Fic: Stupid Cupid 7/42 (Xena, Cupid/Strife, NC17)
Title: Stupid Cupid
Fandom: Xena
Pairing: Cupid/Strife
Rating: NC17
Summary: An AU that sprang from a challenge posted on the AJCS list, in which Strife is the lead singer in a punk band and a teenage Cupid falls in love.
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.
Fandom: Xena
Pairing: Cupid/Strife
Rating: NC17
Summary: An AU that sprang from a challenge posted on the AJCS list, in which Strife is the lead singer in a punk band and a teenage Cupid falls in love.
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.