Overheard Conversations, Part 10

for ratings and warnings please see Part 1

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Strife darted into the room, his arms straight down at his sides and his hands clenched into fists. He inched behind the door and stood there waiting. A shadow came to the door and stopped. Strife held his breath. After a few seconds the shadow went on and Strife relaxed back against the wall. Pushing away from the wall he walked across the room.

“I can do this, I can do this.” Strife passed by an invisible Cupid and sat down on the edge of Ares’ desk. “I just need ta calm down.” Strife crossed his arms, hands still clenched, and rocked back and forth.

Cupid and Ares looked on in worry. Strife was so agitated his body was practically humming. Being this upset wasn’t good for him or the baby. But there was nothing they could do, because technically they weren’t even there.

After a minute Strife grimaced and made himself stop rocking. He uncrossed his arms and grabbed hold of the edge of the desk. “I am not gonna ruin Joxah’s baby showah.” Strife nodded decisively as his fingernails made furrows in the wooden desk.

“Everthin will be all right. I’ll just stay in heah for a little while and then go back out theah all calm.” Strife slid off the desk and began to pace. Unknowingly, he walked between his husband and his uncle.

He paced agitatedly between the two gods. Back and forth he went; turning so fast that his loose tunic swung out around him in an arc. He put a shaky hand over his mouth to stop his trembling lips.

“Okay maybe I bettah stop now, cause I’m makin mahself dizzy.” Strife proved this was true by swaying alarmingly. Both men reached for Strife, but couldn’t catch him. (Well, duh!) He bent over with his hands on his thighs, trying not to fall on his face as the world got gray and fuzzy. To Strife it was like a thick piece of dusty gauze was put over his face.

Strife straightened up and reached over to lean on the desk. Unfortunately, the desk was several inches past his hand. Strife started to tilt over and would have fallen if fate hadn’t intervened. (Actually it was The Fates.)

Cupid and Ares both automatically reached out to catch him. This time their hands, just barely, touched something. It was enough support and kept Strife upright as he stumbled over to the desk and plopped back down. “Ow, that hurt.” He rubbed his bottom lightly.

“Thank you ladies.” Cupid looked around the room. “Thank you for letting me help him.”

“You are welcome.” The disembodied voices echoed in the room.

Cupid looked back over at his husband who was still rubbing his bottom. “What’s up with that?” He looked at his father who looked just as concerned and puzzled as he was.

“Uh oh.” Strife turned a decidedly green color and he magicked up a big bowl.

He hunched over the bowl, one arm wrapped around his bad ribs and moaned. “Oh please, not taday. I really don’t wanna puke taday. I know, I’ll do that ‘take a coupla deep breaths’ thingy.” Strife took a really deep breath. He gasped and dropped his bowl as he clutched at his ribs. “Bad idea.”

Strife sat hunched over for a few minutes. He slowly sat back up and grimaced again. Cupid thought he was in more pain. He was, just not the kind of pain Cupid thought.

Strife was staring over Cupid’s shoulder. Ares and Cupid turned to see what Strife was frowning at. Neither one of them saw anything upsetting.

“How come I nevah noticed how many mirrahs theah are everywheah?” Strife snarled at the offending object and raised his hand to get rid of it. After a few seconds he relaxed. “Oh yeah, I’m at Unc and Joxah’s, I can’t move it.” He turned his body slightly so he couldn’t see himself.

Strife laughed. “It’s probably a good thing anyway; that room is gettin kinda full.”

“All these mirrahs have got ta be Dite’s fault. Or Apollo’s maybe. They both like lookin at themselves.” He got up and began to pace again. “Eithah that or it’s punishment for us ugly ones.”

^^^^^^

Cupid was stupefied. Ugly!? Where in Tartarus did he get the idea he was ugly?

Cupid raked his eyes over his husband’s gorgeous body. Long and lean with that wild hair and oh god, his amazing blue eyes.

He felt himself becoming aroused and squashed the feeling down purposely. He couldn’t do that right now.

^^^^^^

Strife almost kicked the bowl he had dropped and he started to pick it up. He remembered at the last second, when his ribs reminded him, not to do that. With a wave of his hand the bowl disappeared. It was then that Strife noticed the gouge marks he had made on the desk.

“Great. Not only was I sittin on Unc’s desk, now I’ve scratched it up.” He moved his hand and the marks vanished. “He’s gonna blast me inta next week.” Strife rubbed a hand across his stomach. “Well maybe he’ll wait til I have tha baby before he does that.”

Strife smiled. A sad little smile.

He heard somebody walk by the open door. Both men watched as he stiffened up. They were both wondering what was going on. What had happened?

Strife slumped and sat back down on the desk. He closed his eyes and began rocking again.

“Strife.”

Strife yelped and jumped. Cupid and Ares jumped as well. They didn’t yelp. They were *manly* gods after all. (Yeah, right.) They had been concentrating on Strife so hard that they didn’t hear Joxer come in.

“Oops.”

“I’m tellin in ya Joxah, a bell would look really good on ya.” Strife smiled at his friend.

Joxer walked into the room and sat down on the couch. (All right. I know. He’s over 8 months pregnant. Really he waddled in and eased himself down. But Joxer’s just too cute to waddle.) He looked his friend up and down and frowned at what he saw.

“That doesn’t look very comfortable,” he indicated the desk. “Why don’t you come over here and sit by me.” Joxer gestured and then patted the seat beside himself when Strife hesitated. “Come on.”

Strife walked over and sat down with a heartfelt sigh. “Ya’re right this is a lot bettah.” He closed his eyes and tried to relax. “So, how come ya’re in heah and not out theah at yar party?”

“I just wanted to get away for a little bit.” Joxer turned to Strife. “I love my party.” He hastened to assure his easily hurt friend. “It’s just that, well…don’t get me wrong, I love them…” Joxer looked at the open door. “…well maybe love is too strong…like…anyway, they can be a little…”

“Overwhelmin?”

“Yeah. You too?”

Strife nodded. “Yeah.” Strife hesitated, giving his friend a sidelong glance. “Ya know this has been tha strangest week ah mah life.”

“Strange? How?”

Strife considered a minute. “Everybody treats me different.”

Cupid and Ares both stiffened up at this information and started to growl. Ares looked over at his husband and gasped. This caught Cupid’s attention.

Sweet, loving Joxer, the God of *Peace*, was scowling. His eyes were narrowed and practically spitting fire.

“How are they treating you different?” Joxer’s voice sounded so calm; in complete contrast to his visage.

Strife wasn’t fooled. He looked up at his friend and quickly put out a placating hand. “No, calm down. Not different bad, just different. They’re bein…nice ta me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Joxer still looked angry. Only now he was angry at Tryst and everybody else who had treated Strife so badly that he was uncomfortable when people were *nice* to him.

“Nah, just weird.” Strife chewed on his lip, thinking. “People are friendly.”

“As opposed to nice?”

“Yeah. Taa friendly, if ya know what I mean.”

“Oh…I see.”

“Joxah I tell ya, I’ve had more propositions in tha last week than I evah had in mah entire life.”

“Oh really, just how many offers have you had?”

Strife twisted his wedding ring nervously. Cupid noticed that the ring slid loosely on his finger. “Nine.”

Joxer blinked in surprise. Ares’ mouth fell open. Cupid’s eyes started glowing a bright green. (Uh oh.)

“Actually I’ve been propositioned more in tha last coupla hours than evah before.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re a pregnant, happily married god,” Joxer noticed that Strife flinched at the happily married comment, “at a *baby shower* and you’ve been hit on?” Strife nodded. “How many times?”

Strife cleared his throat and blushed a bright red. “Four.”

“Four? Wow! I’m impressed.” He turned and looked through the doorway, considering. “Geez, I’d hate to think of who in *that* crowd would be hitting on you.”

“I’m not sure…but I think Hermes was probably jokin when he asked me if I wanted ta *really* learn how ta fly.” Strife blushed and looked down at the floor. It sounded so stupid when he said it; he had misunderstood Hermes and was making a *complete* fool of himself.

“Don’t count on it. Hermes might be a liar, but he’s always up for sex.” Joxer rolled his eyes and said, “No pun intended.”

Strife had to think a minute before he realized what Joxer was talking about. He snorted softly and thought maybe he hadn’t been wrong after all.

“Is he the one who upset you so much?”

“What are ya talkin about Joxah?”

“Strife, a few minutes ago you bolted out of that room like you had been shot with one of Cupid’s arrows. Obviously someone or something upset you. So was it Hermes?”

“Nah, he came ovah way early in tha party.” Joxer just waited.

“Tha one that was really kinda creepy was…Poseidon.”

“Poseidon?!” Strife nodded. Joxer thought of the *huge* god and gulped.

“Yeah. He was talkin ta me and all I could think of was, holy crap.” Strife shuddered and grimaced in pain. “Luckily he backed off gracefully when I said, no thanks. Not like…”

“Hmm, let’s see, a god who wouldn’t back off. Who could that have been? Let me think. Oh, I know, Apollo!” Strife blinked at Joxer’s sarcasm.

“You too, huh.”

“Oh yeah.”

^^^^^^

Ares was boiling. People were hitting on Strife, a very emotionally and physically vulnerable Strife. The same gods who wouldn’t talk to him 3 weeks ago now wanted to get into his pants!

Apollo had been coming on to his husband for god only knows how long. Ares growled low under his breath.

“Apollo is a dead man.” Ares nodded at his son.

Cupid was so agitated that his wings were spread out behind his body and vibrating like mad. Several feathers were flying through the air; loosened by his flapping and kept floating in the air.

“Cupid, calm down or they’ll never let us go to our husbands.” (The God of War trying to calm somebody down. What’s the world coming to?)

Cupid knew his father was right; The Fates were fickle. Besides he wanted to help his spouse. So far nothing seemed to indicate why Strife was so upset; disgusted maybe, but not upset.

^^^^^^

“Actually three ah tha nine times were by Apollo.”

“Yeah, Apollo is not really known for taking *no* for an answer. You have to be firm.” Joxer smiled wolfishly.

Strife blinked at the alien expression on his friend’s face. “Oh, yeah. How do ya do that?”

“I’ll tell you, you…” Joxer gestured Strife closer and whispered in his ear. Strife’s eyes popped out of his head. (Not really, because that would just be disgusting.) He leaned back at looked at his *innocent* friend.

“Wow. Now, I’m impressed.”

“Thank you.” He grinned at Strife smugly. “Trust me. You do that and he’ll leave you alone, way alone.” Joxer smirked. “Or if you want, I can take care of it for you.” He laughed at the thought. “Nowadays Apollo flashes out so fast when he sees me it’s not even funny.”

Strife smiled at that and Cupid sat down hard. He realized that he hadn’t seen his husband smile in at least a week. Had he done that?

“Tha weirdest was when ya hit on me.”

Ares and Cupid’s heads both snapped up in surprise at that bit of information. “What?” Luckily neither Joxer nor Strife could hear the jealously in their husband’s voices. (Actually it might have done Strife some good.)

Joxer looked bemused. “Really? Funny, I don’t remember that and I think that’s something I would remember doing.”

“Yeah, well it was almost you. Albeit a you with blond hair and a…Spanish? accent.”

“Ah, Jayce. Yes, he his accent is Spanish.”

“Buy ya’ll ain’t from Spain. Has he evah been theah?”

“Nope, not that I know of.”

“Okay…whatevah.” Strife let it drop. He certainly knew about odd relatives. “Anyway he didn’t really hit on me; more like he made an observation.”

When Strife didn’t go on, Joxer prodded him. “An observation?”

Strife blushed again. “He said that I looked delicious and he wanted ta lick warm honey from mah body.” Strife was bright red now.

So was Cupid for that matter, just not for the same reasons. Ares had a firm grip on his son and it was a good thing, otherwise Cupid would have gone after Jayce. (He wouldn’t have gotten far. Don’t forget he’s still in The Fates cave.)

“Course he was all wistful then, cause I’m ‘happily married and he’d never be able ta do it’.” Strife had still been twisting his wedding ring. Now he let go of it and instead started playing with the arm of the couch.

“I’m sorry if he upset you; that’s just Jayce’s way of talking to people.”

“That ain’t it.” Strife frowned. “I was flattered. At first, I thought that it sounded messy and then, and then I thought about Cupid doin it.” Strife closed his eyes and smiled dreamily. All three other gods watched him and smiled on their own.

“That’s when I got upset. Cause I realized it ain’t evah gonna happen.” Strife was practically whispering and had started to pull threads out of the arm of the couch. (Let’s face it, an upset Strife is bad on the furniture.)

^^^^^^

Cupid couldn’t understand what Strife was talking about. Why in Tartarus did he think the honey thing would never happen?

Cupid ran a hand across his mouth, checking for drool. He was seriously going to hurt Jayce, but wow, he couldn’t stop picturing Strife laid out covered with honey. That was sooooo going to happen as soon as Strife could handle it.

He looked over at his sad and depressed husband.

I’ve gotta do something to cheer him up. But what? (Well, duh!)

^^^^^^

“Why wouldn’t it ever happen?”

Strife looked up, surprised at the question. He hadn’t intended to say that last part out loud. Pasting on a fake smile, Strife waved a hand airily. “Oh nothin. Come on we need ta get ya back ta tha party.”

He started to get up, but only got half-way there when Joxer took hold of his arm to stop him. “Wait…” Joxer never got to finish what he was going to say, because as soon as he touched his friend’s arm Strife cried out, jerking it back and clutching it to his chest. “Oh gods, did I hurt you?”

Strife flopped back down on the couch and tried to reassure his friend. “No, ya didn’t do anythin.”

Over Strife’s protests, Joxer took hold of his left arm and gently pulled his sleeve back. Everyone but Strife was horrified at what they saw. His arm, from elbow to wrist was one huge bruise.

“What happened?”

“I just hurt mah arm this mornin is all. It’s no big deal.” Strife sounded so depressed, like he didn’t care that he was hurt at all.