Fic: (Xena, Cupid/Strife, NC17)
I was going to say a bunch of stuff about this fic, but...eh. Whatever. It's part of the Stupid Cupid AU, which should tell you everything, except that this went a little melancholy on me and I'm not sure why. It features Cupid/Strife with a cameo by Ares/Joxer, and it falls between the end of Stupid Cupid and the beginning of The Trouble With Paradise. I hope those of you who enjoyed that series will enjoy this too.
~
In the week Strife was gone, a heat wave settled over the city, bringing with it record-breaking temperatures and no relief in sight. There were brownouts pretty much daily, and the ancient air conditioner in the loft couldn't keep up with the rising temperatures even when the electricity was working.
Cupid spent most of the week camping out in his old room at his father's apartment, telling anyone who would listen that he was only staying there because Ares' air conditioning worked. But the truth was that after just a few weeks of waking up next to Strife every day, Cupid couldn't stand the silence. And it was weird, because he'd spent most of his life in the depressing quiet of his mother's house, but rattling around the loft for a week was too much for him.
He only talked to Strife a couple times while he was visiting his father; they were brief, awkward conversations tagged onto the end of Ares' phone calls to Joxer, and each one left Cupid feeling even more nervous about Strife's eventual return. He didn't understand it, because right up until the second Strife left, all Cupid could think about was getting him back again. Now…well, he still loved Strife as much as ever, but for the first time he was nervous about seeing him.
His dad hadn't bugged him about it much; he'd tried to make Cupid feel better a couple times, tried to reassure him that as soon as Strife got back everything would be the same and he'd wonder why he'd spent all that time worrying. And Cupid appreciated the effort, even if it didn't work. But mostly he spent his time brooding in silence, counting the days, then the hours, then finally the minutes until Joxer and Strife would appear on the subway platform.
The subway smelled like burning asphalt and sweat, and Cupid shifted his weight from heel to heel as he watched the dark tunnel for any sign of the train. He wasn’t even sure why he'd suggested they go meet the train instead of just waiting back at the apartment where it was nice and cool, but part of him wanted to get it over with. Like tearing off a Band-Aid.
The train rolled down the tracks way before he was ready, leaving Cupid with a stomach full of butterflies as passengers filed off into the miserable heat. Joxer and Strife appeared somewhere in the middle of the pack, and when Cupid caught sight of them his heart started pounding so hard he wondered for a second if he was having some sort of attack. Then Strife was standing in front of him, looking exactly the same as when he’d left, and Cupid didn’t even wait for him to put his stuff down before he slid his arms around Strife’s neck.
“I missed you,” he murmured, felt Strife whisper something back and arms tighten even harder around him. Like Strife was a little afraid to let go. Cupid knew the feeling.
But the heat wave was still on, and there was only so long they could stand there glued together before the temperature started to get to them. So Cupid let go reluctantly and took Strife’s bag, ignored Strife’s protest and swung it over his shoulder. And okay, maybe it was kind of silly to insist on carrying a bag, but it felt good to have something to do.
Joxer didn’t put up a fuss when Ares took his bag, Cupid noted, he just grinned kind of dopily and leaned into Ares when his dad slid an arm around Joxer’s shoulders. For a minute Cupid thought they might forget about him and Strife altogether, but when they reached the sidewalk Joxer remembered to look back at them.
“Are you two hungry? We could all stop for lunch.”
Cupid was already shaking his head when Strife said ‘thanks anyway’, and he was surprised how relieved he was to know Strife wanted to go home. They said their goodbyes and Cupid promised to come by and clean up the mess of clothes he’d left in his old room, then they headed back toward the train that would take them home.
“Fuck, it’s hot.”
“It’s been like this since you left,” Cupid said. “And I should probably tell you the air in the loft isn’t the greatest. I’ve been staying with Dad.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Strife answered, and Cupid hoped he still meant that when they got back to the loft. “I just wanna go home, Cupe.”
As soon as he said it Cupid’s heart did this weird little tap dance inside his chest, and he would have felt stupid except that no one else could hear it. So he reached out and grabbed Strife’s hand, pulling him down the stairs and into another subway station.
The trip home took less than half an hour, but it felt like forever. When they got there the temperature inside was only slightly less stifling than it was outside, and Cupid wondered briefly if they should have gone back to his dad’s place after all. It was too late now, of course, because he was pretty sure he knew exactly what Ares and Joxer were doing right now, and he wouldn’t want to walk in on that even if he was on fire.
On the first day of the heat wave he’d pointed an old box fan at the sofa in the hope of moving some of the air around the room, but it didn’t really work in such a big space. He’d given up after one night of tossing and turning and gone to his dad’s, but now that Strife was back he was willing to try again. So he unplugged the fan and followed Strife into the bedroom, plugging it in and pointing it toward the bed.
By the time he was finished Strife had ditched his bag somewhere in the vicinity of the closet, and now he was looking at Cupid like he wasn’t sure what to do. And this was so stupid, because they’d been together for months and shyness had never been one of their problems. But Strife had been pretty quiet since he got off the train with Joxer, and Cupid wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to ask questions or just wait until Strife decided to talk about it.
It wasn’t like he didn’t want to know how things had gone with Strife’s dad. He did, just like he wondered if Strife saw his mother or any of his old friends. He just wasn’t sure how to ask, and maybe he should have gotten his dad to give him a pep talk about this part of the reunion.
He wasn’t sure which of them moved first. Strife, if he had to put money on it, but as soon as Strife moved Cupid did too, and then it didn’t matter that he couldn’t find the words to ask how it had gone. Because Strife was kissing him, hard and desperate like he had way back in the beginning, when they kept telling themselves every time was going to be the last.
There was no finesse involved in getting out of their clothes, but Cupid wasn’t that worried about technique. All he could think about was getting as close to Strife as possible, pressing against him until their skin started to melt together. Sweat pooled at the small of his back, then the hollow of his neck and each time Strife licked at his skin until Cupid was whimpering and pressing up into him. It was hot and messy and a lot quieter than it had ever been before, but he told himself not to worry. There was nothing to worry about, because Strife was home and he wasn’t leaving again.
Afterwards they lay shoulder-to-shoulder, sheets tangled down around their ankles and the feeble breeze from the fan the only thing keeping them from cooking alive. Cupid thought about getting up long enough to get all the ice out of the freezer and bring it back here just to cool them both down, but it was too much effort to sit up, let alone stand. Instead he lay there with his arm touching Strife’s, cataloging every spot on his body where he could still feel Strife’s touch.
“So how was it?” Cupid finally asked, because it seemed like the thing to do. He expected Strife to make a dumb joke about sex and Cupid’s sudden insecurities, or maybe just to pretend he was asleep so he didn’t have to answer the question. Instead he shrugged without looking over, gaze fixed on something Cupid couldn’t see.
“Okay, I guess. Kinda weird.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really. I mean, no offense, Cupe,” he said, suddenly restless and Cupid could tell he felt guilty. It made him worry even more, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. “There’s just not much to tell, ya know?”
“Sure,” Cupid answered, reached down to thread their fingers together. And he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure Strife that it was okay, or if he was just trying to hang on, but maybe it didn’t matter.
~
Today's songs are actually Christmas songs, though only in a marginal way, particularly the second one. They're from the John Prine Christmas album, and if you're not familiar with John Prine...well, one of the songs on that album is called Christmas in Prison, which sort of sums him up, I think.
John Prine -- Everything Is Cool
John Prine -- All the Best (Live)
And in case you are interested in hearing a cover of one of my favorite John Prine songs, here's Nanci Griffith doing a cover of Speed Of the Sound of Loneliness. This song always makes me want to cry.
~
In the week Strife was gone, a heat wave settled over the city, bringing with it record-breaking temperatures and no relief in sight. There were brownouts pretty much daily, and the ancient air conditioner in the loft couldn't keep up with the rising temperatures even when the electricity was working.
Cupid spent most of the week camping out in his old room at his father's apartment, telling anyone who would listen that he was only staying there because Ares' air conditioning worked. But the truth was that after just a few weeks of waking up next to Strife every day, Cupid couldn't stand the silence. And it was weird, because he'd spent most of his life in the depressing quiet of his mother's house, but rattling around the loft for a week was too much for him.
He only talked to Strife a couple times while he was visiting his father; they were brief, awkward conversations tagged onto the end of Ares' phone calls to Joxer, and each one left Cupid feeling even more nervous about Strife's eventual return. He didn't understand it, because right up until the second Strife left, all Cupid could think about was getting him back again. Now…well, he still loved Strife as much as ever, but for the first time he was nervous about seeing him.
His dad hadn't bugged him about it much; he'd tried to make Cupid feel better a couple times, tried to reassure him that as soon as Strife got back everything would be the same and he'd wonder why he'd spent all that time worrying. And Cupid appreciated the effort, even if it didn't work. But mostly he spent his time brooding in silence, counting the days, then the hours, then finally the minutes until Joxer and Strife would appear on the subway platform.
The subway smelled like burning asphalt and sweat, and Cupid shifted his weight from heel to heel as he watched the dark tunnel for any sign of the train. He wasn’t even sure why he'd suggested they go meet the train instead of just waiting back at the apartment where it was nice and cool, but part of him wanted to get it over with. Like tearing off a Band-Aid.
The train rolled down the tracks way before he was ready, leaving Cupid with a stomach full of butterflies as passengers filed off into the miserable heat. Joxer and Strife appeared somewhere in the middle of the pack, and when Cupid caught sight of them his heart started pounding so hard he wondered for a second if he was having some sort of attack. Then Strife was standing in front of him, looking exactly the same as when he’d left, and Cupid didn’t even wait for him to put his stuff down before he slid his arms around Strife’s neck.
“I missed you,” he murmured, felt Strife whisper something back and arms tighten even harder around him. Like Strife was a little afraid to let go. Cupid knew the feeling.
But the heat wave was still on, and there was only so long they could stand there glued together before the temperature started to get to them. So Cupid let go reluctantly and took Strife’s bag, ignored Strife’s protest and swung it over his shoulder. And okay, maybe it was kind of silly to insist on carrying a bag, but it felt good to have something to do.
Joxer didn’t put up a fuss when Ares took his bag, Cupid noted, he just grinned kind of dopily and leaned into Ares when his dad slid an arm around Joxer’s shoulders. For a minute Cupid thought they might forget about him and Strife altogether, but when they reached the sidewalk Joxer remembered to look back at them.
“Are you two hungry? We could all stop for lunch.”
Cupid was already shaking his head when Strife said ‘thanks anyway’, and he was surprised how relieved he was to know Strife wanted to go home. They said their goodbyes and Cupid promised to come by and clean up the mess of clothes he’d left in his old room, then they headed back toward the train that would take them home.
“Fuck, it’s hot.”
“It’s been like this since you left,” Cupid said. “And I should probably tell you the air in the loft isn’t the greatest. I’ve been staying with Dad.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Strife answered, and Cupid hoped he still meant that when they got back to the loft. “I just wanna go home, Cupe.”
As soon as he said it Cupid’s heart did this weird little tap dance inside his chest, and he would have felt stupid except that no one else could hear it. So he reached out and grabbed Strife’s hand, pulling him down the stairs and into another subway station.
The trip home took less than half an hour, but it felt like forever. When they got there the temperature inside was only slightly less stifling than it was outside, and Cupid wondered briefly if they should have gone back to his dad’s place after all. It was too late now, of course, because he was pretty sure he knew exactly what Ares and Joxer were doing right now, and he wouldn’t want to walk in on that even if he was on fire.
On the first day of the heat wave he’d pointed an old box fan at the sofa in the hope of moving some of the air around the room, but it didn’t really work in such a big space. He’d given up after one night of tossing and turning and gone to his dad’s, but now that Strife was back he was willing to try again. So he unplugged the fan and followed Strife into the bedroom, plugging it in and pointing it toward the bed.
By the time he was finished Strife had ditched his bag somewhere in the vicinity of the closet, and now he was looking at Cupid like he wasn’t sure what to do. And this was so stupid, because they’d been together for months and shyness had never been one of their problems. But Strife had been pretty quiet since he got off the train with Joxer, and Cupid wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to ask questions or just wait until Strife decided to talk about it.
It wasn’t like he didn’t want to know how things had gone with Strife’s dad. He did, just like he wondered if Strife saw his mother or any of his old friends. He just wasn’t sure how to ask, and maybe he should have gotten his dad to give him a pep talk about this part of the reunion.
He wasn’t sure which of them moved first. Strife, if he had to put money on it, but as soon as Strife moved Cupid did too, and then it didn’t matter that he couldn’t find the words to ask how it had gone. Because Strife was kissing him, hard and desperate like he had way back in the beginning, when they kept telling themselves every time was going to be the last.
There was no finesse involved in getting out of their clothes, but Cupid wasn’t that worried about technique. All he could think about was getting as close to Strife as possible, pressing against him until their skin started to melt together. Sweat pooled at the small of his back, then the hollow of his neck and each time Strife licked at his skin until Cupid was whimpering and pressing up into him. It was hot and messy and a lot quieter than it had ever been before, but he told himself not to worry. There was nothing to worry about, because Strife was home and he wasn’t leaving again.
Afterwards they lay shoulder-to-shoulder, sheets tangled down around their ankles and the feeble breeze from the fan the only thing keeping them from cooking alive. Cupid thought about getting up long enough to get all the ice out of the freezer and bring it back here just to cool them both down, but it was too much effort to sit up, let alone stand. Instead he lay there with his arm touching Strife’s, cataloging every spot on his body where he could still feel Strife’s touch.
“So how was it?” Cupid finally asked, because it seemed like the thing to do. He expected Strife to make a dumb joke about sex and Cupid’s sudden insecurities, or maybe just to pretend he was asleep so he didn’t have to answer the question. Instead he shrugged without looking over, gaze fixed on something Cupid couldn’t see.
“Okay, I guess. Kinda weird.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really. I mean, no offense, Cupe,” he said, suddenly restless and Cupid could tell he felt guilty. It made him worry even more, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. “There’s just not much to tell, ya know?”
“Sure,” Cupid answered, reached down to thread their fingers together. And he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure Strife that it was okay, or if he was just trying to hang on, but maybe it didn’t matter.
~
Today's songs are actually Christmas songs, though only in a marginal way, particularly the second one. They're from the John Prine Christmas album, and if you're not familiar with John Prine...well, one of the songs on that album is called Christmas in Prison, which sort of sums him up, I think.
John Prine -- Everything Is Cool
John Prine -- All the Best (Live)
And in case you are interested in hearing a cover of one of my favorite John Prine songs, here's Nanci Griffith doing a cover of Speed Of the Sound of Loneliness. This song always makes me want to cry.