---

Title: Pair of Fools 1/31

Authors: Erin and Candace Dream Team

Part 1 Author: Candace

Fandom: HtLJ/XWP

Pairing: none yet, but *coming* soon

Summary: When Cupid begins abusing his powers out of boredom, Aphrodite clips his wings to teach him a lesson.

Archive: Erin's House O' Fanfic, Fugue, RCoS

Feedback: I'll gouge my eyes out, cut my fingers off and pluck out my tongue if you don't.

Rating: This part, G. NC-17 eventually

Warnings: excessive whinging and numerous useless adverbs

Disclaimer: I'm a poor underpaid civil servant and my car is over 12 years old. It doesn't even have automatic windows or locks. So don't sue me, please.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^
PAIR OF FOOLS
Part 1
^*^*^*^*^*^

“Okay, like, Cupie?” Aphrodite’s perfect pink lips made a perfect pout. She was pretty mad. “I’ve, like, had it up to here with you.” She made a jabbing motion over her head with a pink-manicured hand.

Cupid crossed his arms unconcernedly. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“The big deal?” ‘Dite stormed forward on petite feet. “The big deal??” Her ample, rounded bosoms heaved. “The big deal is that Hestia’s virgins are supposed to be just that: virgins. Why’d you go shoot ‘em up with your love arrows???”

“Just bored, I guess,” Cupid drawled.

The Goddess of Love clucked her tongue and stormed away. She crossed the room of the Temple of Love and made her way to a tall, white vase of perfect pink roses, rearranging them jerkily. A thorn pierced the pad of her dainty forefinger, and she jumped back, shaking her hand. “Now look what you made me do, “ she cried, tossing her cascade of long, blonde curls.

Cupid shrugged slightly.

“Someone’s gotta teach you a little respect, Cupie-boy,” growled Aphrodite, blue eyes flashing.

Cupid smirked. Aphrodite was a pretty cool mother, even if she was a stick in the mud sometimes. Sure, she’d yell and fuss and carry on, but at the end of the day, she’d let it all blow over. “’Kay, then. See ya on the B-side.”

Cupid gathered his divine energies in preparation to transport himself to Bacchus’ summer home in Crete. Rumor had it that the two hottest muses and an albino satyr would be there. The only thing left to decide was which effect to exit with, and which to use upon his appearance. He’d just leave his mom with a whoosh of air, a pulse of light and a tinkling of bells. But for Bacchus’ party, he’d need a grander entrance. Lots of red, and maybe some bronze sparkles.

Cupid concentrated. No effects.

Okay, he’d dispense with the exit, then. He didn’t want to be late.

No red lights, no bronze sparkles.

“What the...?”

Aphrodite crossed her arms over her plush breasts and sighed heavily. “Sorry, Cupe. Guess that someone’s gotta be me.”

“Mom--are you blocking my powers?”

Cupid stared down at his muscular arms and washboard abs, then looked up at his mother beseechingly with round, hazel eyes.

Aphrodite brightened. “Well, actually, I was just keeping you here for a sec while I tried to think of a way to make you listen to me for once.” She waved her shapely hands, and a mist of tiny, golden sparkles appeared around Cupid like a cloud, settling on his skin and prickling for a moment before they disappeared. “But that’s really not a bad idea.”

Cupid stared at the glittery remnant of his mother’s show of power, sparkling on his skin like gold dust. He’d look plenty hot at Bacchus’ party. “Okay, mom. That’s nice. But I really gotta get going.”

A cool lick of breeze hit his back where his quarrel usually hung, and Cupid was shocked to find his arrows and his bow in his mother’s dainty hands. He tried to take a step toward Aphrodite, but his foot felt glued to the white marble floor. “Hey!” he protested.

“You won’t be needing these,” Aphrodite said smugly. She turned to an inlaid bureau at her side and locked the love weapons within, locking the heavy doors with a heart-shaped key that she tucked into her lush cleavage for safekeeping.

“Okay, mom, that’s not funny. Give me back my bow.”

“Nope,” Aphrodite chirped. “It’s all part of the lesson you have to learn.”

“What lesson is that?”

“That your powers are a gift, and using them is a privilege.”

Cupid rolled his eyes. “Don’t go all Titan-generation on me, mom.”

Aphrodite shook a pink-nailed finger at him. “You’re good as mortal, Cupie, until you make a couple fall in love--*true love*--without your magical items, and without your powers.”

Cupid began to complain, but his protests died on his lips. He’d never seen his mother so dead serious. Instead he tried the only thing he could think of: flight.

He spread his wings and flexed his powerful thigh muscles to leap into the air, calculating the angle he’d need to clear the high, arched windows. But Aphrodite was too quick for him.

“Oh. And I can’t very well send you into the mortal world with those.” She snapped her fingers and Cupid’s wings disappeared in a shower of peach rose petals. “You might get picked on.”

“Mo-om!!!”

Cupid took a deep breath in preparation for a launch into full-throttle whine mode, when the front doors burst open.

“Ow--ow--ow--ow--ow--ow....”

Ares strode into the room like a sleek, black panther, dragging a recalcitrant Strife by the ear behind him.

“What was so important that I had to come and see you *right now,* Aphrodite?” he demanded. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of managing my useless employees?”

“Right,” purred Aphrodite. “Gnarly coaching skills.”

“I told this dunce to keep an eye on King Beraeus and he lets Hercules kill him.”

“Butchya didn’t *say* nothin’ ‘bout defendin’ him!”

Ares jerked his hand quickly away from Strife’s ear, leaving Strife clasping it painfully to his head.

“Say, Bro,” Aphrodite said silkily, easing her inviting body up against Ares’ well-muscled chest. “I felt the nasty frustration vibe rolling off of you from here, and I thought we might be able to kill two birds with one stone.”

Ares stared at her a moment, and then nodded. “Killing is good.”

“I’m clipping our Cupie’s wings until he can prove to me that he’s ready to act like a grownup. But I don’t want to throw him out into the big, bad world totally naked and vulnerable. So how ‘bout it? Let Strife win your good graces back by keeping tabs on Cupid so he doesn’t come to any harm?”

Ares raised one striking, black eyebrow and fixed his chocolatey eyes on Strife. “You’d trust him with our son?”

“You have a point, there,” she remarked dryly.

Ares folded his broad, strong hand over a silver medallion around his neck set with a single, perfect, blood-red ruby. “I’m willing to give that moron one more chance, but not without a little backup.” A flash of bright, godly power surrounded the pendant, and Ares held it out to Cupid. “This is only for an emergency. Touch it and say my name, and I’ll come bail you out. But if you do that, it’ll negate the whole punishment, and you’ll have to start all over again.”

Aphrodite nodded sagely. “Only the second time you’ll need to make *two* couples fall in love. Get it?”

“Got it,” Cupid said sourly, slipping the red-stoned pendant over his head.

^*^*^*^*^*^

Candace
Cupid's Wing Groomer
Avid Admirer of Strife's Cerulean Eyes
& Supporter of Aphrodite's Heaving Bosoms

www.candace1.com/fugue
 

Title: Pair of Fools 2/31

Author: Candace and Erin, Goddesses of Fanfic

Part 2 Author: Erin

Fandom: HtLJ-X:WP

Pairing: Hints of C/S, more coming soon!!! *snerk*

Summary: When Strife is volunteered to help out Cupid, he's got his own reasons for not wanting to tag along.

Archive: Erin's House-O-Fanfic, Fugue, our LJs, RCoS

Feedback: If you don't send feedback I'll never write again and you'll all be miserable without me!!!!!!!

Rating: just PG this part, but it'll get real hot soon!!!!

Disclaimer: No job, no car, don't even own the house I live in. Still wanna sue? Give it your best shot and I'll just sit here and laugh. But I don't own these guys and I'm just having fun so why would u want to b so meen and su anyway?

=======
Pair of Fools
Part 2
=========

Strife wasn't sure what to say at first. One second he'd been watching 'Dite and Unk Ares banter back and forth, tossing quips like overripe peaches, and the next the brown-eyed senior god was volunteering him for some whacked out mission the Mischief God didn't even understand.

"*Hey*, hold up a sec!" Strife said, crossing his arms and glaring. "Noone eva asked *me* if *I* wanted ta do dis!" And he *so* didn't want to do this!

The back of Ares' hand smacking him in the head sent Strife staggering backwards, rubbing his head with a wince.

"You'll do what I *tell* you to, if you know what's *good* for you!!" Ares snapped, his voice rumbling deeply.

"Yea, yea, what*eva*." Strife glared at him, blue eyes narrowing. "So why d'I gotta shadow Feathas here? He *c'n* take care a hisself."

"Yea!!" Cupid picked up on it, crossing his muscular arms over his tanned and muscular chest. "I don't care if I *am* mortal-like, Mom, I good on my own."

"*See*!" Strife nodded in agreement. "Cupe's just fine on--hey, *wait* a sec! *Mortal*?!! Noone eva said *nothin'* 'bout bein' mortal!!! Ya're not gonna do me like *dat*, are ya, Unk?!" he whinged, turning wide blue eyes on his dark haired uncle.

Ares just smirked, a really unpleasant look on him. "Oh, did I forget to mention that part, Strife? You're gonna help your cousin and look after him, *and* you're gonna do it *without* your powers!"

Strife's jaw dropped and he was speechless. But. This couldn't happen! He *couldn't* get stuck with Cupe, even *with* their powers it would be bad enough, but how in Hades was he supposed to keep his cousin from knowing he *liked* him when they were both *powerless*?!?!

The God of Mischief had made a career out of being the most bad-ass god on Olympus, or at least he'd tried, so it would totally ruin his rep if Cupid found out Strife was lusting after him in a major way. That muscular body, that tanned skin, those totally hazel eyes; how could Strife *not* have lusted? And those wings.the Mischief God had so many fantasies about those wings -- which weren't there.

Strife narrowed his blue eyes, staring at Cupid who was doing a mean sulk over there. "Hey, Blondie; where's your wings?"

That got him a glare from his blond cousin whose full lower lip was stuck out in a fetching pout -- Strife was just going to pretend that didn't turn him on. "Mom yanked 'em. Says I gotta learn some bogus 'lesson.'"

"What 'lesson?'" Strife looked at Dite. "'N how 'm I s'pposed ta help 'im?"

"Not that I think *you* can *help* anyone, Strife," the long haired, blond goddess said with a delicate snort, "but Cupie has to make a couple fall in love--*true love*--without his magical items, and without his powers. That goes for you both now."

"O, izzat all?" Strife grinned at Cupe. "Ya c'n do dat, no *prob*, right, Feathas?"

Cupid just continued to glare and pout. "It's not possible, *not* without my powers."

The Mischief God snorted. "O *puleeze*. Mortals do tha love thing *all* tha time withoutchya. Ya c'n pull it off without yer powers."

"What do *you* know 'bout love, Strife?" the Love God said sullenly.

"That's what *I* wanna know." Aphrodite said, staring at Strife suspiciously, her delicate arms crossed over her heaving bosom.

He shrugged. "I just know 'bout breakin' it up; c'n't be all *dat* hard ta put togetha, ya know? Dat's why ya don't *need* me, see? Love-boy c'n just go do his thin' *all* by hisself, and I c'n just--" Strife stopped speaking when he caught the look in Ares' mud brown eyes. That wasn't an expression that meant anything good was going to happen. The Mischief God knew his ass was in some serious shit after that screw-up with Beraeus -- and that *so* wasn't his fault -- and if he didn't take advantage now, Ares would lay the smack-down on him big time. He didn't have any other choice here.

"Like I was sayin'," he said with a lopsided smile, "I'm gonna stick ta Feather--er--Featherless-Boy here, 'n make sure *nothin'* happens ta 'im. I'll make ya proud, Unk."

"I'll settle for you just doing something *right* for a change," Ares growled.

"Hey, I'm tha god fer tha job." Strife grinned wider and just hoped he didn't screw this up like everything else. Maybe the fates would be kind and he wouldn't trip over his tongue too much whenever he stared at his gorgeous blond, buff cousin.

*******

Erin
Keeper of Ares' virginity and of Strife's porcelain skin
Admirer of Auto's ego

Erin's House-O-Fanfic
http://www.slashaholics.org/erin/warning.html
 

Title: Pair of Fools 3/31

Authors: Erin and Candace, P0rno Purveyors

Part 3 Author: Candace

Fandom: HtLJ/XWP

Pairing: Still none. Please anticipate.

Summary: Joxer learned a card trick from Salmoneous that he's using for some high-stakes wagering

Archive: Erin's House O' Fanfic, Fugue, RCoS

Feedback: It's my air, my water, my lover and my child.

Rating: This part, G. NC-17 eventually

Warnings: a glittery, bare chest is about as bad as this part gets

Disclaimer: Please do not sue me or I'll stick you with the creepy albino catfish I inherited from my father-in-law.

?§?§?§?§?§?
PAIR OF FOOLS
Part 3
?§?§?§?§?§?

Soft brown eyes bright with anticipation, Joxer shuffled the three face-down cards on the colorful saddle blanket he’d laid down on the forest floor for just that purpose. “Okay, Xena. Keep your eyes peeled. Round and round and round she goes, where she stops, nobody knows.” He wove his hands in the complicated, exacting pattern he’d paid Salmonius five whole dinars to teach him. “Show me the queen,” he said expectantly.

Xena blinked her ice-blue eyes slowly, and then pointed.

“Hah,” said Joxer, flipping the card over triumphantly. “What you picked was actually...uh...” he lowered his voice. “The queen,” he mumbled.

“Come *on,* Joxer,” hissed Gabrielle in annoyance. “Obviously, Xena knows that trick. Would you give it a rest?”

“Okay, okay, okay. One more time.” Joxer shuffled the cards. “Round and round and round she goes....”

“My staff’s gonna go round and round in one more minute,” Gabby muttered angrily.

Joxer laid out the cards, then thought for a moment and switched two of them. “I think you’ll find yourself stumped this time.”

Xena considered the three cards.

“Wanna bet?” scoffed Gabs.

“Why, them’s fighting words, little missy,” said Joxer. “I’ll take your bet. What’s the wager?”

Gabrielle got quiet for a minute and twirled the end of her long, blonde hair. “Well, if Xena gets the card right, you have to leave us alone for...a week. At least.”

“Harsh,” said Joxer. “But no sweat. Because I’ve perfected my method. And when Xena here guesses wrong, as I’m sure she will, I’ll take my payment.”

“Which is?”

“A small favor. No big hardship.”

Gabby eyed Joxer suspiciously. “Right. I’m just gonna take a bet for some unnamed risk.”

Xena rolled her eyes and flipped the queen over. “Don’t worry, Gabrielle,” she said in her husky, yet feminine voice. “Just pack up your bedroll.”

Joxer stared at the cards, mouth working, while the women packed up their gear. “No hard feelings, Joxer,” said Gabrielle. “We just need a little girl-time.”

“Oh yeah. Sure. I can tell when I’m not wanted.”

Xena slung her saddlebag over Argo, tightening the leather straps. “We’ll be in the marketplace in Megara in one week.” The proud female warrior swung into the saddle, clutching Argo between her sleek, muscular thighs.

Gabbie approached Joxer. He cringed in anticipation of a nose-twist. But instead the blonde bard petted Joxer sweetly on the cheek as she strode away behind Argo, swinging her fancy staff and whistling a little out of tune.

“Fine,” Joxer averred as the pair marched off, disappearing around a bend in the road. “Just fine.” He knuckled a hot tear from his eye as he screwed up his face, trying to drive back the sting of tears. He’d just wanted one single, little kiss. Was that so much to ask?

Joxer stood and stared at the spot where they’d disappeared, sniffing only slightly. The cloud of dust that Argo kicked up with her hooves settled on the wannabe warrior’s boots, and he stood. And stared.

A single tear escaped the corner of his eye, rolled down his pale cheek, and fell to the ground, absorbed soundlessly by the dun-colored dust of the road.

The tear was long-gone and his cheek now dry when another pair emerged from the spot where the warrior women had vanished. They were two young men, about the same height, one tanned and blonde and barechested, one pale and raven-haired and covered head to toe in a nifty black leather outfit. They talked together urgently, the midnight-tressed one waving his arms around in a lot of complicated patterns as they did so.

Joxer’s heart leapt when he realized the men approaching him were not men, but rather gods. The Gods of Love and Mischief, to be precise.

“Hi,” Joxer chirped, his expression jubilant, as they approached.

For gods, they looked strangely weary and annoyed. They split apart as they drew abreast of him, one passing him on either side, then drew back together once they’d passed him. Cupid muttered, “Hey,” in reply, but then continued his urgently hushed discussion with Strife.

“Um, hey, guys?” said Joxer as the pair began making their way down the road. “Don’t you want to stop and rest for a minute? Take a load off?”

The young gods glanced at each other. “We’re not really tired,” Cupid said. “Yet.”

“Are you sure? I have, uh....” Joxer mentally rifled through his belongings. “I have apples!”

The two sleek young gods bent their heads together and whispered. They straightened, and lay two searing glances on Joxer--one ice-blue, and one a green-tinged hazel. “All right,” said the slightly scruffy blond man. “We’ll take some apples.”

Joxer reached into his sack and withdrew some apples, finding the best, roundest, least-bruised ones for the two gods. “So,” he asked happily. “Going to Zebron for the royal wedding?”

Strife smacked his forehead with his palm. “I *thought* this road looked familiuh!!!”

Cupid crunched into his apple, looking at it thoughtfully. “A wedding, huh? That might be something to check into.”

Joxer’s heart leapt at the thought of acquiring two new and interesting traveling companions--gods. He could be a sidekick to the gods. How thrilling! “Really? You like weddings?”

“They’re in my line of work,” said Cupid.

“Oh,” Joxer murmured. And he wondered where Cupid’s wings were. And his bow and arrows, for that matter. But he thought it would be impolite to ask, so he didn’t.

“I don’t think this’ll be quite the weddin’ you’re lookin’ for,” said Strife. “The bridegroom--he got a nasty case o’ death.”

“Oh,” said the tow-haired, sparkly young god, sadly. “And so many couples meet at their friends’ weddings. That’s such a shame.”

“Well, uh, he was a king, right?” Joxer asked, grasping for a way to remain with his new companions. “Maybe, uh, you could comfort the mortals at his funeral?”

The hazel-eyed blond god shook his head. “It’s just not the same.”

“Well, um. I don’t have to go to Zebron, then,” said Joxer quickly. “If there’s no wedding after all.”

“Suit yerself,” said Strife, steering Cupid away from Joxer by the gauntlet.

Joxer scampered behind them. “I really think we should stick together, don’t you? In case of marauders? You know how a king’s death can plunge a whole region into civil unrest.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” said Strife.

“No,” called Joxer urgently. “Wait.”

The two young godlings turned toward him. Strife crossed his arms and tapped his toe; Cupid planted his hands on his hips.

“I--uh. I got a bet for you.”

Strife smiled slowly. It was kind of a mocking grin, but that was okay. It wasn’t like Joxer was unused to people snickering about him. “Wha’ kinda bet?”

Joxer took a few backwards steps onto his brightly colored blanket, and picked up his three cards, showing them to the pair of young men.

“A queen and her pair of fools. See?”

Cupid nodded.

“Well, I’ll mix up the cards right in front of you. Bet you can’t find the queen. If not, then you take me with you.”

“Why should we take ya on?” asked Strife. “Whatchoo got tha’ we wan’?”

Joxer looked around at his gear. “Well, I’ll give you my other apples.” Cupid looked unimpressed by his offer. In fact, they were both turning to go. “And my shirt,” Joxer piped in. “My spare shirt.”

The pair of young men eyed each other.

“You...probably don’t own one,” he added helpfully. “Since you usually have wings on.”

Strife stepped forward cockily. “And yer hat.”

“My hat? But I made this hat. I love this hat!”

The ghostly young god smiled thinly. “Eithah ya throw in th’ hat, or iss no deal!”

Joxer steeled himself with a deep, replenishing breath. “Okay, fine. And the hat.”

“Okey-dokey, then!” said Strife. “Show me whatcha got!”

Joxer placed the queen face-down on the blanket between her pair of fools, and remembered the complicated pattern that Sal had shown him. He plucked each card and moved it, and moved it again, creating a hypnotic flurry of motion with his hands. “Round and round and round she goes. Where she stops, nobody knows.” Joxer paused, hoping he’d gotten it right. Well, it was all or nothing. His hat was on the line. “Show me the queen!”

The alabaster-skinned god in leather smiled until his eyes crinkled into slits. “Sorry to do this to ya,” he said, putting his finger down on the center card.

Joxer swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing against the top edge of his chestplate. He wondered if Strife would use his god-powers to cheat. But that didn’t make sense. If he wanted to play dirty, he could just hit Joxer with a blast of power and *take* the darn hat.

Joxer turned the card on the right. Red fool.

Cupid smiled.

Joxer placed his hand on the left-hand card. “You’re sure?” he prompted.

“Juss tern tha caird,” said Strife.

Biting his lip and holding his breath, Joxer tremblingly turned the remaining card. The queen winked up at him.

“Good going,” Cupid chuckled. “You let Joxer the Mighty pull one over on you.”

?§?§?§?§?§?

Candace
High Priestess of the Temple of Mischief
Buffer of Cupid's Pectorals
Joxer's Dietary and Fashion Adviser

www.candace1.com/fugue
 

Title: Pair of Fools 4/31

Authors: Candace and Erin, bestest writers in the hole fandom.

Part 4 Author: Erin

Fandom: HtLJ & X:WP

Pairing: More hints of C/S

Summary: Feeling he's not good enough for Cupid, Strife does some self-reflection.

Archive: Candace's Fugue, my site, our LJ's, RCoS

Feedback: If you reeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaallly love me, you'll send me all the feedback your email program will allow.

Rating: PG this trip, but lurrrve is in the air.

Warnings: Just a few naughty words.

Disclaimer: If you sue, all you'll get is the collection of new and interesting fungi developing in my fridge.

=+=+=+=+
pair of fools
part 4
=+=+=+=+=+

Strife snarled to himself, gritting his teeth against the...inundation of babble coming from the two seated on the other side of the campfire. Joxer...never shut up. Made a great pair with Cupid though...cause his blond haired, tanned cousin wasn't exactly Mr. Stoic Silence either. The two of them were chatting away like...old friends. Which they...kind of were, actually.

"You know...I really wouldn’t mind if you took my spare shirt anyway, even though I won the bet,” Joxer was saying in that nasal voice of his...that was perfect for making the Mischief God's skin crawl. "I mean...the last...couple times I saw you...you had the wings and now...you don't have them! Isn't that...*weird*? But...I guess you know that because...it's you that doesn't have them."

"Hey...that’s cool of ya, dude," Cupid drawled, slapping the mortal on the back...and nearly sending him sprawling into the campfire. Not nearly enough...for Strife's taste. Did Cupe *have* to touch Joxer...*all* the time?! "Mom clipped 'em and my powers...but that’s okay. We’re...right on the road to gettin’ em back," the Love God said with a smile. "It's just...so awesome that we walked right into someone I know...isn't it, cuz?" He looked at Strife.

The Mischief God bared his teeth in an expression that might possibly be mistaken for a smile...in dim light, if you squinted. "Oh yea," he snarled, "I'm like, so totally...jazzed dat I got ta spend tha last few houas listenin' ta you two...yappin' your mouths. Made my...millennium."

The sarcasm seemed to fly right over the mortal's head as...Joxer just grinned broadly, but Cupid...sent him a pointed glare, not missing a trick. "It's a big...lonely world out here all by our...lonesomes," the Love God said pointedly, draping an arm over the mortal's shoulders. "Company...is always a good thing."

*That* did it. Strife...was on his feet in an instant, growling back in his throat. "Yea, 'n I can see dat *my* company just...ain't up ta your standards, *cuz*," he hissed...then turned on his heel and stomped away from the camp.

The God of Mischief...wasn't a fool -- a fool for love, maybe, 'cause this totally sucked -- but not a fool in general. He wasn't gonna go...wandering off into the darkness of the trees surrounding him, not when he was semi-mortal and could possibly fall and break something...or some wild animal could drag him off...or maybe bandits -- and maybe leaving camp wasn't a good idea *at all*. Peering through the darkness suspiciously...with more than a little trepidation, Strife fidgeted. He was still too pissed off to go back though. It was bad enough...knowing Cupe was all over that mortal like flies on shit, the Mischief God didn't need to see it as well. He couldn't stop listening though...hearing the low murmur of voices continue behind him and it wasn't a surprise. They were probably...glad to have him out of the way.

"Yea...who needs Mischief fuckin' up their lives?" he muttered to himself. Not his blond, buff cousin, that was for sure. Cupid had never...paid attention to him before and why would he now? Strife wasn't the best catch...although, he'd really thought he was better than *Joxer*. Not just a mere mortal, but a total moron too! And the God of Love...preferred *that* to *him*?! Talk about hitting a major low.

Strife felt the hot prickle of tears in his eyes...and quickly dashed them away with the back of his hand...then wiped his nose on his sleeve, sniffing. Why was he making such a big deal out of it? He'd...always known he didn't have a chance with his blond haired, hazel-eyed cousin. So...what if he'd had a few fantasies over the years, marriage, kids, the whole thing; he'd always known...it wasn't ever gonna happen. But it still hurt to hear the God of Love and the mortal...laughing it up behind him. Probably laughing at him...'cause now that he was almost mortal too, what could he do about it?

More tears welled up...and this time he didn't push them away. Crossing his arms, hugging himself, he just...let the hot drops trickle down his sallow cheeks. Okay, so...he was skinny and pale and had no fashion sense, but how was Joxer any better? Was it because the mortal was...technically one of the "good guys?" It wasn't like Strife was all that bad, was he? Okay, so maybe he did bad stuff, but...he screwed it up mostly, right? So...that couldn't make him totally bad. He...did what Ares told him; it wasn't like he had a choice, right? He...He could be good...if he tried...if he wanted to...if it would make Cupid look at him. He...He...could be...a different god.

That was it!! He'd tell Ares whatever the War God wanted to hear...but from now on the God of Mischief was a changed god! It...wasn't like the whole bad-ass business was working out for him, so...he'd give the other side a try. He could be good...the best! And then...his beautiful, blond, buff cousin would want him! He could be...the God of Peace! Yea! Or...maybe...the God of Leisure! Oh, hey! He had it!!! The God of Happiness! YES!!!! That was it!

"Why not?" Strife murmured to himself...rubbing away tears. "I always kinda liked bunnies an' kids an' all that otha crap." Now he just had to go prove to Cupe...that he was gonna be a new god.

At that moment...the Love God's voice rang out clearly behind him. "Hey! Long time no see, Uncle Herk!"

"Aw, fuck," Strife snarled sullenly.

-------

Erin
Sex slave to the God of Mischief
Bard to the gods.
Polisher of Ares' sword. Both of them.

Erin's House-O-Fanfic
http://www.slashaholics.org/erin/warning.html

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Title: Pair of Fools 5/31

Authors: Erin and Candace, Queens of Queer

Part 5 Author: Candace

Fandom: HtLJ/XWP

Pairing: Deimos/Phobos implied

Summary: Strife has an epiphany and realizes that he has no name; he's understandably distressed.

Archive: Erin's House O' Fanfic, Fugue, RCoS

Feedback: It's more than that thing that happens when I lean a guitar against an amp

Rating: PG for mild lewdness

Warnings: Well, the word "dick" appears. Both here *and* in the story. Implied twincest.

Disclaimer: My may cat fart on you if you try to sue me.
 

?§?§?§?§?§?
PAIR OF FOOLS
Part 5
?§?§?§?§?§?
 

Cupid leapt to his feet, teetering a little because he usually balanced with his wings...and his wings were gone. Pesky. He hoped his Uncle Hercules wouldn’t make a big deal out of the way he was being punished. Because Hercules was the best of the best, a bastion of goodness. And he liked everyone else to be good, too. And to lecture them when they weren’t.

Not that Cupid was actually bad. There was a big difference between being evil and being naughty. Take Strife, for instance. Naughty. Really naughty. In fact, being sent off to the middle of nowhere with Strife--or the middle of the mortal world, whatever--really wasn’t much of a punishment at all. Not with Strife.

Speaking of which, where was the God of Mischief? He was just across the fire moments earlier, when Cupid was trying to hint to him that Joxer would be their perfect love-subject. But, no matter. Because Uncle Herc approached the fire. And the one Cupid *really* wanted to see, the Golden Hunter, was not far behind.

“Cupid?” queried Hercules, firelight flickering off his sapphire blue orbs. “Is that you?!?”

“So *that’s* the God of Love?” Iolaus exclaimed. “I thought he’d be taller.”

“Yeah, Uncle Herc, it’s me. Just gathering a little life experience. Sans wings. Total drag.”

Joxer clambered to his feet in a series of clanks and clunks. “Wow. Huh-Hercules. Fancy meeting you here. And Iolaus. Hercules’ best friend.”

Cupid looked from the Golden Hunter, to the Wannabe-Warrior, to his strappingly heroic Uncle. Three hot hunks in their prime. Surely two of them would oblige him and fall in love, and then he could get his wings back.

But what if Strife were to leave him the moment Aphrodite returned his wings? Hm, Cupid hadn’t thought of that. He decided he’d study the trio of virile warriors carefully and not rush anything. After all, true love took time to germinate.

Still, he’d have to start setting the mood. Cupid visualized a field of softly glowing, snowy-white candles. A silky tablecloth scattered with chocolates, caviar, and freshly chilled oysters. A single, pristine feather and a perfect long-stemmed rose. He willed the props into being, but nothing happened.

And then he remembered he was mortal.

Iolaus approached Cupid, tilting his head. “Whatcha doin’? Thinking awful hard, there, aren’t ya?”

“Nothin’,” Cupid muttered, wandering into the trees.

“Huh,” said Iolaus. “That’s weird.”

“So what’re you guys doing?” Joxer inquired.

“We’re on our way back from Zebron.”

Joxer motioned for them to sit, and they did. He sat, too. “Funeral?”

“Nope,” said Iolaus. “Wedding.” He picked up one of Joxer’s packs and found an apple. “Got any more food?” he said around a mouthful of partially chewed Granny Smith.

“Wedding?!? But I thought the bridegroom was dead!?!”

“You’re thinking of King Beraeus,” corrected Hercules patiently. “He’s dead.”

“Yeah,” said Iolaus, inadvertently spitting little globs of half-chewed apple into the fire, where they hissed slightly. “Said a bunch of really dirty stuff and then impaled himself on his own spiked shield.”

“Iolaus,” warned Hercules. “Beraeus was our friend once. Show a little respect.”

“Oh. Oh, right.” Iolaus finished the apple, tossed the core into the fire and rifled through Joxer’s pack some more.

“So...who got married?”

Hercules stared into the dancing flames. “Our old friend Tarlus. And Ramina.”

“Ramina?!?” Joxer cried. “But wasn’t she going to be queen?? And she just married some other guy after King Beraeus impaled himself??? On his own *shield*???”

“Love works in mysterious ways,” said Iolaus, draining the Wannabe-Warrior’s waterskin in a few hearty gulps.

§6§6§6§6§6§6§

Cupid eased his graceful, though wingless, and well-muscled body through the stand of tender, young saplings. He thought he’d seen Strife go in that general direction. It was hard to see outside at night without his powers, and the Once-God of Love had to be especially careful not to stub his toe.

He came upon his moonlight-pale cousin, pale in the moonlight, sitting thoughtfully on a tree stump. Thinking.

“Hey, ‘Cuz,” said Cupid. “Why’d ya wander away from the fire? It’s a little chilly out now that our *powers* are on the fritz. Don’t ya think?” Cupid hadn’t put on that silly shirt that Joxer kept offering him, because how could he seduce Strife if he was wearing a shirt?

But Strife wasn’t looking at him. Mischief Personified was staring down at his hands.

“Ah bin thankin’.”

Cupid circled ‘round to Strife’s front, so his glittery, well-muscled pecs would be the first thing the War Godling would see, should he look up. “Yea?”

Strife did look up, but not at Cupid’s perfectly sculpted chest with its proud, tanned nipples. He looked instead into Cupid’s fathomless hazel eyes. Strife’s own eyes, the palest azure, sparkled with unshed tears in the silvery moonlight. “Ahm not really fit ta *call* mahself a War God.”

Cupid considered his mournful cousin. “Well, *neither* one of us has powers right now. But I don’t think we need to *worry* about that. All we have to do is make a couple of fools fall in love, and things’ll be back to normal.”

“Yore not hairin’ me,” murmured the thinner god. “It’s not the Godliness that’s a problem. It’s th’ War.”

Cupid gazed down into his svelte cousin’s cerulean spheres and quirked a quizzical brow. “I don’t know what you mean?” he queried.

“Look!” Strife cried, springing to his feet. “Yore the God of Love. But we don’t *call* you Love. We call you Cupid. That’s yore name.”

“O-kay.”

“But whut about *me*? Whut about *my needs*? Ahm the *God* of *Strife*. But ah don’t have a *name.*”

Cupid would have stammered, but he had no idea what to even attempt to say.

“And then--here’s the really *wired* part--ahm not even a *god* right now.”

“But...it’s *temporary.*”

Strife waggled his delicately tapering finger at Cupid. “But still. No powers. No godhood.” He nodded sagely. “No *Strife.*”

Cupid’s mouth worked. “So what are you saying?”

“Just what ah said. There *is* no Strife.”

Cupid threw his arms in the air. He’d been so looking forward to seducing his moderately-wicked cousin and rolling around like a pair of woodchucks in heat. But instead he found Strife in the midst of an identity crisis. He’d had it. “Okay, fine. There *is* no Strife. So now what?”

Strife paused, turning his moon-pale face up toward night’s sphere. “Call me...Bob.”

Cupid’s stomach sank as he realized that Strife was perfectly serious. And then the bushes behind Strife rustled, and a pair of laughing shrieks with an edge like a air-raid siren sounded in eerie harmony. One platinum blond head popped forth from the bushes, and then another.

“Bob!” cried the first one. “That’s great!”

“Yea!” echoed the second. “That’s what Deimos’ head does on my dick all night long!”

The Twins of Terror disappeared back into the bushes, their cackling laugh oozing through the night like a backed-up sewer.

“Oh, super,” said Cupid. “Now Deimos and Phobos are here.”

?§?§?§?§?§?

Candace
Keeper of Deimos' Fringes
Zebron's unofficial Tour Guide
www.candace1.com/fugue
 

Title: Pair of Fools 6/31

Authors: Candace and Erin, Bards of Badness--er, Badassness

Part 6 Author: Erin

Fandom: HtLJ-X:WP

Pairing: implied Aphrodite/Discord

Summary: Discord's not happy with what Aphrodite and Ares did to her baby.

Archive: Candace's Fugue, Erin's House-O-Fanfic, our LJ's, RCoS

Feedback: Give it to me baby, uh-huh, uh-huh

Rating: PG, maybe PG-13 for some tit references

Warnings: Um...a little bit of bouncing breasts

Disclaimer: Sue if you want; you can have this nice bag of crap I just cleaned out of the catbox.

{}-{}-{}-{}-{}
pair of fools
part 6
{}-{}-{}-{}-{}

Aphrodite was in the midst of perfecting her perfectly pink polish -- two shades always made her nails glisten -- when the crash of the temple doors crashing open made her drop the bottle with a resounding crash. She shrieked -- a high-pitched, ear-splitting yet delicate sound -- as the polish splattered all over her long, luscious legs, flecks of pink spattering her supple, smooth skin. Fortunately she was only wearing her lacy unmentionables, so she didn't have a dress to be ruined. Still though, it would be a real bitch getting that stuff off her skin without drying out her skin, which wasn't to be tolerated.

"Someone better have a *TOTALLY* cool excuse for making me drop this!" she bellowed in an entirely feminine manner as she stepped away from shards of broken glass. A wave of one pink nail tipped hand had the mess cleaned up, but it was still on her legs and she wrinkled her nose in discontentment.

"You BITCH!!!!" The snarled accusation was all the warning the busty blond goddess got before a bundle of sharp nails, bared teeth, black hair and black leather hurtled itself at her from the doorway.

"Hey! What's your damage?!?" the Love Goddess demanded as she threw up her hands to defend herself, averting her face so those daggers masquerading, as nails couldn't scratch one of her best features. Not that all of her wasn't her best feature, in fact she'd have to end this before her breasts were punctured. Shoving hard, she shoved her attacker back.

Discord went tumbling back, falling hard on her butt with a wince. She glared up at her beautiful blond sister, baring her teeth and fighting back tears. "How could you do it, 'Dite?" she demanded with alot of anger.

The Goddess of Love rested her hands on her hips and narrowed her beautiful blue eyes. "Do what, oh Goddess of the Bad Fashion Sense?"

Discord had to stop herself from attacking again and this time the tears almost escaped. "You and that muscle-headed brother of ours sent my *baby* down to the mortal world without his powers!!!!" she yelled.

"What? Strife? Yea, so what?" Dite shrugged.

"He's just a *kid*, you stupid bitch!!" This time Discord didn't fight the impulse, diving forward and snagging the Love Goddess around the legs, yanking her down to the floor. "He's my *baby* and you two morons put him in */danger/*!!!!!" She threw herself up onto Aphrodite, trying to get a grip on the blue-eyed goddesses petit little neck. "He's just a helpless little boy!!!!!!!"

"*Strife*??!! *Helpless*???" Aphrodite fought Discord off, trying not to laugh at the same time because she was certain it would get her midnight-haired sister into even more of a tizzy. "That *boy* can *so* handle himself, sis! He’s like thirty years old, so chill! Besides, he's got my Cupie-doll looking out for him."

Snarling, Discord threw herself off her sister -- she couldn't get a good grip on the goddess anyway when the other woman was wiggling around like that. Too much smooth skin slick with some sort of oil. Did Dite moisturize? "Like I trust that air-head to look out for anythin' but his own ass -- and he can't find that half the time with a map, a mirror and both hands." She crossed her arms over her black leather-clad breasts and pouted, tears welling up again. "You don't get it, 'Dite; Strife is my *baby*! He's had me all these years. I'm always there for him to come to with a problem, a shoulder for him to cry on -- I *know* he hasn't been happy working for Ares, but I've been trying to help him. He's my little boy and I love him to pieces!" And this time a sob broke out.

Aphrodite frowned, annoyance melting away as she saw the pain and torment her brown-eyed sister was going through. "Oh, honey! Don't cry!" Instinctively she threw her arms around the other woman, pulling her close, pillowing her head on her breasts. "Didn't Arry tell you? He gave the boys an amulet they could use if they got their buns in a wringer."

"But it's not the *same*!!!!!!" Discord wailed, clutching at the blond woman's arms. "Strifie's always had me to turn to! I'm his mommy!"

"I know, I know." Dite patted her on the back comfortingly. "But we all gotta let go some day. Hey, I mean, you're like, doing *way* better than I did the first time I had to send Cupie out by himself. I *so* totally lost it. Made Arry impotent for a month for making me do it."

That got a reaction from Discord, she grinned and looked up at her sister through watery brown eyes, like deep pools of mud. "I remember that. Strifie was just a toddler and we had to stay away from bro the entire time. The only thing he could get up was his sword and he was swingin' that thing at anythin' that moved."

"See? You'll find a way to cope too. And Cupie was fine that time. Strife will be fine too with him this time."

Nodding, the raven-haired goddess sat up, sniffing delicately. "Your right. Sending my sweet baby boy was Ares' idea, right?"

"Yep," Aphrodite said with a smile, sensing an opportunity to get out of this.

"Good. I'll just go cut his balls off," Discord said brightly.

Ooops. "Um...that might be a *little* extreme, sweetie," the Love Goddess hedged. "Why don't you settle for something a bit less...permanent, like maybe dulling all his weapons or breaking them, or putting some itching powder in his codpiece?"

"Hmm...I *like* that one." Discord smirked, dashing tears away from her full yet petite and delicate pale cheeks.

"There ya go." Dite crossed her arms under her breasts triumphantly.

Discord's gaze was drawn to the bouncing bounty before her and she narrowed her brown eyes thoughtfully. Then she widened her wood brown eyes in surprised, wicked delight. "Hah! I knew it was true!" She hooked a finger in the lacy underthing barely covering Aphrodite's nearly naked nipples and pulled it outwards. "You *do* stuff your bra!"

The scandalized blond goddess smacked her dark-haired sister's hands away with an outraged shriek. "Oh!!! You little--!!!! If you *ever* tell anyone about this...!!!"

Discord leapt to her feet, smirking in delight. "Don't have to, sis; they already know!"

Aphrodite leapt to her feet too and took off after Discord who took off running. The two sisters, opposite in look and temperament, went running through the temple tossing insults and laughter at each other, getting along for perhaps one of the first times in their lives. Dite noticed that her nail polish had smudged on Discord's black leather, and couldn't help noticing that the combination was a pretty color on her sister, and that maybe it might be just as pretty on her bare skin. Discord, for her part, was more than a little interested in seeing the Love Goddess without the whole push-up effect -- but her lovely blond sister would have to catch her first.

-------

Erin
Keeper of Autolycus' grappling hook
Buffer of Discord's bountiful bodice

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Title: Pair of Fools 7/31

Authors: Erin and Candace, Scribes to the Gods

Part 7 Author: Candace

Fandom: HtLJ/XWP

Pairing: Herk/Iolaus discussed, Cupid/Strife anticipated, Deimos/Phobos actualized

Summary: All roads lead to Zebron.

Archive: Erin's House O' Fanfic, Candace's Fugue, RCoS

Feedback: I save it and use it to wallpaper my work area. Please send me more to cover these bald patches.

Rating: NC-17, hooray!

Warnings: Nipple observation and leg-humping. And twincest.

Disclaimer: I'm so sure everyone thinks I own these characters, but--surprise!--I don't. Yup. That's right. I don't own them. Shocking.

••••••••••••••••
PAIR OF FOOLS
Part 7
••••••••••••••••

“Aw, Strife,” Cupid said, wrapping his golden, muscular arms around his cousin. “I didn’t know you felt that way.

Strife stiffened. His mouth was pressed precariously close to one of Cupid’s nipples. One tiny brush of his tongue and he’d surely die and go to Elysium. But, no, he couldn’t. It was a familial hug he was getting. It gave him a wicked boner, though.

“Well, I do. An’ besides, if I keep on bein’ the God of Mischief, yall neva get two mortals togetha. An’ so I’m takin’ a little break from the War gig. In fact, I’m gonna try an’ help ya out.”

Cupid mashed Strife’s face into his glittering chest even harder. “Wow, Cuz. That’s so keen of ya.” Strife breathed in Cupid’s floral, yet masculine scent, reminiscent of melons and sea breezes.

“So... wha’d ya have in mind?” Strife queried.

Sadly, Cupid released Strife and took a few steps back, flexing his arms in a show of his perfect physique, all under the innocent guise of a stretch. “Well, first we came across Joxer.”

Strife could have sworn he heard a little snicker that went something like, “He said came!” but it was just under the threshold of his hearing, so he couldn’t be sure.

“And he’s just such an idealist,” Cupid went on, flexing. “I think he’d fall in love pretty easy--hard and fast.”

“Easy, hard and fast!”

Strife’s head whipped around. “I think the Brainless Blonds are still somewhere nearby, Cupe.”

Cupid made a fist and smacked it against his other palm a few times. “Well, my little brothers’ll clear out if they know what’s good for ‘em. ‘Cos when I get my arrows back, I’m liable to do something like make them fall in love. With other people.”

Strife heard a strangled “urk!” sound and the bushes rattled somewhere in the distance. “Good ‘nuff,” he said, satisfied. “So wha’s the plan?” He steepled his fingers evilly, and then remembered that he was trying not to be evil so that Cupid would like him. Disconcerted, he sat on his hands.

“Well, now Uncle Herk and Iolaus are here. There’s *gotta* be a chance that one of ‘em could fall in love with Jox.”

“Hm.” Strife stroked his chin. “Interesting. But flawed.”

Cupid’s face fell and he threw up his arms. “Whaddaya *mean??*”

“Think, Cupie, think!!! Herc an’ Iolaus. Friends, best friends. Through thick an’ thin. Eva since tha academy. Fighting togetha. Eating togetha.”

“...sleeping together,” Cupid finished. “Right. I dunno why I didn’t see it.”

“Theya *already* in love,” said Strife. “An’ so they don’t count.”

Cupid sighed sadly. “You’re right. Now what do we do?”

“Let’s just all head to Zebron,” Strife said helpfully. Well, not really. Zebron had to be pretty crazy at the moment, with its king’s corpse freshly cooling. But Cupid was right about Joxer--that mortal had stars in his eyes and “take me” written on his heart. So if Strife was going to get any quality time with Cupid, he’d have to stall Joxer’s impending romance for a little while.

And he wasn’t being evil, Strife reminded himself. Not at all. Just lengthening the, uh, drama. Yea, that’s right.

*****

Phobos cupped Deimos’ face between his trembling palms. He was so hard that it hurt, and he could barely stifle the nervous titter that threatened to erupt from between his lips. “Are you sure they can’t see us anymore?”

Deimos pressed forward and parted Phobos’ lips with his own, moaning. His twin’s tongue thrust into Phobos’ mouth and parried with his. Their identical faces parted, both gasping with passion. “Guess not. They must really be stripped of their powers.”

Phobos leaned his forehead against Deimos’. “You know, when Cupe said that, about the arrows?”

“Yeah?” Deimos grinned.

“I thought of you. Spread eagled on your face. And Apollo standing over you, haughty and hard. He tosses his blond hair back from his face and takes his long, hard cock in his hand, pumping it with oil. He sticks one oiled finger up into your ass and you moan into the sheets.”

Deimos pressed his groin into Phobos’ thigh and started humping his leg. “Go on, bro. Don’t stop!”

Phobos pressed a lick up Deimos’ cheek, and Deimos shivered. “He pumps you with his greasy finger, and you’re whimpering into the bed. And then...he adds another finger.”

“Oh, gods,” groaned Deimos, rubbing his crotch harder on Phobos’ leather-clad thigh. “Keep going!!”

Phobos caught Deimos’ nipple through his leathers and pinched it, tugging in time with Deimos’ humps. “He finds that sweet spot inside you, and he’s stroking, and stroking. He’s relentless. You’re so hard that it aches.”

“Got that right.”

“But he won’t let you touch yourself.” Phobos cupped Deimos’ ass and helped his brother ride his thigh. “You want him...” he pressed his face close and dropped his voice to a low growl. “To *fuck* you.”

“Ohmigod.”

Phobos felt a shiver work its way through Deimos’ body. He smiled in satisfaction. “Yeah, bro. You’re laying there facedown on Apollo’s bed with his fingers up your ass, and you’re going, ‘Fuck me, Apollo. Fuck me hard. Stick your hot, hard cock up my ass and fuck me till I cry.”

“Huuuhnn....” Deimos’ eyes started rolling back.

“And then, Deimie....”

“Yea?”

“And THEN....”

“C’mon, Phob!” Deimos thrust hard into Phobos’ hip. “Please!!”

“Apollo pulls his fingers out. And you feel so empty inside. But his hands are on your ass-cheeks and he’s kneading them like bread dough.”

Deimos’ grinding humps started picking up speed. “Yea? Yea?”

“The blanket under you is soaked from your leaking cock. And it’s starting to feel good, real good, rubbing on you, wet and just a little rough.”

Deimos clutched Phobos about the hips. “That’s how it feels in my shorts right now,” he whispered.

“Uh huh,” said Phobos, knowingly. “So Apollo’s got you by the ass. And it’s his ass, bro. His ass.”

Deimos made an inarticulate noise.

“And you’re ready for that big, blunt cockhead to shove its way inside you. But Apollo, he’s kinda laughing. And for a second you’re scared he’s just gonna leave you that way, and you hump the sheets harder.”

“Oh! Gods!”

“And then you feel it.”

Deimos stilled, quivering. “What?”

Phobos pressed his lips lovingly to the shell of Deimos’ ear. “He parts your ass and lays a hot, wet lick down your crack with his pretty pink tongue.”

“Aiiieeee!!!!”

Phobos twisted Deimos’ nipple hard while he bucked and screamed. Strife and Cupid were still talking so seriously in their low, grave tones. They must really have their powers clipped if they didn’t hear Deimos hollering out his orgasm to the world.

••••••••
Candace
Teller of Twin Tales

www.candace1.com/fugue
 

Title: Pair of Fools 8/31

Authors: Candace and Erin, Fanfic Divas

Part 8 author: Erin

Fandom: HtLJ - X:WP

Paring: Herk/Iolaus

Summary: Hercules to the rescue!

Archive: Candace's Fugue, Erin's House-O-Fanfic, our LJ's, RCoS

Feedback: Feed the ego....

Ratings: R

Warnings: Groping and snogging and hurling.

Disclaimer: Own them, I do not, but play with them, I do.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
PAIR OF FOOLS
PART 8
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

AN: *^=Hercules thoughts, //=Joxer's thoughts, /~=Iolaus' thoughts

"Iolaus sure has been gone a long time," Joxer grumbled as he looked through his nearly empty pack of food mournfully.

"Yea, this isn't like him," Hercules speculated suspiciously, peering around the outer rim of the camp into the deep darkness of the dense forest. "He knows how dangerous it is out there alone without me to protect him. The last time he wandered off, he stubbed his toe and cried for an hour."

"Well, he is the Golden Hunter," Joxer said with a shrug and a smile. "If he's half as good as I am at hunting and tracking, he'll be just fine!"

Herk rolled his eyes and continued peering out into the darkness, limpid blue eyes literally peeled in rapt attention, looking for any sign of his lovely Golden Hunter. Which really was a misnomer. Everyone assumed Iolaus had gotten the name by being the best tracker in the business, but it was really due to his incredibly shiny blond curls and bronzed skin. Iolaus was a feast for the demi-god's eyes and while Iolaus was a passable hunter, he really did need protecting. That was Hercules' job; he looked out for his best friend and lover, because they'd been in love from the day the demi-god had saved the mortal man from the snare he'd accidentally entangled himself in. It was perfect bliss between them. *^Iolaus is pretty, and I'm his protector!^* Herk thought proudly.

"Aiiieeee!!!!" The cry rang out through the night and a cold shiver went through the muscular demi-god.

"*Iolaus*!" he cried out in horror, just knowing that the cry had come from his lover and the mortal was in serious trouble. "Hold on, Iolaus! I'm coming, little buddy!!!!" He took off into the darkness, leaving Joxer alone in the camp, watching after him with a frown.

"I don't think that was Iolaus!" he called after the disappearing demigod distancing himself from the camp. But he didn't think Hercules had heard him. //Oh well,// he thought to himself with a shrug, //he guessed he'd just have to wait and hope that someone came back to keep him company soon.//

Iolaus heard the scream, but only because he was in between bouts of tossing his cookies. ~/He couldn't believe Joxer didn't warn him that too many green apples would do this before Iolaus had eaten them all./~

The scream was so horrible, like someone was being tortured and enjoying it, that it left the blond hunter trembling in fear, his once tanned skin turning pallid with fright. What if it was some sort of monster, something huge and *hungry*?!? Or...or worse! It could be another attack by Hera's men, come to carry off Herk's most important possession: Iolaus. He wasn't sure he could handle that again after the eighteen other times it'd happened before; he couldn't fight off armed men without his lover beside him!

Shaking in his boots, stomach still upset, Iolaus cowered amongst the bushes in abject terror. ~/He knew he never should've come out here all alone!!! Hercules always warned him but he never listened!!!/~ "Oh gods, find me, Herk, *save me*!!!!!!!" he sobbed in horrified presentiment.

Then he heard it, the crashing of bushes and trees as something large and lumbering crashed its way towards him. The horrified hunter's heart beat hard against his chest, pounding away in ever increasing dread as the noise approached him, nearer and nearer. He whimpered in abject terror, wishing, hoping against all hope that his heroic lover were there to shield him from whatever was coming to hurt him.

"*Iolaus*!! Answer me, honey!!!!!!!!"

The Golden Hunter gasped in shock and recognition, recognizing that sweet, beloved voice. "**##HERCULES###**!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OVER HERE!!!!!!!!!!" Iolaus yelled, hopping to his feet and waving his hands.

The crashing sound came closer but now Iolaus didn't quail in fright, knowing it to be his savior, his lover, his heroic Hercules. And then he was there. Hercules was standing in front of him, gasping for breathe, sky blue eyes wide with wild fear.

"Are you okay, Iolaus?!!??" he demanded lovingly.

Iolaus could only look at him and smile with all the love he held in his heart. "Now that you're here, Herk, I'll always be okay."

Their eyes met.

///Cause you are my fire

The one desire///

Hercules opened his arms and Iolaus rushed forward.

///Believe when I say

I want it that way///

They embraced, knowing they loved each other as they could never love another. Lips met, hands unfastened clothing.

///Am I your fire

Your one desire///

Tongues dueled; fingers traced patterns, lips locked.

///No matter the distance

I want you to know that

You are, you are, you are, you are///

Breaths became heated, skin became slick with sweat and pulses pounded.

///Tell me why,

Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby///

"I was so scared, so worried you'd never find me, Herk," Iolaus whispered as he kissed the demi-god passionately.

"I'll always be here for you, my sweet, Golden Hunter," Hercules murmured breathlessly, groping at his lover's pert buttocks. "Through thick and thin."

Suddenly Iolaus jerked away and began retching, all over Hercules boots. The demi-god looked down. "And through chunky."

///I want it that way///

-------
"I Want It That Way" by the Backstreet Boys

Erin
Keeper of Cupid's missing wings

Erin's House-O-Fanfic
http://www.slashaholics.org/erin/warning.html

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Title: Pair of Fools 9/31

Authors: Princess Erin and Princess Candace, Slash Royalty

Part 9 Author: Candace

Fandom: HtLJ-X:WP

Pairing: a bit of D/P

Summary: Our heroes inch toward Zebron with excruciating slowness

Archive: Candace's Fugue, Erin's House-O-Fanfic, our LJ's, RCoS

Feedback: I'll throw a big tantrum if I don't get some!

Rating: PG, maybe PG-13 for strange penis euphemisms

Warnings: See above. Penis euphemisms and some twin snogging.

Disclaimer: Repeat after me: Zebron is not real. Not. Real. And I don't own it. I just write about fictitious people doing strange things there.
 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
PAIR OF FOOLS
Part 9
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Joxer sat sadly by the fire, his three cards laid out on the blanket before him. Red fool. Black fool. Queen. He wondered which fool was him.

And then a pair of boots strode up to one side of him, silver studs gleaming in the firelight. An identical pair of boots approached his other side. He looked up into two faces, both the same. Like Strife, but blond. And smiling a lot more.

“Uh. Hello?”

“Oh, ain’t he darlin?” crowed one of them, folding his hands beside his face and tilting his head to one side. “Don’t ya just wanna eat ‘im up?”

The other one blinked several times and then scowled deeply. “But we haven’t any mustard!”

“True! Too true!!!”

The pair of brown-fringed beings joined hands over Joxer’s head and began capering a circle around him. Joxer snatched up his three cards before they were trod upon.

“Ring around the rosey!

Pocket full of posies!

Ashes!

Ashes!

We all fall down!” sang one.

The other one was busy saying “Duck, duck, duck, duck, duck....”

“Uhm. What are you doing?” asked Joxer, perplexed.

The twins released each others’ hands and tumbled to the ground on either side of him in symmetrical poses, chins on hands, elbows on the ground. “Tell me,” asked one. “How do you feel about love?”

“Love?” Joxer echoed.

“Yeah, love,” said the other, in exactly the same voice. “As in...gettin’ some!”

“As in...afternoon delight!”

“As in...makin’ with the bacon!”

“As in...the horizontal tango!”

“As in...feedin’ your banana to a happy gorilla!”

“As in...ew, Phobos. That’s kinda sick.”

“I know. Ain’t it, though?”

The twins stared at each other for a long moment, and then Joxer cleared his throat. “Ahem. What are you talking about?”

In perfect symmetry, the twins leapt into a predatory crouch, flanking Joxer. “What would you say if I told you your soulmate was out there looking for you?” Said one of them. Either one, it didn’t matter, since they were exactly the very same.

“Well, I ....”

“And what would you say,” the other one picked up, “if I told you the recently denuded God of Love was going to screw up your chances of getting together with the other half of your soul?”

The other twin finished. “All because it’s inconvenient for him to wait.”

Joxer felt heat rising to his flushed cheeks. “Well, I...I....”

“I’d be careful,” said one of the grinning blonds, waggling his finger in Joxer’s face. “Keep yourself...to yourself. If you know what I mean.”

“No, not really.”

As one, the twins sighed. “You know. Keep it in your pants.”

“Keep the salami in the deli.”

“Keep the torpedo in the bay.”

“Keep the cigar in the humidor.”

Joxer rolled his eyes. “Come on, gimme a break. I’ve been unlucky in love my whole life. What makes you think that’s gonna change anytime soon?”

Each blue-eyed blond edged toward Joxer’s front, and then edged over again, until they crouched before him together, touching at the thigh and shoulder. “Let’s just say we got access to information that you don’t,” said one of them.

“That’s right,” chimed in the other. “And we’d hate for you to make such a serious mistake.” They crossed arms and draped their palms over each others’ bare knee.

“I don’t see what you’re getting at,” said Joxer cluelessly.

“Don’t you?” murmured one twin, voice low and gravelly.

“If it were me,” said the other, “I’d wait...” The blonds turned toward each other in tandem and fell forward into a wet, openmouthed kiss.

Joxer cringed.

“....for the other half of my soul.”

The twins threw back their heads and let out a simultaneous peal of raucous laughter. And in a blue-green flash, they were gone.

“Wow,” said Joxer. “I wonder if they were gods?!?”

§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§

Cupid gazed at his alabaster-skinned cousin. A bit of Aphrodite’s glitter had smudged Strife’s cheek where Cupid and he had hugged. Cupid sighed, pretending that Strife was actually in love with him, and he would proudly wear that glitter as a badge of honor, and cherish it until they could really be...together.

But for now, Strife wanted to go to Zebron.

“Well, okay Str--uh, Bob. If that’s where you wanna go.”

“Aye, tha’s whar I be wantin’ ta go.”

Cupid sighed and stood, and held out his arm for Strife. Strife just eyed him warily. “What be so hot about Joxer, anyway? Shore, he be innocent, and trustin’, and ripe for the pickin’. But what’s to reel a suitor in?”

“Oh, come on, Str--Bob. He’s got a great smile. And wonderful eyes.”

Strife bared his teeth at Cupid. Cupid wondered why he was snarling, and vowed to do better at keeping Strife happy. And then Strife batted his eyelashes. Maybe he had a stray eyelash in his eye. Cupid shrugged and turned toward the distant camp.

The pair made their way back toward the campfire, where Joxer had his manhood in his hands and was examining it critically.

“All that *and* a two-foot schlong!” Strife cried out hoarsely.

Cupid gazed upon Joxer’s magnificent form. He looked embarrassed, yes, but it wasn’t as if he’d been masturbating. It was more like he was...meditating. “What’re you up to, Joxer?”

///heh heh, he said “up!”///

Strife looked around suspiciously.

“If a couple of identical guys you didn’t know told you to keep your pee-hole in your pants, would you do it?”

Cupid gazed at Joxer’s innocent mahogany eyes. “Is this a trick question?”

Joxer tucked his Little Joxer away. “Oh, never mind.”

Across the campfire, the undergrowth rustled. Stalks parted to reveal the mighty Hercules and his sidekick, the Golden Hunter. Who looked more green than gold, at the moment. Hercules was covered with a fine, glistening sheen of sweat, his lips were swollen, and his pupils were dilated. “Hi,” he said breathlessly. “Did we miss anything?”

“We’re going to Zebron,” announced Cupid, crossing his muscular arms over his enticingly bare chest.

“But we just *came* from Zebron!!” protested Iolaus.

///heh heh, he said “came!”///

“Do you hear something?” Strife asked no one in particular.

“Zebron!” exclaimed Joxer. “But we’ve already missed the wedding!”

“Well,” said Cupid testily, “that’s where we’re going. If you don’t wanna come with us...”

///he said “come with us!”///

“I *definitely* heard somethin’,” muttered Strife darkly.

“No! No.... Um, no,” said Joxer. “That’s okay. Zebron it is.”

*****

Candace
Secretary and Treasurer, Zebron Chamber of Commerce

www.candace1.com/fugue
 

Title: Pair of Fools 10/31

Authors: Candace and Erin, Priestesses of Purple Passion

Part 10 Author: Erin

Fandom: HtLJ - XWP

Pairing: Herc/Iolaus established, Cupid/Strife hinted at

Summary: Strife tries to make a change for the better and the truth about Ares is revealed, but Hercules is too stubborn to accept either.

Archive: Candace's Fugue, Erin's House-O-Fanfic, our LJ's, RCoS

Feedback: I will pry off my fingernails and sob in agony if you don't.

Rating: PG for this part.

Warnings: Just a bit of gross stuff.

Disclaimers: If I made money off of this, I'd be hiring a maid to do the housework instead of having to scrub things myself.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
PAIR OF FOOLS
PART 10
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

AN: `^=Strife's thoughts, //=Joxer's thoughts, ** (without "" marks)=whispering, ^^=emphasis

Zebron. Joxer was now wishing he'd never heard of the place. It was bad enough he *knew* he'd missed the wedding, but now he was stuck traveling there with a preaching Herk, a still-sick Iolaus, a wingless Cupid and the god formerly known as Strife. Normally he would've been totally thrilled to be traveling with such distinguished company, but not right now when everyone was acting so...odd.

It'd started last night when Strife had made his big announcement.

"Call me "Bob", tha God of Happiness!!!!" He beamed at the gathered company. "From now on I'm gonna be tha most nicest god youse eva seen!" He'd said.

"Umm...whatever works for ya, St-er--Bob," Joxer said with something resembling an uncertain yet encouraging smile.

Iolaus had looked like he wanted to say something but he threw up. Again.

Joxer wasn't sure what else to say, Cupid looked fondly indulgent, but then Hercules had jumped in and the demi-god didn't let anyone else get a word in after that.

"*##STRIFE#**!!!!!!!" the dour and determined demigod had demanded. "Iolaus, my beautiful bouncing buddy, is sick and it's all **you're** fault!!!!"

"Huh?" Strife said eloquently.

Joxer'd had to raise an eyebrow at that one, after having seen Iolaus consume the green apples like they were going out of fashion. Even Iolaus gave Hercules an odd look, in between retches.

"Your the God of Mischief and you'd like nothing better than to mess with me by using Iolaus!!!!" the brown haired, muscular demi-god had gone on bellowing.

"Whoa there, Unk Herk," the normally winged yet currently wingless and powerless God of Love said, holding up, large, manly hands. "Str--uh--Bob couldn'ta done anything to Blondie there, cuz he's been with me and he's as powerless as I am!"

"I don't believe it!" Hercules had announced, crossing his large arms over his muscular chest, glaring at the the once-godly cousins. "Strife and that whole side of the family have been after me since the Academy! They'd do *anything* to get to me so this is all a trick!!"

"Um, hello? If it was a trick, how come *I'm* powerless too?" Cupid had pointed out, but Herk wasn't listening.

"You've been tricked too, Cupid. In fact, **Ares** has to be behind this!! He always is and he's always after me. That warmongering bastard is worthless and evil and--"

"An' you're like so totally clueless!!" Strife had broken in with a heartbroken cry. "How can ya *say* dat 'bout Unk?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. `^How c'n Hercules 'ave 'is head stuck *dat* far up 'is rear?^` Strife had thought to himself. `^Don't he *get* how t'ings work?!?^` "Unk Ares *has* ta start wars, it's not like he *likes* it or nothin'!!! Don'tchya get dat? He does what Zeus' always tellin' him ta do 'cuz if he don't, Gramps'll beat tha crap outta 'im!!!!!!!!!!"

Hercules snorts in disbelief. "You're lying, Strife! I *know* my father! Zeus is a fair and just god, he'd *never* do anything like that! He's been maligned all his life by Ares and Hera!!!"

Four sets of eyes, three blue, one brown, rolled. Four minds wondered how Hercules could be *that* blind to his father's true character.

"Oh, c'mon, Herk," Iolaus had said, wiping his mouth with one trembling arm. "Even *I* know what a jerk Zeus is."

The dense demi-god glared darkly at his lover. "You don't know what you're saying, Iolaus. You're sick and you need me to take care of you. You'll see reason when you're better."

"Yea, I c'n see *dis* is gonna work out," Strife said sullenly, his lips sticking out in a pout.

Cupid fights the urge to lick that luscious lip and instead focused a fetching glare on his favorite Uncle. "Curly is right, Unk Herk, Gramps is one bad dude. Maybe Hera's got her problems but she adores all her children and tries to protect 'em, she just hasn't been able to help Dad all that much. And the God of War isn't so bad, really, I mean, he raised me."

"And brainwashed you!!!" Hercules had accused.

The blond, bare-chested blond rolled his eyes and sighed mightily. "Nooo, he loved me like a good father. He's really kind of sweet when he's not slaving away tryin' to be the Big Bad God of War, but Zeus' been trying to beat that outta him for years."

"**NO**," the demigod denied defensively. "I won't believe a word of these lies against my loving father!!!! Ares has a temple in Zebron; we'll all head there and I'll *prove* to you that he's an evil, manipulative homicidal maniac!!!"

And they'd all had to drop the subject before Hercules popped a vein. Fortunately Iolaus had threw up again on the demi-god's pants, so that provides a good distraction.

They'd all settled in for the night, Herk ensconcing Iolaus protectively in their own corner of the camp -- which everyone else was more than a little grateful for because the two men were starting to reek. Cupid and the god formerly known as Strife had settled in the opposite corner, each one making sure not to touch the other as they settled in, trying not to offend each other, certain that the other man wasn't at all interested in them. By the time Joxer had curled up in his lone, lonely corner for the night though, the two ex-gods were sound asleep, snoring, wrapped around each other. It was sweet to see, and fortunately Hercules had long since fallen asleep and didn't see it or he would've disrupted the adorable setting.

Cupid and Strife didn't snore loud, it was more like a gentle droning; it was Hercules who snored loud enough to wake the dead. Joxer made a mental note to avoid camping again with the demi-god like the plague. The sight of the Love God and former Mischief God cuddling in their sleep though had made Joxer's thought turn towards what Cupid and Strife said.

He'd always thought that there was something.off about Ares. Sure, Ares had always blown him off when they'd met, but now Joxer had an epiphany. //Ares is *covering*!!// Joxer had thought to himself. //He *has* to act all rude and tough in front of Xena otherwise she wouldn't take him seriously! But if Strife and Cupid were right, than Ares had to be so gosh darn *lonely* under that facade! Joxer suddenly pitied him.

Those mournful thoughts had kept Joxer awake most of the night, but he hadn't been alone. Through the loud droning of Hercules' snores, Iolaus' smothered voice had come squeaking from under Hercules' weight. **Help me! Can't breathe!** Hurl. **Air, need air!!!** Hurl. **Somebody get this overgrown camel off of me!!!** Hurl.

And somewhere in the distance Joxer had could've sworn he heard two similar voices giggling and moaning.

When the next day had dawned though, nothing had improved. Herk had continued his rant, Iolaus was still sick -- although now he was running for the bushes every five minutes complaining about both ends -- Cupid was still stoic and wingless and making calf eyes at Str--Bob, and the god formerly known as Strife was going on and on about how much he loved nature and how sweet and fluffy bunnies were. And so it'd gone for the last few miles.

"Ain't bunnies just tha **cutest*** wittle thingamabobs?" the former god cooed, holding the ball of fur in front of Cupid's face and batting his thick black eyelashes. Hopefully the Love God would equate cute with him and fall all over him trying to make out.

Cupid tried to smile back, although he suspected it probably fell short of the mark. "Uhhhh....sure, cute." He quickly linked his hands behind his heavily muscled back, hoping to avoid having to hold the thing that'd been a bunny rabbit in another life, before Str--Bob had gotten hold of it.

"I'm gonna love it 'n hug it 'n squeeze it 'n it'll be my bestest friend, 'cause I *LOVE* cute an' fluffy t'ings!" the ex-Mischief god said, grinning in a manner that was probably supposed to be harmless, but gave everyone else the creeps. The bloody carcass he was mauling probably didn't help.

"Gonna be sick again!" Iolaus announced, wrapping an arm around his middle as he dove head-first into the nearest bush.

"See what you did!!!" Hercules snarled at Str--Bob. "You're nothing but trouble so you can stop pretending to be anything else!"

The ex-god blinked away sudden tears at his uncles's sudden attack. "But...I'm a good guy, ain't I?" He turned wide, pale blue eyes, thick with unshed tears up at his big blond cousin.

Cupid glared at Herk and wrapped an arm around his cousin's shoulder comfortingly. "Yea, Bob, you're a good guy. *Some* people just can't see out of their own bums enough to see it."

Hercules snarled at the witty insult, but then a massive ^^BLERK^^ sound came from the bush concealing Iolaus and the demigod gasped in horror. "Hang on, Iolaus!! I'm coming to help!!" He dove into the bush.

"No, Herk!!" ^^BLEEEH^^ "Don't step--" ^^SQUERSH^^

Joxer had to fight to suppress his laughter, feeling that the demi-god deserved *some* humiliation after his tirade against Str--Bob and his family. After all, what had the God of Mischief ever done to harm Hercules?

The two ex-gods weren't showing Joxer's restraint, giggling and hanging onto each other for support.

"Coming through!!!"

Joxer barely had enough time to turn and see the blur of green barreling towards him before it collided with him, tumbling them both head over heels.

"Hey, Joxer! Nice to see you, sorry to run, but gotta run!" Autolycus was trying to scramble to his feet as he spoke, that annoying self-assured grin that Joxer always found so annoying, plastered on his brown mustached face.

Just *knowing* that Auto was up to no good, the Wannabe-Warrior let his full weight drop down on the King of Thieves, pinning him there. "Oh, no you don't, Auto!" He announced valiantly.

"Ha!!" Cupe's sudden exclamation jerked Joxer's head up and he frowned at the wingless ex-god. "This is just perfect!" Cupid was rubbing his hands together eagerly and Str-Bob was grinning happily as well. Joxer suddenly had a Very Bad Feeling about this.

*******

Erin
-----
Chair of the Olympus Social Committee
Proud Participant of AA Personified (Alliterators Anonymous)

Erin's House-O-Fanfic
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Title: Pair of Fools 11/31

Authors: Erin and Candace, World's Most Perfectest Writters

Part 11 Author: Candace

Fandom: HtLJ - XWP

Pairing: D/P

Summary: Autolycus is on the road to Zebron too. Imagine that.

Archive: Candace's Fugue, Erin's House-O-Fanfic, our LJ's, RCoS

Feedback: My pen will dry up without feedback juice to fuel it.

Rating: PG still. Maybe R.

Warnings: A mention of manhood. Twin-kissing. Rampant adverbs.

Disclaimers: I think Deimos and Phobos belong to the annals of mythology, actually. Hopefully the annals of mythology don't try to sue me. //Heh heh, she said 'annals.'//

~|~|~|~|||||~|~|~|~
PAIR OF FOOLS
Part 11
~|~|~|~|||||~|~|~|~
 

It had been a tossup. Tell the truth, or tell a lie. When all the Goody Two-Shoes had asked him where he was going, it was as simple as that. Truth, lie. Lie, truth.

//Why, oh why, did I tell the truth?!?///

“Zebron!” Autolycus announced animatedly.

“Well, good,” said Hercules, swabbing at his woven leather trousers with a handful of leaves. “Because then I can keep an eye on you.”

Auto usually liked it when someone said that. It meant they liked his ass. But not Herk. With Herk, it meant Auto’s reputation was being impinged. The fact that he’d been heading toward Zebron to snitch the Crown Jewels of Zebron as the famously virile king consummated his wedding was beside the point. It was the principal of the matter.

Iolaus appeared beside his constant companion, shaking his head and holding his belly.

“What’s up, Chuck?” Auto quipped.

“Steer clear of those green apples,” Iolaus bemoaned belatedly. “They’re nasty.”

“If you can limit yourself to one or two....” Joxer hastened to add helpfully, to which no one paid any heed.

Another pair of fellows that Auto didn’t know were gazing at him. “Since you’re all tagging along with me,” Auto asked agitatedly, “are you gonna introduce yourselves?”

“I’m Cupid. And this is Bob.”

Funny, but the one in head-to-toe black leather didn’t *look* like a Bob. More of a Stanley, perhaps. “Certainly my fame precedes me. But in case you didn’t connect my handsome face to my illustrious reputation, I’ll cut you boys a little slack.”

The two leather-clad youths stared, each raising an eyebrow.

“Autolycus is the name, and larceny’s the game. You may know me as...the King of Thieves.”

“Whatevah,” said the skinny one named Bob. “When’re we goin’ ta Zebron?”

“No one appreciates genius until it’s too late,” Autolycus sighed.

The blond with the five o’ clock shadow that needed its own zip code approached. “You know, I’m really happy you’ve decided to join us.”

“Yeah?”

“Because *Joxer* here,” he grabbed the wannabe warrior and pulled him forth with a sounding of clinks and clatters, “was looking for someone to... to, um....”

“To suffocate?” Bob supplied helpfully.

“No! To show his card trick to!!” Cupid glared at Bob, who shrugged and produced a ball of reddish fur, and began stroking it. He made a wincing sort of face as he did it. Maybe his leather unmentionables were a little on the tight side.

And so, two by two, the strange group of wayfarers made their way down the long and winding road to Zebron. And it seemed that Auto was stuck with Joxer.

“So, you got this queen. See? And a red fool and a black fool....”

“And then you mix ‘em up,” Autolycus cut in, “over, under, over, over, right, left, under and spin it around. Yeah, yeah. I invented that game, got it?”

“Oh,” said Joxer, and his face fell.

“Look. No hard feelings, but I didn’t really wanna ride into Zebron in a wagon train of leather, metal, testosterone and vomit. Too flashy.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“If you’d just do me the little favor of keeping your yap shut until I’ve put a little distance between us, you’ll have my undying gratitude.”

Joxer shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.”

Autolycus nodded in satisfaction. “Okay, then. Toodle-oo!” As the troupe approached an appropriate point in the road, Autolycus veered to one side and crouched behind a broad, gnarled tree while the rest of the travelers disappeared beyond a bend in the road. “Whew,” he said, talking aloud to himself as he was wont to do. “That was close.”

“Too much closeness is a sin,” said a voice directly in his left ear.

“Or maybe it’s a virtue,” said the same voice, only in his right ear.

Autolycus stiffened as a body pressed into him from either side. “Is it getting a little crowded in here or is it me?”

“You’re not bad-lookin’, as mortals go.” Auto strained to pull his head far enough away to see the immortal who apparently had no concept of personal space. Blond, very blond. And again with the leather.

“That’s quite a statement you’re making with the facial hair,” came from the other side. Auto did a double-take. Exactly the very same face. It was bad enough once.

The skin on Autolycus’ crown jewels crawled as a hand crept across his front from either side. Luckily, the hands eventually passed Auto by and went instead for their mirror image. One petted a fringed arm while the other reached up to stroke a tanned cheek.

“Hey, Phobos,” said one. Autolycus mentally cataloged the name. “Know what?”

“What?”

“You’d look real pretty with that mustache spread over the base of your throbbing man-meat.”

Auto felt like he’d eaten one green apple too many.

“Gee, Deimos. You say the most romantic things!” Two platinum blond heads came together in the space Autolycus’ head barely had time to vacate. They mashed their lips together, tongues plainly working deep, fingers carding through each other’s heavily molded hairdos. With the skill borne from many afternoons of intense limbo competitions, Autolycus slid down, back, and stealthily away.

He quickly found the road and sprinted forward at a brisk jog, not stopping until he caught up with Joxer, Cupid, Bob, Iolaus and Hercules. “What?” Joxer asked with a sidelong glance. “Did you forget something?”

“What? Why, no. I, ah....” Autolycus tried to think about anything except his mustache and a certain blond god’s private area. “I simply decided I wanted a little...company. Yeah. That’s the ticket!”

“Oh. Okay. Well, you already *know* my card trick.”

Autolycus clapped his arm around Joxer’s thin shoulders. “Hey. Did I ever tell you about the time I stole Hermes’ sandals?”

“About a million times.”

“Well maybe you missed a subtle nuance or two. Here’s how it went....”

Cupid snuck a look over his shoulder. “Looks like they’re hitting it off!” he whispered eagerly.

The god formerly known as Strife glanced back. “I dunna see nae hittin’.”

Cupid sighed and rolled his eyes. “Not hitting as in fighting. I’m talking possible loooove mojo.”

“Wha? The two o’ them?” Bob/Strife peered back and then quickly looked ahead. “I dunnae wha you see in him anyhoo.”

“What, in Auto? Well, he’s charming, for one.”

“...”

“And he’s a really snappy dresser.”

Fuzzy things, smiles, and now *this.* Charming and a snappy dresser. The god formerly known as Strife vowed to be attractive, pleasant and good in order to win his fair cousin’s heart. Even if it killed him.

*****

Candace
Waxer of Autolycus' Mustache
Rounder of Strife's Vowels

www.candace1.com/fugue
 

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