Finding out where Strife's temple was didn't turn out to be that difficult after all, which was both good and depressing. It upset the young immortal to realize that no one knew where Strife lived"because they didn't care enough to look.
Joxer walked down to the temple, because he didn't want to bother Ares with having the god flash him. Not that Ares ever minded, but there was the principle of the matter. And"Joxer missed walking.
He was used to traveling around with Xena and Gabrielle, and even when he didn't, where he walked everywhere he went. Even after all these years of living on Mount Olympus, the former warrior liked to take his walks.
"He can't keep avoiding me if I come to his home," Joxer reasoned. "He's got to come here"eventually""
Joxer stopped and stared, open mouthed, at Strife's"home.
"Home?" Joxer questioned, looking at the haphazard edifice.
"Joxah?" Strife's voice wafted out of the doorway. Joxer wasn't surprised that he could hear him so well, not considering that the door was just a couple of boards cobbled together.
"Yes, it's me." The false brightness in his voice belied the sickening feeling that Joxer had in his stomach. "I've brought a picnic," he added, holding up a basket of food.
"A picnic?" Strife opened the door. A wave of his hand and a burst of godly energy were all that kept the rickety door from falling apart. "Uh, come on in."
"I'd love to." Joxer beamed happily at his friend and followed him inside.
****
"Ares, it was horrible."
The war god watched as his lover, no, his fiancé, he amended to himself, stomped around, gesticulating wildly. Ares hadn't seen Joxer this agitated in years.
"Joxer." The young immortal didn't seem to even hear him. "Joxer!" The God of War snagged hold of the smaller man's arm and pulled him down onto his lap. Ares was sitting on his black marble throne and now had a lapful of Joxer for company.
"Tell me about it," he demanded.
"It's all"" Joxer waved his hands around, trying to describe the decrepit place. "It's falling apart. No, actually, I don't think it was ever together in the first place."
Ares frowned, trying to imagine a god living in some place less that perfect. He started to question his lover, but Joxer beat him to it.
"The walls aren't straight, the ones that are there at least. Not every wall is complete!" Joxer took a deep breath to calm down. "The roof is made of"I'm not sure what, but it's a good thing it doesn't rain on Olympus or Strife would have been drenched."
The God of War could feel the horror coming off of Joxer and if it was bad enough that he was upset"it was bad. Joxer had spent the majority of his grown life living outdoors and sleeping on the rocky ground; it would take a lot to bother him.
"There's just one room," Joxer said quietly, "with one, small offering table. I"there was another doorway and I peeked." The warrior looked at the god with tears in his eyes. "It was a door that led nowhere," he whispered. "I saw what might have been a beam or two, indicating that another room had been planned, but there wasn't anything there."
Lips trembling, Joxer buried his head in Ares' neck and began to sob. Ares rubbed his lover's back, trying to soothe the immortal. All the while, he was alternating between rage and sorrow at the news.
****
"Strife?"
Even with the warning, Ares wasn't prepared for the reality of the situation. The god glanced around the shack that his nephew had been living in for all these years and thought he was going to be sick.
Not only was it only one, badly constructed room, but there weren't any amenities at all"not even a bed. Ares glanced at the pile of twigs and leaves in one corner in wonderment. It was only when he saw the scrap of a blanket lying, neatly folded, on one corner did he realize that *this* was the bed.
"Uh"Unc."
Strife grinned nervously and scuffed his boot against the floor. A small cloud of dirt billowed up and he stopped. Pale blue eyes darted around his home and Ares could see the pale skin of his cheeks brighten in embarrassment.
"Strife"" Ares hesitated, feeling unsure, which wasn't his usual behavior.
"Uh, was theah somethin ya needed me ta do fah yah? A war ta stir up or somethin?"
"Well"" Ares took one quick look around and made a lightening fast decision, as was his wont. "Yes, Joxer needs you."
"Joxah?" Strife straightened up and looked his uncle in the eye for the first time. "Is somethin wrong with him?"
Ares shook his head quickly. Most everyone, but Strife especially, worried about Joxer since his ordeal with the Spanish Inquisition. The last thing Ares wanted to do was add to that.
"No, nothing wrong, but he does need your help."
"Ah course. Anythin I can do," Strife said sincerely.
"Good. He, uh"needs your help planning the wedding."
"Tha weddin?" Strife blinked in surprise. "It's kinda soon fah that, isn't it?"
"Well"yes, to us it is, but not to Dite it won't be."
Strife nodded his head knowingly. The black spikes glistened in the sunlight that was coming in from several open spaces in the roof.
"Okay, sa what can I do ta help?"
"I want you to come back with me to mine and Joxer's temple"and stay there for a while."
The mischief god sucked in a surprised breath. "Ya"what?"
"Yes, you can stay in your old rooms," Ares added nonchalantly. Privately, he decided that there was no way in Tartarus that Strife was coming back *here* until it was livable.
"O-okay."
"Great, that's all settled." Ares rubbed his hands together vigorously. "Let's go."
The god started to flash them out of there, but stopped in mid-flash when Strife yelled, "Wait!"
Ares frowned at the interruption, but his (brown) unfurrowed when he saw the smaller god dart over and pick up his blanket. Looking around, Ares realized that it was the only thing of dubious value in the home.
"Okay, I'm ready now."
This time, they flashed out without interruption.
****
"It's tha same,' Strife was stunned to realize. "Mah rooms look exactly like they did when I left"all those yeahs ago.'
"Strife?"
The God of Mischief yelped and spun around. He'd been so amazed at what he'd found that the hyper man was caught off guard, something that hadn't happened"in forever.
"Jox!"
"I'm sorry." Joxer winced in sympathy. He knew some of Strife's horrific background, but not all of it. No, Joxer sensed that there was a *lot* more that he didn't know about.
"T-that's okay. I was just startled." Strife smiled and sat down on the edge of his bed. He ran a hand over the dark blue coverlet, smiling at how soft it was.
Joxer sat down on the other end of the bed, after questioning Strife with his eyes. The god nodded shyly and Joxer realized he was nervous about being back at his childhood home.
"I, uh, was wondering"" Joxer bit his lip and tried to think of a tactful way to phrase his question.
"Ya're wonderin why I live in such a crappy place," Strife completed for him.
"Ye-es," Joxer admitted.
Strife shrugged one skinny, leather clad shoulder. "Traditionally, a god's followahs build their temples, not tha gods themselves. Or at least they start tha job. My followahs are mostly kids"or unhinged." He ran a gentle finger over his blanket. "I don't have that much powah ta do anythin," he admitted.
"Oh." Joxer frowned in contemplation. "There's got to be some kind of loophole for a situation like yours. It's not your fault that the little kids can't build anything. Are your other temples like that one?"
A pink stain crept across Strife's cheeks. "Oh," Joxer whispered, as realization struck. "That's""
""tha only temple," Strife finished for him. "Yeah."
Strife blinked blankly at Ares, obviously not understanding what he was talking about. His pale brow furrowed over his equally pale eyes. "Uh, okay."
Ares leaned back in his chair and studied his nephew. Strife was picking at the food on his plate, eating a bite or two of this and that. The war god tried to remember the last time he'd eaten a meal with his young relative and decided it was several months earlier. Thinking of that time, Ares realized Strife didn't eat much then either.
'No wonder he's so skinny.' Looking his guest over, Ares amended, 'And sickly looking.'
The God of War's eyes unfocused for a moment, as he looked *inside* of Strife for the first time in decades. It was common enough practice for godly parents to *look* at their children and see that the energy from their godhoods was flowing correctly. Ares was ashamed to admit that he hadn't checked Strife since the pale man was a child.
Ares was stunned at what he found, or rather what he *didn't* find. Mischief should have been a fairly strong godhood, considering all the unintentional bits of mischief that people played on each other daily, not to mention the deliberate pranks that some of the older children perpetrated. And adults were oftentimes the worst of the lot. Even some of the crafty, underhanded dealings that happened during a war could be traced back to mischief.
So why was Strife so weak?
There was a thin, wavery line of power seeping into Strife's aura, one that flickered and faltered from time to time. Every once in a while, a burst of energy would appear out of nowhere, but for the most part there wasn't much coming in.
Strife's uncle wondered how the God of Mischief was able to do any flashing around at all, let alone as much as he did when running errands for Ares.
He watched as Strife sighed and picked at his food, wondering who to talk to about this problem.
****
Strife sighed and tried to eat more. It wasn't easy, eating and paying attention to the conversation with Joxer. The god could see his uncle, out of the corner of his eye, watching him. Strife didn't want to be rude, but he was worn out, what with the upheaval of the day.
In truth, most days he felt like this...drained and exhausted. If Unc needed his help with a war, and Strife had been flashing from one spot to the other all day, Strife would just collapse on his nest* and concentrate on breathing, because that was all he could manage to do.
"Two weeks,' Strife reasoned. "It'll take two weeks at tha most fah Unc ta get sick ah me and want me ta leave.'
Strife figured decided to make good use of the time with Joxer and Ares. He dug into his food, determined to make up some of the energy he lost daily. If he couldn't do it the godly way, he'd do it the mortal way.
****
Strife felt like he had a grin permanently affixed to his face. That would've been fine, if it had been real, but it wasn't.
Cupid's invitation to dinner had been not completely unexpected, neither had the nervous flutter that had appeared in Strife's stomach the moment he'd been asked. Trying to pinpoint what was different from all the other meals he'd enjoyed at Cupid's temple, Strife realized he didn't feel safe here anymore.
****
If Strife's shoulders got any tenser, they snap off like little frozen wings.
Cupid watched as Strife smiled at Bliss' non stop chatter. Strife had been smiling when he'd arrived and hadn't stopped since, but it was a false smile, one supposed to reassure Cupid. It did the opposite. Even little Bliss felt the tension, hence his hyper talking.
Like his father, Cupid noticed how little Strife was eating. This was a change, because the mischief god had always eaten, if not heartily, at least enough to satisfy the cook.
The young god was subdued, not something that Cupid would ever have thought possible for the hyper god. But Strife was subdued and he was nervous too.
" `Thanks fah tha wondahful repast," Strife said with his painted on smile. " `I've gotta go, but thanks fah askin me ovah."
" `Uh, are you sure you don't want to stay a while?" Cupid was desperate to keep Strife around a little longer. " `Maybe have some desert?"
" `No thanks. I've got a war that Unc needs stirred up in tha morning." With a quick, nervous little wave, Strife flashed out.
Bliss sat in his special chair, the one that sat him up higher, yet protected his fragile wings, and looked miserable. His bottom lip quivered as the godling tried not to cry.
" `I'se don't want dis-des""
" `Desert," Cupid helped him out.
" `Yeps. I don't want any neither."
" `Either," Cupid corrected automatically. " `Alright, I'm not very hungry myself."
He helped his son down and watched as Bliss walked towards his bedroom. Snowy white wings drooped in disappointment. Cupid knew that Bliss had been looking forward to Strife reading him a bedtime story.
Disappointed himself, the love god plopped down in one of his chairs and compared this disaster of a night to the one, just a few weeks earlier, where he'd kissed Strife for the first, and so far, only time.
" `Damn."
Ares looked over at the scruffy man who had come in and was arranging things on the God of Mischief's offering table. It was apparent to Joxer that neither god was impressed with the slightly unkempt man.
"What do you expect," Joxer said in a low, but icy voice, "someone in flowing, white robes?"
Cupid and his father both looked surprised at the open hostility in Joxer's voice. Naturally, that was what they were expecting, because none of their priests would have dared to even enter one of their temples looking like this.
Cupid's priests were dressed in the finest linens and had genuine, gold-tips on their sashes. Ares' priests wore steely gray robes and had small, jewel encrusted daggers in their belts. The more jewels, the higher up they were in the hierarchy.
Strife's priest, his *one* priest was small and stooped over from too much work and poor diet. His hair was clean, as were his clothes and person, but they were ragged and, in the case of his clothing, patched in numerous places. He was barefoot and had been unshod for the majority of his life.
Joxer shook his head. "Ares, Cupid...Strife's priest works all day. He can only do this," he gestured to the straightening that the priest was doing, "*after* work."
Cupid's mouth was hanging open and Ares was frowning at the information. Ares turned to watch the man, who was ignoring everyone else in the mischief temple. He was used to not paying attention to the adults who frequented the place, because they usually weren't the sanest of people. Hence, the man didn't realize he was in the presence of two of the most powerful gods on Mount Olympus and a very well liked consort.
"He has a stall in the market, selling..." he paused to think a moment, "vegetables, I think."
"But...why?" Cupid asked in confusion.
"Because Strife doesn't get enough offerings to keep a priest all the time," Joxer explained patiently.
"You mean that's his *only* priest?" Cupid said in horror.
"Yes."
Ares digested the upsetting news and took a closer look at Strife's *temple*. He could look his fill, since Strife wasn't with them today. The war god had assigned some of his brawnier priests to fixing up the Mischief god's temple. The men hadn't been too thrilled with the assignment, what with Strife being a *minor* god, but one look at Ares' impassive face and they had caved. Even with the work that was going on, there still wasn't much to look at.
Strife's offering table was a slab of driftwood that had obviously been scrounged from somewhere and hadn't even been smoothed over. Ares knew, from what Joxer had told him, that Strife sat on and ate at the *table* which was the only piece of furniture in the room.
The walls give the impression of being wet and they were a kind of...gray and mottled looking. The God of War didn't want to know what must be growing on the walls to give them that nasty of a coloring. Hanging from the walls were cobwebs. Lots and lots of cobwebs, some so thick Bliss could probably get stuck in them.
Ares winced at the thought of his little grandson, innocently flying around the room, and accidentally getting caught, like a fluffy, white butterfly.
"Strife was innocent when he came here to live. And I never checked up on him, not once.'
Unaware of Ares' self castigation, Cupid was also fighting down his growing sense of horror. He pointed to one wall where a few, crude drawings were hung. They looked like cave paintings, unrefined and hard to decipher.
"Wh-what are those?" he asked hoarsely.
"Oh. Those were drawn by an insane follower of Strife's. According to him, "No one else wanted ta put anythin up on mah walls, so I let him.'"
Cupid whimpered. His walls were covered in beautiful frescoes and murals, painted by the most revered artists of their day. The love god knew that his father's walls were covered with battle scenes, but they were well done renderings.
"I...we...we've got to fix this." The love god's wings were quivering in distress. The fluttering motion stirred up a few leaves. "Why don't we sweep up, get rid of some of the debris in here." Cupid gestured to the pile of leaves and branches in the corner."
"No, don't mess with those, that's..." Joxer looked at both gods, hesitating to say something that would upset them even more. "That's where Strife sleeps."
Joxer grabbed hold of Cupid's arm. The god had turned so pale that the young immortal was afraid he was going to pass out.
"Where he...sleeps?"
"Yes," Joxer confirmed. The former fighter couldn't think of anything to say to ease the pain of discovery. They had all failed Strife, some just longer than other.
"I have an idea," Ares interrupted their musings.
****
The large god stumbled when he appeared in Phyladia. The ground underneath his feet was littered with all sorts of things; toys, weapon...and farm equipment. Ares looked at the paraphernalia with a jaundiced eye.
"Tartarus only knows what all this is for," he muttered.
"You have a wicked mind," came an amused voice.
Ares looked over and saw a smaller, blond-haired woman with eyes the color of summer grass. She was the person he'd come to see, Chymra, the Goddess of Magical Offerings.
"These," she indicated the items littering the ground, "were brought here by followers of mine. If you can believe it, they are all part of one man's jesting act."
Ares eyed the shovel and tried to imagine how that could be funny. He couldn't do it and gave a mental shrug. The god had more important things he needed to do. Chymra could have told the war god that the shovel was used to bury the animal droppings that the jester's pack animal left behind...but the imp inside her decided to let him wonder.
"I need your help," Ares told her.
"Of course, little one." She reached up a delicate hand and cupped Ares' face. "Anything for my favorite great-great-nephew."
"It's about Strife..."
****
"See here," Chymra pointed to a point on the mirror. "That's when Strife reached his majority. His full powers should have been activated then, but they weren't." The goddess stared at the Mirror of Revealing and frowned at what she saw. "Someone put a block on Strife when he was 15."
Ares' brow furrowed at that news. Someone had messed with his nephew's godhood and had made his life miserable for decades.
"As a god with such young followers, the energy of each prank *and* the idea of each piece of mischief should have translated into godly energy." She looked up at Ares. "This should be crackling with energy."
Instead, the mirror had a barely seen, rippling wave of energy, one that only slightly moved the energy around it. Once in a while there would be a slight *plop* and an energy bubble would break the surface, sending out waves across the mirror.
****
Strife leaned against the edge of Ares' throne in false nonchalance. He watched as Ares paced back and forth and tried to explain what had transpired.
Of course, Strife realized what must have happened. Tryst put the block on him.
Automatically, Strife cringed. His eyes darted around fearfully, expecting the huge god to come flashing in and punish Strife for even thinking about him.
When nothing happened, the mischief god pretended to relax. He was glad that neither Ares nor Joxer had noticed his brief moment of weakness.
"...your temples should have automatically appeared wherever there was a lot of worshipping of you going on. Little kids can't be expected to erect temples on their own, so they should have built themselves," Ares explained to Strife.
The young god nodded his head. "Okay, I get ya, Unc."
In Strife's mind, he didn't see what the big deal was. It seemed obvious that he *didn't* have that many worshippers...his temple was proof of that.
"You should brace yourself. Chymra is going to release the block on your magic, so you'll get the backwash from all these years." Ares eyed his nephew, trying to decide if Strife should lay down for what was going to come.
Strife bobbed his head a few times and stayed casually leaning against the black throne. He didn't want to disappoint Ares, who clearly thought the God of Mischief had a lot of pent up power hiding somewhere, but Strife really wasn't expecting much. All he's ever felt was a trickle of energy, most of the time, with brief flares when an especially big prank was performed.
"So, will she come heah or do I need ta go ta her temple?" Strife asked.
"No," Ares shook his head, his long black curls gliding across his leather vest. "Chymra doesn't ever leave her temple. She's going to release the block from there."
"Okay." Strife stood up straighter and waited for the *onslaught*. The young god giggled at the idea. Ares didn't get mad at him for laughing, they were all used to Strife's odd ways.
Ares tilted his head, listening to someone not in the room with them, and warned Strife, "here it comes".
"I'm re...ady..." Strife trailed off as the first wave of power washed over him.
"Oh...wow, that's really..." He gasped, his impossibly pale blue eyes widening in surprise at what he could feel surging towards him.
"Unc," he whispered in a small, frightened voice.
"It'll be okay," Ares assured him. The older god started to go to him.
Strife was blasted off his feet and across the room by the sheer volume of power that hit him all at once. The young god slammed onto Ares' map table and rolled off the other side. His breath came out in a woosh when Strife hit the rock floor.
"Strife!" Twin yells filled the room as Ares hurried to his fallen nephew and Joxer, hearing the loud thump, hurried in from the hallway.
"Why did you blast him?" Joxer demanded. His normally sweet countenance was scrunched up in anger.
"What?" Ares turned Strife over and was happy to note that there weren't any apparent injuries from the fall. "No, babe. I didn't blast him. This was a release of *part* of the energy he should have been getting."
"Oh." Joxer ducked his head and blushed. He should have known better. It had been years since Ares blasted Strife. "I'm sorry."
Ares grinned and cupped Joxer's blushing face in his hand. That only made the pink tinge even brighter. "I accept your apology."
It still thrilled the older god when Joxer apologized to him. Before the young man came into his life, no one would really admit they were in the wrong. It just wasn't an Olympian trait.
"What should we do with him?" Joxer asked.
Ares stood from where he'd been kneeling beside the table, an unconscious Strife draped limply over his arms. "We'll put Strife in his old rooms and let him sleep this off." Glancing down, he *read* Strife and added, "it may take a while".
****
It had been three days and Strife was still sleeping. Apollo had reassured the *very agitated* Ares that this was normal. Strife's body wasn't used to that much power and needed to let it absorb into his being, like a flower soaking up rays from the sun.
"Okay, honey, here we are."
Cupid gazed down at his son and hesitated for a moment. He had given into the little godling's begging and brought him to visit the unconscious Strife, but Cupid was hesitant. He was worried that the sight would upset his impressionable little son. After all, being one of the gods, Bliss had never seen anyone he loved sick before.
Bliss stood in the open doorway, one plump little thumb firmly entrenched between his lips. He eyed the sleeping god for a moment, his blue eyes wide. Shuffling hesitantly over to stand beside the bed, Bliss reached out a hesitant hand and patted Strife's pale one that was lying on top of the bright green coverlet.
"Hi, Stwifey." One front tooth was finally making its appearance, but the godling still lisped adorably. "How's you doing?" he questioned.
Taking hold of Strife's hand with one of his hands and the covers with the other, Bliss pulled himself onto the bed to sit beside the somnolent god. Cupid started forward when he saw Bliss struggling, but stopped when the little boy flapped his wings a few times to give himself a boost.
"So, you'se going to sleep a while, huh?"
Strife was lying on his right side and almost seemed to disappear in among all the bedclothes. Strife's larger-than-life personality and wild antics distracted people from noticing how small framed and delicate boned he really was.
Bliss carefully brushed the hair off of Strife's forehead. "That's okay. We'll take care of you." Bliss bit his lip as he thought. "I knowse, I'll tell you a bedtime story."
Cupid began to carefully back out of the room. He didn't want to disturb his son and hope-to-be lover.
"Once upon a time. There was a lovely pwincess. She lived in a tower *high* up in the sky." Bliss raised his arms in the air to demonstrate just how high up she was. "But she didn't like that, so she blasted out the door and left. One day..."
****
It took Cupid a while to stop laughing. 'Only in this family,' he thought, 'would a fairy tale include someone blasting things.'
Walking as softly as possible, Cupid tiptoed up to Strife's room. He flapped his wings so he was actually hovering, instead of walking. Peeking into the bedroom, Cupid smiled at the sight that greeted him.
Bliss was lying on the bed asleep. He was facing Strife, his little arms wrapped around the god's neck. Strife had a soft smile on his face.
_____________________________________
"How're you doing?" Joxer asked while they were sitting at the breakfast table.
"I feel *great*," Strife enthused. He bounced up and down in his seat a couple of times, hardly able to contain his energy. "I don't expect it ta last very long," he admitted. "Aftah all, this is tha result of ovah a hundred years ah pranks and bits ah mischief."
Strife shrugged, happy over the extra energy, and willing to enjoy it while it lasted. He dug into his breakfast with an enthusiasm that he hadn't show since he was a baby.
Joxer watched as Strife eyed the table and picked out *yet another* hunk of bread, one of the dark ones this time, and put another scoop of fluffy, scrambled eggs on his plate.
The former warrior had his doubts that Strife's newfound energy would just "fade away". The moment that Chymra had begun to release the pent up power, small shrines began to pop up all over Greece for the God of Mischief. Most weren't very big yet, but every day saw more and more.
Strife waved his hand and gave a delighted giggle when his mug filled up with orange juice. He'd had the luxury of that fruity delicacy a few times in his life, but had to leave it as a special treat because of the extra energy it expended to bring the liquid from a different part of the world.
This time though...
"Heah, try this, Joxah."
The god waved his hand one plate of odd looking food appeared in front of his best friend and an identical one in front of himself. The large, round discs were stacked on top of one another and topped with a fluffy white substance.
"What is it?" Joxer asked, looking at the concoction warily.
"Belgian pancakes," Strife informed him. He flapped a hand at Joxer's puzzled face. "Thay're from tha futah."
"Uh, okay." Joxer reached out and swiped a slender finger through the white stuff on top. He licked his finger and smiled over at Strife, who was watching him in anticipation. "This is really good."
His eyes glazed over for a moment as he imagined this sweet, fluffy stuff"spread over Ares' nicely browned skin. He imagined licking it off, very slowly.
"Can you get some more of this stuff for me?"
Strife grinned at the unfocussed look on his friend's face. He didn't have any experience with sex, the good kind anyway, but he knew lust when he saw it.
"I think I can arrange that."
Ares looked up in surprise when he heard the door to his war room opening and closing quietly. The quiet part is what had him amazed. *No one* was quiet in the God of War's temple"except for"
"Joxer," he breathed out softly.
The pale, slender man stalked, yes, stalked, towards the bigger god. Ares' eyebrow shot up at the predatory look in his fiance's eyes.
"Joxer, what's going on?" Ares noticed that the immortal had something long, white and metallic in his left hand.
"A surprise," Joxer replied. His voice was husky.
Ares opened his mouth to find out what he meant but he never got the chance. The much smaller, and infinitely less aggressive, lover"tackled the war god, knocking him back and onto the massive wooden table he was standing in front of. Maps and rolled up scrolls, containing correspondence from different generals, were knocked and/or rolled off onto the floor.
The God of War was stunned and incredibly turned on. Joxer attacked his mouth like a warlord pillaging a peaceful village, showing absolutely no mercy. Ares' tongue was shoved back into his mouth by the force of Joxer's tongue.
"Now!" Joxer sat up on the tabletop, straddling Ares' hips, a wicked grin on his face. "Let's get creative."
"What's"(gasp) He jerked when Joxer did something with the cylinder and a cold foam was sprayed on his neck, just where it began to become his chest.
"Whipped topping," Joxer explained. Of course, since Ares didn't study the future, like Strife did, he had no idea what that was, but he soon didn't care.
Joxer began to lick off the whipped topping. One tiny, little swipe of his tongue at a time, like one of the many kittens that roamed around the temple.
Ares definitely *did not* squeal at the sensation.
Strife sat down at one end of the table. At the other end Cupid presided and Bliss sat in his own little, raised chair mid-way between them.
The God of Mischief smiled at them, boy and man alike. In the back of his mind, like a sweet dream, he remembered Bliss lying beside him and telling stories. He also had a vague recollection of Cupid washing his face and arms, but he wasn't sure if that was wishful thinking or not.
"How have you been?" Cupid asked.
Strife gave an honest grin. "A lot bettah. Since they got tha mix-up fixed, I've got a lot more powah and energy."
"That's great," Cupid enthused.
"Thanks. I" Strife looked down in surprise when one of Cupid's servants sat a dish down in front of him. It was a concoction of fruits and custard and cake. Dessert.
He looked up at Cupid and frowned. "What's this?"
"Dessert," the blond god answered. "We thought," he glanced over at Bliss, "that we'd eat dessert first."
'So, I'll stick around for the whole meal,' Strife realized with a pang.
They wanted him to stay so much that Cupid, the strict disciplinarian, was willing to break the rules. Strife looked over at Bliss, and Bliss had such a hopeful expression on his sweet little face that Strife simply melted.
"Mmmm, it sure looks good," he admitted. "But maybe we can set it ta one side and have the regulah food first."
Bliss grinned and bounced a little in his seat. Come to think of it, Cupid was bouncing a little bit as well.
"Will you read me a stowy?" Bliss asked, eyes shining.
"Yeah, kid. I'd love ta."
Cupid, Bliss and Strife were all grinning when the servant brought in the first course. Normally, a smile from Strife was a scary thing, indicating that something hinky was going to happen very soon. But this time it wasn't. All three gods were simply happy.
The young god was sprawled over one of the thrones, his long, slender legs draped negligently over one of the arms of the chair. His casual attitude in such an austere room wasn't what was surprising though. It was what he was doing with his mouth. (Get your minds out of the gutter!)
Strife's jaw was moving up and down, like he was chewing something vigorously, but the seeming food never got any smaller. And when he opened his mouth...something pink and faintly glistening could be seen. Strife stuck his tongue out slightly and the protruding end was coated with the pink...glop. The god pursed his lips, sucked in his cheeks...and a bubble started to form from between his lips.
Joxer watched in fascination as the bubble got bigger, and bigger, and bigger. The immortal's eyes got bigger with each increase in the bubble's size. Finally...
POP!!!
"Strife?"
"Heya, Joxah." Strife waved a hand in greeting.
"Hi. Uhm, what is *that*?" he asked, pointing a finger at the god's mouth.
The God of Mischief giggled. Not one of his 'holy crap! run for the hills' giggles. No, just a small, amused laugh. "It's called bubblegum. It's somethin from tha futhah."
"Oh. Okay."
They were all used to Strife bringing odd things out of the Hall of Time. Something called a Rubik 's Cube had driven Zeus halfway out of his mind before Hera had banished it to Tartarus.
"What is it for?"
"Nothin," Strife smirked as he answered. "It really d sn't have a function. Ya just chew it fah fun. Wanna try?" He held out a piece of something covered in parchment.
Joxer shook his head. "No, thank you."
"K. Yar loss." Strife grinned again and this time, it did look slightly maniacal. "I can't wait ta get somebody with a beard ta try this. Cause when it pops, sometimes ya get it all ovah ya face."
" Is it really sticky?" Joxer asked, a suitable wince on his face.
" Yep," Strife agreed with a nod and a pop of the gum.
Joxer, who had once fallen asleep next to a tree and gotten some extremely sticky tree sap in his hair knew how easily it had intermingled with the strands of hair, holding it fast.
"And I'll bet it's hard to get out of hair, isn't it."
Strife nodded happily and giggled. "It's hardah than pryin a dinar outta Salamonuous' hand."
"Wow," Joxer said, suitably impressed.
"Yeah. I like Sal, but he sure loves ta make money."
Joxer nodded. He eyed Strife thoughtfully. "I wouldn't give that to Ares if I were you," he cautioned.
The former warrior winced, imaging something akin to tree sap in Ares ' beard. Joxer had been forced to all but shave his head; he didn 't want to see his fiancé lose his sexy beard.
Strife laughed. "Yeah. Tha temptation is theah, but Unc would be maddah than Cerberus with hemmrhoids."
The former warrior winced at that image. "Right."
" Avoid anybody with wings, taa," Strife advised.
Joxer flinched as he imagined Cupid or, even worse, little Bliss with their wings stuck together. " That would hurt."
" Most likely."
Strife seemed to think about it for a moment before he reached up to pluck the not so pink blob out of his mouth. He held the glistening wad in between his index and middle fingers for a few moments, contemplating before a truly evil grin appeared on his face.
" But wait til ya see what it d s tat ha bottom ah sh s," he whispered, giggling.
Giving into temptation, Joxer followed the God of Mischief outside.
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Ares heard giggling and paused in his perusal of a letter from one of his warlords. It wasn't just any giggling either; it was Strife. The younger god generally only giggled when he was up to some mischief and the laughter usually meant that the mischief was going to border on something nasty for someone.
Putting down the missive, the muscled god stood up from his black, leather chair, which matched his black, leather clothes and walked out into the hallway. He stood for a moment, because he wasn't sure of which way to go, until he heard another giggle that sounded even more maniacal. With a resigned sigh, he started down the hallway, his boots (black leather, naturally) made no noise against the stone flooring of his temple. He could hear Strife's voice coming from a room, two doors down. The war god was about to march into the room and find out what was happening when he heard another sound.
It was Joxer's laughter this time.
Ares stopped at the edge of the doorway. Joxer's laughter meant that whatever was happening wasn't something that was going to cause too much trouble. But, with Strife in the mix...he wasn't sure.
"See, Joxah," Strife said.
"Yes, that is so funny." Joxer laughed and this time, when Strife joined him, it was really a laugh, not one of his trademark 'run for the hills' giggles.
Ares glanced around the doorjamb, into the room, trying his best to look like he wasn't checking up on his nephew and his fiancé. Which, of course, is exactly what he was doing, but hey, he is the GOW (God of War, dontcha know) and he had some standards to maintain, after all. The two younger men were preoccupied with something they were watching on a scrying mirror to even notice the tall man watching them.
Strife and Joxer were sitting in two chairs that surrounded a small, low table, on which the scrying mirror lay. Joxer had his hand over his mouth, trying to hold the laughter in. Strife was holding his sides and had obviously given up and was laughing out loud. The two grown men looked like children playing. Ares knew for a fact that neither man had ever had much of a childhood, so he backed away, as quietly as he could, to leave them to their fun.
Ares was glad that they were so distracted. He was thrilled to see Strife back to himself. Since whatever happened between he and Cupid, the younger god had been subdued, something that Ares never thought he'd think about his hyperactive nephew. Apparently, things had worked out between the love god and Strife and both men, plus Cupid's little godling, were all happier for it.
Settling back down into his chair, Ares reluctantly picked up the scroll one of his idiot warlords had sent to him. The man had the brains of a rock, but he did have a loyal following, so Ares tolerated him. He put his lover and his nephew out of his mind, for the time being.
"Surely, they can't cause too much trouble," he reasoned.
####
"That has to be one of the funniest things I've ever seen," Joxer admitted, in between giggles.
"Yeah. Who woulda thought that ol' Apollo would have gotten inta sucha tizzy." The god broke into another gigglefest at the memory of this morning, which they had conveniently saved for posterity's sake on a scrying mirror.
Late, late the night before, or really early in the morning, whichever your preference might be, the two culprits, Strife and Joxer, and snuck into the stables where Apollo kept The Chariot.
You know, the one he used to pull the sun across the sky. Yeah, that one.
Anyway, they snuck in and left a little present in the bottom of said chariot. It was only after Apollo had started out on his morning ritual that he discovered the joys of bubble gum on the bottom of his sandals. He'd been too high up already to hear his reaction, but the chariot, and consequently the morning sun, had wobbled a bit as it rose into the sky.
Strife looked over at his friend as they watched the scene on the mirror, again. He knew that his job as the God of Mischief lent itself to doing crazy things, but Joxer was used to being more "reliable'. His father, and later on, Xena, had insisted on it. Strife was glad to see his quiet friend let loose and vowed to visit the Hall of Time more often to see if he could find things to coax the inner child out of him.
####
"What do you think?" Joxer asked Strife.
The mischief god leaned over until his chin was resting on Joxer's shoulder, so he could see what the immortal was talking about. The former warrior turned his head to look at Strife, who gave him an unrepentant grin. Joxer rolled his eyes and shook his head. Strife was always up to something or another, but it was so good to have him not being depressed any more that no one was really complaining.
"I don't know, Joxah. It's kind ah"floral."
"What's the matter with flowers?" Joxer asked in all innocence.
"Nothin. But, uh, can ya see Unc wantin flowahs all around on his weddin day?" Strife asked with an apologetic wince.
Joxer turned back to look at the room where their engagement party was going to be housed and winced. There were indeed flowers everywhere; around the chairs, all over the dais where Zeus would stand, on the walls"the ceiling.
"Dite?" Strife asked.
"Yes," Joxer admitted. The blond goddess had come over to help the day before, hence the plethora of flowers, a lot of which were pink, naturally.
"Maybe if we did something like this," Strife offered, as he waved his right hand in a circle.
When Joxer looked again, he saw that interspaced among the pink flowers were several that were darker in color. There were the expected black ones, but also purple and magenta colored ones, as well. Where the darker flowers would have been depressing on their own, mixed among the bright pinks, they weren't too grim. Likewise, now the explosion of pink was tamed down a bit and seemed pretty, instead of "gag me' overwhelming.
"I like it," Joxer stated, turning around in a circle to see the whole room. "And, more importantly, I think Ares will too."
"Yeah, I think Unc'll appreciate tha changes," Strife said, his tongue firmly between his teeth.
Both younger men new that the war god would have been horrified with Aphrodite's idea of decorating. However, with Strife's little touches Ares might just live through his engagement party, without going color blind. "Pink' color blind, that is.
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"Yeah, I do a lot of the work on my temples myself," Ares admitted. "The excess energy I get from my followers sort of...automatically repairs and updates the buildings, adds additions, etc."
"*That's* Strife's head priest?" Cupid muttered.
Chapter 10
Joxer walked into the throne room and stopped so suddenly that a passerby would have thought he'd hit an invisible wall. No, it wasn't his lover and fiancé ambushing the former warrior for a little afternoon romp. It was Strife.