go say hi.”

“No way, they hate me.”

“Yeah, but they love me, so that makes up for it.” She smirked when he
rolled his eyes at her, but he let her pull him forward through the crowd.
When they reached the table Cupid and Ares looked up, Cupid’s face lighting
up in a grin that let Psyche know exactly how pleased he was with himself.
“Hey, Cupe. We were worried you might be lonely, but I guess not.”

If it was possible Cupid’s grin brightened a little more, leaving him
looking a lot less like the dangerous punk he was supposed to be and a lot
more like a kid in a candy store. “You guys remember my dad and Joxer,
right?”

“Sure we do. Hi, Mr. Kouros.” She smiled at Ares and then at Joxer,
elbowing Auto until he grunted something that would have to pass for a
greeting.

The two older men nodded at both of them, but she could tell Cupid’s father
wasn’t all that thrilled to be recognized, even if it was just by a couple
of his son’s friends. In fact he looked downright uncomfortable, and Psyche
suppressed a giggle as she slid into the chair next to Cupid and leaned
toward him. “If you wanted your dad to meet Strife couldn’t you just bring
him to the apartment or something?”

“I did,” Cupid answered, his eyes lighting up as he turned to make himself
heard over the music. “Joxer’s Strife’s uncle. I thought maybe he’d want
to see the show.”

“No way, you’re sleeping with your dad’s boyfriend’s nephew? You mean you
knew who he was all along and you didn’t say anything?”

“I had no idea until today,” Cupid answered. “And keep your voice down. My
dad doesn’t like to be reminded of the whole ‘sleeping together’ thing.”

She tried and failed to choke back a laugh, shaking her head when Cupid
grinned and turned back to the stage again. Admittedly it was a weird
coincidence, but knowing how overprotective Cupid’s parents were it would
probably help his cause that Strife was related to something that was more
or less family. She followed his gaze to the stage, taking in Strife’s
expression for the first time since they got to the club. She’d seen him
perform enough times now to know that there was something different about
him tonight, and she could only assume it was because he was nervous. It
was kind of cute that somebody who came off as confident as Strife would be
nervous that his uncle was in the audience. Unless he was nervous about
Cupid’s dad, which was more likely and somehow even cuter.

Somehow she managed not to actually squeal, but she put her arm around Cupid
and squeezed his neck for a second before she let go again. When he turned
to raise his eyebrows at her she just grinned. “I’m just happy for you,
Cupe. You deserve for things to work out, you know.”

He smiled and leaned forward to plant a quick kiss on her cheek, clearing
his throat when he pulled away to cover his embarrassment. “So what about
you guys?” he asked, glancing around her at Auto for a second before he
turned back to her and lowered his voice. “Was everything okay when you
left here last night?”

“What, with him? He’s fine,” Psyche assured him, stealing a quick glance at
Auto to make sure he wasn’t listening before she continued. “I think it’s
just growing pains or something. You know, graduation’s coming up and he’s
freaking out a little about having to actually grow up or something. Don’t
worry about it.”

“Are you sure? Because he seemed pretty mad about something last night.”

“I’m positive, Cupid. Seriously, don’t worry about it. He’ll get over it.”
She managed a smile that she hoped was convincing; she didn’t really enjoy
lying to her friends, but the last thing Cupid needed was to worry about
hurting Auto’s feelings when he was still trying to figure out his first
real relationship. She held his gaze until she was reasonably sure he
wasn’t going to argue with her, then she turned her attention back to the
stage.

The rest of the band seemed to be picking up on Strife’s nervousness, but
aside from looking a little bit like they wished they were anywhere but
onstage they were handling it okay. Xena seemed the most collected out of
the four of them, and she crossed the stage to whisper something Strife
while Psyche watched. He nodded and cast a quick glance over at their
table, Xena following his gaze automatically. Psyche found herself holding
her breath as her eyes locked with Xena’s for a moment. The other girl
looked away almost instantly, but when she swung back in their direction
again she was smiling.

Psyche didn’t realize she was wearing a matching grin until an elbow nudged
her, and she blinked and tore her gaze away from Xena to focus on Cupid.
“What?”

“You know, Strife thinks Xena might be interested. If you still are.
Only…” He trailed off and glanced over her shoulder again, but Auto was
still staring straight ahead as though he’d forgotten they were even there.
“Only just you,” he finished when he was sure Auto wasn’t listening.

“Yeah?” Psyche did her best not to betray her reaction to that revelation;
knowing Cupid he’d think he was doing her a favor by telling Strife to ask
Xena if she’d go out with her, and Psyche liked to think of herself as above
those kind of games. Still, she’d been thinking about cutting Auto loose
for awhile now, and she’d almost done it that morning until she saw how
confused he was about Cupid and took pity on him. She wasn’t sure if she
was doing him any favors by letting him hide behind their relationship, but
she didn’t want to just dump him either. They’d been friends for too long
for her to just throw that away, even if she was ready to move on.

“Would Auto go for that?”

Psyche shrugged and did her best to look like she was actually contemplating
what Auto thought. The truth was that he probably wouldn’t notice what she
did unless she somehow managed to seduce Cupid away from Strife, and that
wasn’t going to happen. The chances of him even noticing if she hooked up
with someone on her own for once…well, they were slim at best, especially
considering how distracted he was about Cupid’s love life. It didn’t leave
him a lot of room to worry about her, that was for sure. “I don’t know,
Cupe. I’ll have to think about it,” she said, smiling as casually as
possible and hoping he’d take the hint and drop the subject. Maybe once she
was ready to do something about it she’d want to talk to Cupid, but until
then she didn’t want to say anything to anyone that could ruin her chances.

~

There was no way Strife was going out into the crowd between sets, he didn’t
care if his own father was sitting out there at that table with Cupid. He
just wanted to live in denial, just for a little while longer. The
afternoon had gone so well, he got to hang out with his uncle and play the
piano again and Cupid’s father didn’t seem to hate him nearly as much as he
expected. Now that he’d seen Strife perform, though…well it wasn’t exactly
the kind of music Ares and Joxer would usually listen to, and he knew his
uncle wished he’d quit screwing around with his band and do something ‘real’
with his musical talent.

Chances were Avers had heard that speech more than once over the years, and
that meant he probably wasn’t all that impressed with War Bastards. Strife
had opted to actually wear a shirt for the show tonight; it was a lot less
comfortable, but it was more conservative and under the circumstances he
needed all the points he could score. So instead of jumping off the front
of the stage to find Cupid and drag him back to the dressing room he
followed the rest of the band off the stage, intent on spending their first
break of the night brooding by himself.

“Strife.”

He jumped at the sound of his name, scowling at the sound of his cousin’s
laughter. “Geez, Xena, give a guy a heart attack. What?”

“What’s the story with Cupid’s friend?”

“I told ya, I think he’s got a thing fer Cupe. It’s creepy, but it’s not
like I can do anythin’ about it.”

“No, not him,” Xena said, letting out an exasperated sigh. “The other
one…Psyche, right?”

As soon as he realized who she was talking about Strife smirked, curling his
hands into fists to keep himself from throwing his arms around her and
congratulating her on finally getting over Gabrielle. “Beats me. Ya wanna
meet her?”

“I already have, Strife. Last night ring any bells?”

“Yeah, but ya didn’t really get a chance ta talk. If ya like her…”

Xena rolled her eyes and cast a quick glance at Hercules and Iolaus to make
sure they weren’t listening. “I didn’t say that,” she answered, lowering
her voice so the others wouldn’t overhear her. “She has a boyfriend,
right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Strife admitted. He didn’t really like to think about it,
but if Iolaus was right things between Auto and Psyche might not be as solid
as they appeared. “It’s kinda weird. I mean they hook up with other
people.”

“Like an open relationship?”

“More like a kink. Both of ‘em hook up. At the same time.”

“Oh.” Xena blinked, then looked down and bit her lip. When she looked back
up at him again her eyes were a little darker than usual, and he could tell
she was trying not to let him see her reaction to that news. “So that’s why
she wanted to meet me?”

Strife shrugged and did his best to look innocent, suddenly wishing he’d
actually asked Cupid why Psyche wanted to meet his cousin before he dragged
her backstage. “I swear I didn’t know, Xena. Not ‘til later. Cupe said
she changed her mind anyway.”

“She did? Why?”

“She told Cupe she didn’t wanna mess up things between him an’ me.” He
frowned suspiciously at her for a second, taking in the barely disguised
hurt in her eyes. “Ya wouldn’ta gone fer that, wouldya? I mean Psyche,
yeah, but Auto?”

“No, of course not,” Xena snapped, steeling another glance behind her before
she grabbed Strife’s arm and dragged him further away from Hercules and
Iolaus. “It’s just that I heard them arguing. After you guys went back
onstage I went to the bathroom, and when I came out Psyche and Auto were
still back here fighting about Cupid.”

“I told ya, Auto’s got some weird thing fer Cupe. Try gettin’ him ta
believe it, though.”

“Well I was just thinking, if Auto’s got a thing for Cupid that means his
thing with Psyche can’t be that solid, right?”

Strife rolled his eyes this time, and anyone that had been watching would
have been struck by how much they looked alike when they did that. “They’re
fuckin’ other people, Xena. Couldn’ta been all that solid ta begin with.
Ya sure ya don’t want me ta say somethin’ ta Cupid?”

Her smirk returned as soon as he asked the question. “You’ve been hanging
around with high school kids way too much lately, Strife. I don’t need you
to talk to anybody for me.”

“So yer interested then.”

“I didn’t say that.” She grinned when he let out a frustrated sigh, but her
expression softened almost instantly. “Look, I appreciate the thought and
all, but I can handle my own personal life, okay?”

Strife nodded and let her turn away from him, but he wasn’t nearly as
confident about that as she was trying to sound. The fact was that her last
relationship had ended badly, and since then she’d been so fixated on Gabbie
that she barely even noticed other girls. Psyche was the first girl she’d
showed even a passing interest in since he’d been in town, and he had a
feeling she wasn’t going to do anything about it. She’d probably use
Psyche’s weird thing with Auto as an excuse not to pursue it, and he hated
to see his favorite cousin sell herself short like that.

It wouldn’t really hurt just to mention it to Cupid and see what he thought.
High school kids did talk about these things, after all, and if anybody
would know what Psyche thought of Xena it would be Cupid. If Psyche really
was interested Xena would thank him later, and if she wasn’t then Xena never
had to know. It was just a harmless question, after all, and it gave him
something to focus on other than the fact that Cupid’s father was still
sitting out in the audience, just waiting for Strife to screw up.



Title: Stupid Cupid 19: Odd Men Out
Author/pseudonym: Caroline Crane
Fandom: X:WP
Pairing: Cupid/Strife, Joxer/Ares, Xena/Psyche, Herc/Gabbie, Auto/Psyche,
etc. etc.
Rating: NC17
Status: new
Archive: yes to list archives
E-mail address for feedback: caroline_crane@hotmail.com
Series/Sequel: Sadly, yes. Shouldn't there really be a "Universe" option for
this question? It seems more appropriate somehow. Anyway you can find the
whole mess at my web site.
Other websites: http://desiderium.slashcity.net/

Notes: Boy howdy, did I ever not proofread that last chapter. I think I
must've been on drugs when I wrote it, too, because some of the typos don't
even make sense to me. And considering I'm the one writing this ridiculous
story that's saying a lot. So I apologize profusely for the lack of
editing, and I promise to stop being so lazy about it in future chapters.
Just because it's angst-free (mostly) doesn't mean I should be lazy about my
own work. Mea culpa. I'll try harder from here on out.

Revised warnings: Okay, so 19 chapters into this thing I've realized that
there are things in here I should have posted warnings about. I didn't know
at the time that any of these things would work their way into the story,
they all just sort of happened. So far there's been underage sex, underage
drinking, and femmeslash. Some people like to be warned about that, I don't
understand why but there it is. I'm not sure how in depth the Xena/Psyche
relationship will get, but I want to cover my bases in case. I think that's
it for now. If anything else comes up in future I'll happily cop to it.
This 'making it up as I go along' business is kind of fun.

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

It was obvious from the way they were whispering that Cupid and Psyche
thought Auto either couldn't hear them or wasn’t paying attention to their
conversation. He was more than happy to let them think he was completely
oblivious, especially since he was learning all sorts of things about what
his friends really thought of him. Not that they'd said much, but he wasn't
as dumb as they thought he was and he knew how to read between the lines.

Psyche being interested in a girl didn't bother him as much as it probably
should have, the part that bothered him the most was that it was the girl in
Strife's band. He'd been wishing since that first night when Cupid couldn't
keep his eyes off Strife that he'd never heard of the band War Bastards; it
seemed like ever since they showed up in New York that they'd been on a
mission to ruin Auto's life, and he didn't know what to do to stop it.

It always bothered him when Cupid hooked up with some stranger, but this was
so much worse because it was the real thing. That much was obvious, and he
knew Psyche was right when she said Cupid was in love. It was written all
over his face any time anybody even mentioned Strife's name, and it hurt to
know that he wasn't the one Cupid chose to fall for. Granted he hadn't
exactly been trying to romance the guy, but Cupid knew he was interested and
he'd still turned Auto down every time. So yeah, it bothered him that his
best friend was acting all starry-eyed over some guy they barely even knew,
and now it looked like Psyche was going to abandon him too.

And it wasn't just about fucking Cupid. He really liked the guy, even
though he'd tried every way he could think of to get over it. He didn't get
all wrapped up in feelings and crap like that, he didn't have time for it
and anyway he wasn't interested in a long-term thing with anyone. But he
liked having Cupid and Psyche around, he liked hanging out with them and he
liked the fact that whenever they went out, no matter who they hooked up
with, they always went home together. Lately he was starting to feel like
the odd man out, and he didn't like it one bit.

Letting Psyche drag him back to the same club where they knew Cupid would be
was bad enough, but to find him hanging out with his dad…Cupid's dad hated
him, he always had. The fact that he'd go to a night club to see Cupid's
new boyfriend was just another slap in the face, another way to tell Auto
that he was never going to be the one Cupid looked at like he couldn't live
without him. Not that he necessarily wanted that, no matter what Psyche
thought. Still, maybe it would be nice, just for a little while, for
somebody to think of him the way Cupid obviously thought of Strife.

Maybe there was a time when Psyche thought of him that way, but lately
things between them were…well, weird. He wasn't dumb enough to miss the
signals, and hearing that she had a thing for Xena just drove the point
home. Psyche was going to break up with him, and then what was he supposed
to do? Maybe this thing with Xena was just a fling; maybe if he told her he
didn't mind she'd just get it out of her system and they could go back to
the way things always were between them. They were still the same people,
after all; just because they were graduating from high school soon didn't
mean everything had to change. Not if they didn't want it to, but he was
starting to get the feeling that that was the whole problem.

Everybody seemed to think there was nothing wrong with everything in their
lives changing, and he didn't get how his best friends could just move on
without even thinking about how he felt about it. And the worst part was
that there really wasn't anything he could do about it, not without making
them both hate him. It was bad enough that he and Cupid hadn't stopped
fighting since he met Strife, but now Psyche was getting sick of him moping
around and she was going to ditch him for some girl. Some girl she didn't
even know, who was friends with Strife and would probably hate Auto on
principle.

He knew making a scene with Strife's friends hadn't won him any points with
them, but he hadn't really been thinking about whether or not they liked him
at the time. It wouldn’t even matter if they all hated him, except he had a
feeling they'd all be around a lot more, especially if Psyche and Xena
really did hook up. Which meant either he got along with Strife and his two
sidekicks Dumb and Dumber, or he spent a lot of time by himself over the
summer.

As soon as he thought it the second set ended, and he rolled his eyes and
sank a little lower in his chair as the taller of Strife's two sidekicks
hopped off the stage and headed into the crowd. Auto watched him move, one
eyebrow raised as he took in the muscle tone and the way the guy's hair
brushed his shoulders. He wasn't bad looking when he wasn't running his
mouth; not the type Auto usually picked out, but he was definitely somebody
Psyche would take a second look at. Maybe if he distracted her from Xena
long enough she'd forget why she'd been thinking about moving on in the
first place. He wasn't sure what's-his-name would go for it, but it was
worth a shot.

"Hey," he said, leaning toward Psyche and nudging her with his elbow, "what
do you think of him?"

"Who?" Psyche asked, frowning as she followed Auto's gaze. "The muscle
bound jerk that treated us like shit last night? You're kidding, right?"

"Well I don't wanna marry the guy. It's lot like there's a lot of
conversation involved."

Psyche opened her mouth to argue with him, but before she got the words out
Hercules stopped in front of a blonde and grabbed her around the waist.
They both watched as he dragged her forward almost forcefully, not that she
looked like she minded. Her arms were already around his neck by the time
their lips met, and by the looks of things neither of them planned to come
up for air any time soon. "Something tells me he wouldn't be interested,"
Psyche finally answered.

"Maybe, maybe not," Auto said, shrugging as he watched Hercules and the
mystery girl. "Hey, Cupe," he said, leaning over Psyche to get the other
boy's attention, "what's the story with those two?"

"Who?"

"The guitarist and that blonde," Auto answered, pointing in Hercules'
direction.

Cupid finally found the couple in question, his jaw dropping a little as he
watched Hercules and Gabrielle push the limits of public decency. "Holy
shit," he muttered under his breath, forgetting for the moment that his
father was within earshot. "*That's* who Iolaus was talking about? Xena's
gonna freak. Strife's gonna freak."

Auto started to ask why either of them cared who their friend made out with,
but he could tell that Cupid wasn't even listening to him anymore. He was
already looking at the stage again, seeking out Strife to see if his
boyfriend had caught the floorshow yet. Something told Auto that this had
the potential to at least be entertaining, which made up a little for the
fact that even if the guy was interested Psyche probably wouldn't go for it.

When he caught sight of Strife he was talking to the drummer, but the blond
had obviously seen his friend and the girl because he was staring over
Strife's shoulder, looking for all the world like he'd just swallowed a bug.
Finally Strife noticed that the blond guy wasn't even listening to him,
and he turned in the direction of the crowd just in time to see the
guitarist pull away from the girl and set her back on the floor again. Auto
didn't bother trying not to laugh at Strife's expression; they'd all gone
back to ignoring him anyway, and even Cupid's dad looked concerned as Cupid
whispered what Auto assumed was an explanation about whatever was going on.

A few seconds later Strife was off the stage and heading for his friend, the
blond right on his heels. Cupid stood up immediately, shaking off his
father's hand when the older man tried to stop him. For a second Auto
wondered if there was actually going to be a fight, and before he knew it he
was standing up and trailing after Cupid. He stopped a few feet away from
the small group, vaguely registering the fact that Psyche had stopped next
to him. The guitarist hadn't even noticed his friends yet, but when Strife
grabbed his arm and pulled him backwards he tensed and turned to face them.

"What the fuck?" Strife demanded, glancing over Hercules' shoulder at the
girl he'd been kissing. "Ya gotta be kiddin'. Gabbie?"

"It's none of your business," Hercules said, crossing his arms over his
chest and glaring at the other boy. "I don't tell you who you can sleep
with, do I?" He stole a quick glance at Cupid as soon as he finished
talking, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Strife's eyes narrowed and he took another step forward, jabbing his index
finger against Hercules' chest. "It's my business when yer fuckin' the
chick Xena's been into fer months."

Hercules rolled his eyes at that, letting out a short, bitter laugh and
casting a quick glance over Strife's shoulder before he turned back to him
again. "Come on, Strife, we all knew that was never gonna happen. It was
pathetic."

Even Auto winced at the expression on Strife's face when Hercules said the
word 'pathetic'. A quick glance at the girl he assumed was Gabbie let him
know this was the first she'd heard about Xena having a thing for her, and
he almost felt sorry for her. He wasn't sure what was going on exactly, but
he had a feeling Hercules was using her to make some kind of point to the
rest of his friends.

"Wait," she said, frowning as though she was trying to figure out what
exactly they meant by 'Xena's been into'. "What the fuck are you guys
talking about? Herc?"

"Forget it, it's nothing," Hercules said, dismissing her with a wave of his
hand.

"It's not nothin'. Shut the fuck up, Gabbie. Ya knew she had a thing for
ya and ya treated her like complete shit."

"I did not," Gabbie shot back, and judging by her expression Auto was pretty
sure she was telling the truth. Not that he was about to stick up for her
and ruin the fun. Most of the crowd at the front of the club was watching
the exchange now, and he had a feeling if a fight broke out that most people
would consider it more entertaining than the actual music. He glanced to
his right to say something to Psyche, but when he looked she wasn't standing
next to him anymore. He frowned and scanned the crowd behind him, but there
was no sign of her. He couldn't see their table from where he was standing,
but he had a feeling she hadn't gone back there.

He sighed and turned back to the fight, telling himself it didn't really
matter anyway. The chances of him distracting her from Xena had been slim
to begin with, and now they were probably nonexistent. He wasn't sure what
he'd missed in the few seconds that he'd been distracted, but whatever it
was had pissed off Strife enough that Cupid had moved between him and
Hercules to hold him back. The blond guy moved around Cupid and Strife to
push Hercules back, shaking his head and talking too low for Auto to make
out what he was saying. He was a little disappointed that they weren't
actually going to fight, but he wasn't surprised to see Cupid trying to
break it up before things got out of hand.

"Strife, come on, just let it go," Cupid said. They were standing close
enough to Auto for him to hear them, but neither of them even noticed he was
standing there. "Trying to kill him isn't gonna make Xena feel any better."

"It'll make me feel better," Strife growled, his gaze still riveted on
Hercules.

Cupid laughed and started to lean into Strife, and before he realized what
he was doing Auto reached out and grabbed his friend's arm. "Cupe." Both
of them turned to look at him, Cupid's eyes wide with surprise and Strife's
scowl still firmly in place. "Think about where you are, Cupe," he
finished, scanning the crowd around them before he focused his attention on
his friend again.

A short nod was his only indication that Cupid understood what he was
getting at, but Cupid's grip on Strife loosened and Auto heard him say
something about going to make sure Xena was okay. Before they had a chance
to move the crowd parted behind them and suddenly Cupid's dad was looming
over them, his expression dark as he took in the scene in front of him.
"Son?"

"Everything's fine, Dad," Cupid assured him.

Auto had to stifle a laugh at the idea of Cupid calling Ares 'dad' in front
of half the club, but he had a feeling his friend wouldn't get the joke.
Sometimes Cupid was so painfully naïve that it was impossible not to want to
protect him; that was the whole problem with trying to be his friend in the
first place. He watched Cupid and Strife follow Ares back toward their
table, his attention returning to Hercules and the other guy as soon as they
were gone. Hercules had managed to shake his friend off him, and all Auto
saw was a glimpse of his back as he turned to follow Gabbie through the
crowd.

The rest of the crowd began to turn back to their own conversations as
Strife and Hercules stalked off in opposite directions, and Auto watched
while the drummer looked around and let out a sigh. He ran his hands
through his mop of long blond curls and shook his head, his gaze falling on
Auto. "Did you see where Strife went?" he asked, maneuvering around a few
people to stop in front of Auto.

"He and Cupe went that way," Auto answered, nodding in the direction of the
stage. "They might've gone to look for Xena. I have a feeling that's where
Psyche went too."

"Psyche?"

"Yeah, my girl…that girl I was with last night," he amended. It felt weird
to think of Psyche as anything other than his girlfriend, but he had a
feeling after tonight he wouldn't have much of a choice. "If Xena saw your
friend and that girl she's probably somewhere plotting their deaths or
something. Psyche probably went to talk to her. You know how chicks are,
they can't do anything without talking to some other chick about it."

"Yeah." Iolaus nodded distractedly, frowning in the direction of the stage.
"Thanks."

Three seconds later he was gone, weaving his way through the crowd in the
direction of the stage. Auto let out another sigh and glanced around,
shaking his head when he realized he was alone again. Going back to the
table and sitting there with Cupid's dad didn't sound all that appealing, so
instead he headed in the direction of the bar. He could definitely use a
beer, or possibly something stronger. His whole life was starting to get
really confusing, and he just wanted to not think about it for awhile.

~

Psyche opened the door to the dressing room carefully, bracing herself for
screaming or crying or something heavy flung in her direction. When she
didn't hear anything she frowned and pushed the door open all the way,
scanning the room to assure herself that it was actually empty. She crossed
to the door she remembered from the night before as the bathroom, but it was
empty too. The closet Cupid and Strife had been using was equally empty,
and when Psyche realized Xena was nowhere to be found she sighed and walked
back out of the dressing room. There were a couple more closed doors in the
hallway, but one was marked 'office' and when she tried the knob it was
locked. The other one was just another closet, this one lined with boxes of
what looked like bar supplies.

She was about to give up and head back into the club when she caught sight
of a sign at the very end of the hall, and she walked toward it and saw for
the first time that there was a door painted the same color as the wall.
She took a deep breath when she reached it, praying she wasn't about to set
off some alarm as she pushed it open and stepped outside. The sudden rush
of night air was almost cool against her skin, and she shivered a little as
she glanced around the alley and finally spotted Xena.

"Don’t shut it," Xena said, surprising a nervous blush out of Psyche. She
nodded and looked around for something to prop the door open with, finally
settling for a piece of questionable-looking cardboard propped against the
wall. She made sure the door didn't close before she let go of the handle
and crossed the dark alley.

"You mind if I…" Psyche gestured toward the crate next to the one Xena was
sitting on, stifling a relieved sigh when Xena shook her head.

"It's probably a good thing you came out here," Xena said after a long
moment. "I didn't think about the door locking until after I shut it."

Psyche grinned and leaned forward, noticing for the first time that Xena was
holding a cigarette. "You smoke?"

Xena shrugged and looked down at the cigarette before tossing it on the
ground and crushing it under the heel of her boot. "Only when I'm nervous.
Or seriously pissed."

"So you saw."

Xena looked up at her then, her blue eyes bright even in the darkness of the
alley. "It was pretty hard to miss. But how'd you…?"

"Strife kinda said something," Psyche answered, wincing as she imagined
Cupid's reaction to hearing that she'd ratted his boyfriend out. "I don't
think he meant to embarrass you or anything. He was pretty pissed that
Hercules would do that to you, he probably wasn't thinking about who would
hear him."

"Great," Xena groaned, her head dropping into her hands. "That's perfect."

Psyche stopped herself before she actually touched the other girl, folding
her arms over her chest and curling her fingers into her palms in an effort
to keep herself from doing anything she'd regret. "It's not that bad.
Okay, it's pretty bad," she added when Xena turned her head far enough to
glare at her. "But you didn't do anything wrong. So you had a little
crush, she should be flattered."

"You don't get it," Xena mumbled into her hands. A second later she took a
deep breath and straightened up, fixing Psyche with an unreadable
expression. "Look, what are you doing out here? I mean you don't even know
me."

"The testosterone was getting pretty thick in there," Psyche answered, a
grin tugging at the corners of her mouth when Xena raised an eyebrow at her.
"Besides, I figured it might be easier for you to talk to somebody you
don't know."

Xena considered that for a moment, then her features lit up in a wry grin.
"So do you always go around doing free therapy at night clubs? Or are you
just getting into charity work?"

"I wouldn’t call it charity work," Psyche said, returning the other girl's
smile. "The truth is I'm probably the worst person for you to talk to.
Let's just say I've been there."

"You?"

Psyche swallowed the urge to tell Xena not to sound so surprised. She knew
that from an outsider's perspective her life looked pretty close to perfect;
rich parents, a cute boyfriend who didn't get jealous when someone else
caught her eye, and friends that genuinely cared about her. As far as most
of the kids in her school were concerned she led a charmed life. "Well, for
starters, my so-called boyfriend's in love with our best friend."

"Yeah, Strife mentioned something about Auto having a thing for Cupid. He
seemed to think Cupid was pretty much oblivious, though."

"Oh yeah. He's as clueless as they come when it comes to knowing if
somebody's interested in him. If Strife hadn't dragged him backstage that
first night he never would have thought he had a shot. But he's really
happy, you know? I don't want to see Auto screw that up."

"So you two…I mean it's none of my business, but why don't you just break up
with him?"

Psyche smiled at the question she'd been asking herself ever since this
whole thing with Cupid and Strife started. "It's complicated. I mean I've
known him forever, you know? We've been friends practically our whole
lives, and I don't want to just cut him out of my life. I guess I've just
been waiting for the right time to tell him."

Xena nodded and stood up, clearing her throat and glancing in the direction
of the door. "I better get back. If they haven't killed each other we've
got another set to play."

"Yeah, sure," Psyche answered, standing up to follow the other girl inside.
She had a feeling she'd said something wrong, but she wasn't sure what it
was or how to fix it. She wasn't even sure if Xena wanted her to, or if she
was just being nice. Maybe she really had wanted to be alone, only she was
too polite to tell Psyche to fuck off. There weren't many girls in her
school that would give her the time of day, let alone actually wanted to
hang out for girl talk. So it wasn't like she had a lot of experience with
it, but she couldn't stand the thought of Xena off somewhere suffering by
herself. She knew how much it hurt to find out someone you cared about was
interested in somebody else, and even though her relationship with Auto was
a little different it still hurt to know she was second choice.

Due to this becoming a massively huge page, I've split this story onto two pages. Parts 1 to 19 can be found on this page and parts 20 and on can be found on the next; follow the link to continue.
Onto the story...

[ Update  | Fiction  | Challenge  | Round Robin  | Joint Effort Fiction  | Links  | Gallery  ]

Broken links or other errors can be sent to Carrie. Suggestions are also welcome.