Overheard Conversations, Part 27

for ratings and warnings please see Part 1

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Hercules sat in the corner and gritted his teeth. He and Iolaus were in a tavern in Thrace. A tavern where people were dancing. Where Iolaus was dancing…with Widow Twanky.

‘Damn, she’s good.’ Hercules thought to himself as he watched her dip his partner, friend, want-to-be-lover.

The demi-god took a long drink out of his mug and frowned when he realized it was empty. One of the tavern maidens sidled up to him and offered to get more. Hercules waved absently at the pretty young woman.

‘I wish she’d get the Tartarus out of the way.’

Hercules got his wish as the woman flounced off in a huff. She was not used to being ignored and bent down attractively when she sat the filled mug back on the table.

“Here you go…*sir*.” Her voice purred more than a dozen cats, but Hercules ignored the kitten voice and the ample cleavage that was being thrust in his face.

“Oh, thanks.”

He craned his neck, trying to see around her. Iolaus and Widow Twanky were still dancing. The older woman leaned forward and whispered in Iolaus’ ear. She was so close that a lock of his curly golden hair fluttered as she talked. Iolaus jumped and shivered at the sensation and then he laughed at whatever she was saying to him.

Hercules growled.

At the next table, several hunters decided it was time to call it a night. People on the dance floor noticed Hercules’ bad mood and decided to sit down for a while…on the other side of the room.

In fact, everybody except the Widow Twanky and Iolaus, were watching Hercules with a great deal of trepidation. Herc didn’t notice, because all he could see was his best friend and *that woman* getting closer and closer.

Hercules growled and snarled.

The song ended and Hercules thought he was saved, but alas and alack (I’ve always wanted to say that.) it was not to be. An even *slower* song began and the Widow Twanky pulled the blond hunter in close. They began to sway with the music and Hercules began to sway in his chair…from anger.

Iolaus squeaked when the older woman grabbed his nicely shaped, leather clad butt…with both hands. Before Hercules knew what he was doing, the demi-god was up and across the room. He grabbed Iolaus by the arm and snarled at the dance instructor.

“Keep your hands to yourself.” He tugged decisively on Iolaus’ arm, pulling the smaller man inexorably towards the tavern door. “Come on, we’re out of here.”

Iolaus took one look at Hercules’ face and decided not to argue with his bigger and much stronger friend.

Not that he really wanted to anyway.

^^^^^^

A scantily clad, blond young woman, bounced up to stand beside the more sedately dressed Widow Twanky.

“I think that worked, don’t you dearie.” She turned to look at the Goddess of Love.

Aphrodite smiled as she listened through the closed door. She could hear Hercules ranting as he drug Iolaus to the inn where they were staying. “I think it just might.” The invisible goddess (to everyone else) smiled again. “Thanks for your help.”

“Oh no, thank you.” The smaller woman rubbed her hands together. “I’m always glad to lend a *helping hand*.”

The two women laughed at the joke. People in the tavern steered clear of the obviously insane woman laughing by herself in the middle of the dance floor.

^^^^^^

Strife moved sluggishly back and forth on the bed. The muscles in his back and side spasmed and cramped endlessly. They were gnarled up like the branches of an old tree. The young god rocked himself slightly. It didn’t help with the pain, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

It was always worse at night. The pain seemed to grow substantially worse when the sun went down. The young god had come to hate seeing the sunset, something he normally loved.

True to his word, Strife wasn’t trying to hide it anymore. Not that he could. His pain could be seen in every movement and heard in each and every whimper he made.

Cupid molded himself to Strife’s back, he could feel the muscles twisting and contracting as he leaned against them. His body heat seemed to alleviate the pain somewhat. Cupid reached around and began to rub Strife’s stomach, trying to ease his husband’s burden.

Strife flinched and jerked at Cupid’s touch. Cupid immediately started to remove his hand. Strife stopped him by latching onto it and holding it up to tuck under his neck like a security blanket. The young god rocked faster.

“He’s too sore.”

Cupid looked up at Apollo. “What do you mean?”

Apollo smiled sadly at the love god. “His body is too sore to be touched.” At Cupid’s uncomprehending look, the Sun God explained. “Let me give you an example. Try rubbing your leg. It would feel good for a while, but then it gets annoying. If you keep it up long enough, it becomes painful.”

Ace saw the horrified look on Cupid’s face and *accidentally* hit his father on the arm for his lack of tact. “You haven’t done anything wrong Cupid; he’s just worn out.”

On the bedside table, the power collecting jar released a small amount of energy. The blue tendril floated over to the suffering god. It helped boost his flagging strength, which was a bad thing, because during a momentary lull in the pain, Strife had been about to fall asleep.

Strife cried out and gasped for breath. He frowned and began pulling on the oxygen mask frantically.

“No Strife, you need to keep that on.” Asclepius’ gentle touch stilled Strife’s weak hand.

The pregnant god shook his head. “I want it off fah a few minutes; it’s smotherin me.” Strife’s voice was muffled, but they understood him.

“All right, but just a *few* minutes.”

Strife nodded and looked a little less frantic when the mask was removed. “Thank ya.”

He twitched and squirmed. Strife tried rolling to his back and Cupid obediently pulled his husband over, onto his body. That helped for a minute and then Strife was moving again. He looked over his shoulder at Cupid.

“Help me sit up a minute. Ma-maybe that’ll help.”

He sounded so desperate that Cupid immediately scrambled around on the bed. With the help of Ace and Apollo and Joxer, who had just flashed in, they eased Strife up so that he was sitting on the side of the bed.

Strife was rumpled. His clothes were wrinkled and tangled, his hair was sticking out in all different directions (Yes, this time was different. It was sticking out in a *bad* way.) and his bed was a mess too. Joxer waved and refreshed Strife’s clothes and bedding.

“Is that any better?” Cupid asked hopefully.

Shaking, Strife looked at Cupid and seemed to be thinking. He shook his head no and then contradicted himself as he said, “I don’t know.”

He gasped and arched his back in pain. Strife started crying hopelessly. “It don’t stop.”

“What doesn’t, baby?” Cupid was at a loss, he didn’t know what else to do.

“Tha pain.” Strife gripped the sheets. “It doesn’t stop anymore, not even fah a minute.” He jerked in pain and ripped huge patches off of the sheets.

“Oh gods!” He leaned forward and grabbed onto Cupid’s hips; his slender fingers leaving tiny bruises on Cupid’s skin. “Make it stop…please, someone help me.”

Strife buried his face into his husband’s chest. Another spasm and he screamed. The sound was muffled, but Cupid felt it straight through to his heart.

“Oh gods, do something.” Joxer looked at the two healers and begged. He was crying as badly as Strife and Cupid were.

Apollo was pulling on his hair frantically, trying to think of something, anything. Ace was pacing when suddenly…he stopped. The healer looked at the agony Strife was in and made a decision. He closed his eyes for a second and concentrated.

There was a brief flash. Cupid looked up to see Hades; he clutched Strife tighter in fear. Strife felt Cupid tense up and peered over his shoulder.

“Not taday…please.” Strife sobbed. “I don’t know if I could say no taday.”

Hades moved forward and knelt in the middle of the bed. “Shhh, it’s all right.” He placed a hand on the back of Strife’s neck and there was a slight flash. Strife sagged in Cupid’s arms like he had no bones left in his body. Before Cupid could panic, Hades touched his other hand to the back of Cupid’s neck. “It’s all right.” He reassured again.

The two gods laid Strife back in the bed. Joxer again fixed the sheets. The young god was still crying helplessly. Joxer reached over and stroked his best friend’s forehead soothingly; all the while exerting a tiny fraction of his godhood. It worked and as Strife felt the peaceful feelings envelope him, he calmed down.

Strife lay, gasping for breath and looking around in wonder. “I’m not hurtin anywheah.” Looking over at Cupid, he smiled, his blue eyes trying to be comforting. “I ain’t hurtin, Cupe.”

Cupid smiled and kissed Strife carefully and quickly. The young god was still panting for breath. Cupid ran a hand over Strife’s dark hair as he cupped his chin; realizing that Strife was once again frozen by Hades.

“thank ya.” Strife’s voice was a reedy whisper.

Cupid looked up at his uncle, thanks shining from his eyes.

Hades smiled sadly at both men and ran a comforting hand over both of their heads. “No thanks are necessary.”

“is this…hurtin…tha baby?”

Hades moved back as Asclepius replaced Strife’s oxygen mask and Apollo waved a hand over his stomach.

“No, the…” Apollo started to speak and closed his mouth quickly. “…baby seems fine… Oops, I almost spilled the grain. You still don’t want to know what the baby is, right?” At Cupid’s nod, he continued. “Okay then. The *baby* is fine, *it* seems to be asleep right now.”

“how…how long can I stay like this?” Strife was struggling to keep his eyes open. “can I take a little nap?” He frowned, hating that he was begging, but he was just so tired.

“I think you can take more than a nap.” Apollo smiled, not his usual wolfish smile, but a genuine ‘I care about you’ smile.

“okay.” His eyelids fluttered as he tried to keep them open. Strife looked at his tired and still upset husband. “ya…ya need ta get some rest taa.” Strife’s eyes slid shut and then opened reluctantly. “go on now…” He watched Cupid struggling. “please.”

“All right baby, if it means that much to you, I’ll go get something to eat and rest for a while.” Cupid smiled, but it was a strained smile, showing just how close to the edge he was.

Strife watched through slitted eyes as Cupid went out the door. “joxah?” He looked beseechingly at the other young god.

“I will.” Joxer smiled and followed Cupid into the hallway.

When Strife saw that Joxer was going to take care of Cupid, he allowed himself to fall asleep.

Hades, Apollo and Asclepius carefully turned Strife back onto his side so his breathing was better. They all sat down to wait; keeping vigil over the injured god.

^^^^^^

Joxer followed Cupid out into the hallway, just in time to see him slide down the wall into a huddle. The young god raced forward and pulled Cupid into a hug, noticing that Cupid was rocking himself just like Strife had been.

“Shhh, it’s all right. It will be all right.”

For just a moment, Joxer had the feeling this had happened before. He recognized something vaguely familiar about this situation. A flash of an image raced across his mind, but before he could identify it, Cupid began talking.

“How? How in Zeus’ name is it going to be all right?” Cupid buried his face in Joxer’s shoulder.

“Cupid…”

Cupid raised his head up. Joxer winced at the sad look in his eyes. “Strife is in so much pain. How can he go on for another three or four weeks!”

The love god leaned back against the wall. Joxer sat down beside him. “I don’t know how to help him.”

Joxer held his step-son and let Cupid cry. He didn’t use his powers this time, because Cupid needed to let some of the tension out or he was going to explode. Eventually Cupid leaned back and closed his eyes.

“He’s not always in pain.” Cupid opened his eyes and looked into Joxer’s sincere brown ones.

“You’ve never been mortal and therefore don’t really know what it’s like to be hurt, do you?” Cupid thought about it for a moment and then shook his head.

“I’ve never thought about it before. But no, I haven’t ever *really* been hurt.” The God of Love frowned and looked upset again, like it was a bad thing to be uninjured.

“Right, well…I have.” Joxer swallowed hard at some of the memories that simple sentence evoked. The young god pushed those memories back into the deepest part of his mind.

“Strife is hurting. He gets tense when something hurts or cramps up. That, in turn, makes his body tense, which just makes him hurt more. The next time something hurts, it’s worse and so on.”

Cupid listened and thought about what Joxer was saying. “Add to that the lack of sleep from hurting so much and he was bound to fall apart.” Joxer smiled kindly and Cupid relaxed.

“He’ll feel much better after he’s rested. Strife’s body will be comfortable and won’t ache nearly as much.”

The love god frowned and whispered. “But how’s he going to make it for another month?”

“Nothing says he has to carry the baby that long.” Cupid looked at Joxer with hope for the first time. “Babies are born early all the time. Maybe this one can too.”

Cupid sat up and grabbed hold of Joxer’s arms. “Do you think…maybe it’s…” He bit his lip. “Do you really think so?”

Joxer nodded, his brown hair danced in the torchlight. “Yes, I do.”

Cupid stood up and the two men started back to ask Ace and Apollo. At the other end of the corridor, a door flew open. Athena raced down the hallway waving a small book in her hand.

“I think I’ve found something!”

^^^^^^

Joxer flashed into the chamber. He looked around for Ares and spied him leaning against the far wall. Joxer strode over, completely ignoring the glowering man in chains.

Despite *many* days worth of torture, Tryst was still his arrogant self.

“Ares, you wanted me.” Joxer smiled at his husband and hoped this wouldn’t take long. He needed to get back to Strife. Only his and Cupid’s presence comforted the pained god nowadays.

Mind you, Strife wasn’t actually in pain right now, because he was still frozen by Hades. But the pregnant god was still exhausted and tended to panic when he woke up and couldn’t move. More fears, courtesy of the monster restrained behind Joxer.

“Angel, it’s your turn.”

Joxer frowned, his mind his preoccupied with Strife.

‘I wonder what Athena found in that book. I hope it’ll help Strife.’

Preoccupied with his thoughts, Joxer missed hearing what his husband had to say. A touch on his arm brought Joxer back to the present.

“I’m sorry Ares, what did you say?”

Ares’ eyes twinkled with love and Joxer had to smile back. The God of War gestured towards Tryst.

“It’s your chance to punish Tryst.” Ares smiled at his gentle, loving husband. “If you want, one of us could take your turn.”

Several of the gods leaned towards the couple. They were hoping Joxer would take his husband up on the offer. They really didn’t see the God of Peace hurting anyone.

“Oh.” Joxer looked at the naked man. “Okay.”

Mistakenly they thought Joxer was giving up his turn. They soon learned better.

Joxer walked over to stand in front of Tryst. He tilted his head back and forth, several times…appraisingly. While the other gods had planned and perfected their revenge, Joxer had been too worried about Strife to even think about it. Besides, Joxer’s mind just didn’t work that way. The young god could defend himself and those he loved, but he had never deliberately hurt anyone before.

He frowned for awhile. He couldn’t think!

Joxer blew out a breath of frustration. “Oh, the Tartarus with it.”

The nice young god stepped back a few feet. He raised his hand and everyone waited without very much hope.

At the last second, Joxer turned to Ares. “He can’t pass out right.” At a nod he continued. “And he won’t become numb to the pain?”

Ares smiled. “No, he feels every second.”

“Okay, good.” Joxer smiled at his husband brightly.

He turned back to his friend’s rapist and the smile fell off like it had never been there. Tryst looked a little less sure of himself.

He wasn’t facing Joxer the Mighty or the God of Peace. No, Tryst was being confronted with Joxer, the young man who had been hurt most of his life. Standing there with a hardened face was Joxer, who knew *exactly* what Tryst had done to Strife. Things that even Cupid didn’t know yet.

“I’ve always thought that simple was the best.”

With that the young god rubbed his hands together briskly. A fire ball formed between his palms. It was a bright orange-red color, almost too bright to look at. Joxer pulled his arm back and threw.

Everyone waited, this time in breathless anticipation. They weren’t disappointed.

The fire ball flew from his hand and stopped a few feet later. It expanded, going up to the ceiling. The sides and back widened until you had a solid column of flames.

Tryst’s shook his head in denial. His lips were trembling and tears started to run down his face. No one knew, but the evil god had a phobia about fire. He looked to Joxer and whimpered.

For the first time, Tryst was really frightened. Even the gods have a healthy respect for fire.

Joxer hesitated a moment and then he made himself think about Strife. Strife as a child, being hurt by Tryst. Strife as he was now, in constant pain.

The God of Peace smiled, a truly malevolent smile that frightened the most hardened of the gods. He pursed his lips and blew gently. The flame leapt forward and didn’t stop until Tryst was surrounded.

The screams reached a new level.

Joxer calmly turned and walked out the door. His mind already back on his friend and what he could do to ease his pain.

The room behind him was thunderstruck. The gods looked from their shrieking prisoner to the slender, retreating body with awe. They would never take the God of Peace for granted again.

^^^^^^

Strife felt the ghost of a touch glide across the back of his hand. He opened his eyes to see Cupid looking so sad. His hand was one of the few places Cupid could safely touch his husband without causing him additional pain.

Actually it wasn’t. But Strife wasn’t going to let Cupid know that. He might stop. Strife took whatever affection he could get, forgetting that love was his for the taking any time he wanted it.

The God of Mischief closed his eyes and went back to sleep.