Azilver's Request (Sorta): Cupid/Strife
Aug. 24th, 2008 02:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jaye_voyRequest from: azilver
Prompt: Cupid/Strife
Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me.
Feedback: Always welcome, positive or negative.
Archiving: Not without permission.
Note: Azilver wanted a nice-guy Ares involved, but unfortunately that’s an incarnation of the character I just can’t wrap my head around. So here is a Cupid/Strife offering, sans Ares.
***
Strife sighed and propped his chin on his folded arms on his bent knees, settlin’ in. He wasn’t plannin’ on shiftin’ anytime soon from the dappled shadows of the trees he was...yeah, OK, might as well admit it---*hiding* under. His mom was on a tear and, well, the better part of valor and all...
He heard them first. A high-pitched squeal followed by a deep rumble of laughter. When the voices came closer he figured the curiosity wouldn’t kill him so he rolled to a crouch and risked a glance around the trunk he’d been leanin’ against.
Cupid he knew right off. There were a coupla winged gods around, but only one who also combined extreme fuckability with golden-boy good looks and a laid-back “whatever, dude” easygoing personality. And didn’t he look fuckin’ *edible* in the leather pants-and-kilt thing. Though Strife could’ve done without the pants. Kilt, too, if he was bein’ honest.
The real truth was, even with the breakup with Psyche and all, Cupid seemed absolutely fuckin’ *perfect* and Strife would hate Cupid’s guts if he didn’t want the bastard so much.
And he did. Want Cupid, that is. It was kinda hard sometimes to keep his thoughts from wanderin’ in Cupid’s direction, when Strife didn’t actually have somethin’ specific to keep him occupied.
He certainly tried hard enough to scrub Blondie outta his skull, but the God of Love and Passion just kept poppin’ up in his head like a dead fish in a pond. Only Cupid smelt much better. And probably looked super-hot when wet...
“Daaadeeee!” The excited scream sounded practically in Strife’s ear, the shock knockin’ him on his leather-clad butt in the mother of all “Oh, shit” moments. Taken out by a godling no taller than his knee.
Strife just laid there in the grass and watched the sun wink at him through the leaves. Some days it just didn’t pay to get outta bed...
He blinked, and changed his mind. His view was suddenly filled with Cupid, large as life. Kneelin’ beside Strife and starin’ down at him with a worried look on his face as he cuddled said godling to his chest. Cupid’s very bare and, hmmm, very sculpted chest.
The godling pointed at Strife and flapped miniature wings. “Can I keep ‘im, Daddy? You said I could keep somethin’ from the woods...s’v’neeer, you said. You said---”
“I know what I said, Bliss,” Cupid murmured, and Strife had to give him props for the calm, patient tone. And for not poppin’ the kid one. “But you can’t just pick up strange gods wherever you find them. It’s not safe.”
Who was *he* callin’ strange? Strife bolted up, mouth open to blast Cupid with an earful if not a fuckin’ handful of fireballs or somethin’. But then he caught the twinkle in Cupid’s eyes and the barely-there hint of a grin. OK, then. “Yeah, kid, you don’t know where I’ve been.”
“And you haven’t even been introduced,” Cupid said with a nod, then shifted Bliss around to face Strife more fully. “Bliss, this is our cousin, Strife.” Cupid kinda lifted Bliss toward Strife. “And Strife, this is my son, Bliss.”
Strife looked at Cupid, then Bliss. Silly as it seemed, he reached out a hand and shook the tiny one that clung tight to his fingers. “Nice to meetcha, Bliss.”
“Hello.” Bliss’s eyes were wide and solemn, but after a few moments he dropped Strife’s hand and twisted around to look at Cupid again. “Can St’ife come on the picnic, Daddy? Pleeeeeeeeease...”
Cupid looked startled, then kinda ducked his head a little, and Strife would swear he saw a hint of pink on those cheeks as Cupid watched him from under long lashes. “Um, Strife, yeah. We---that is, Bliss an’ I---we were kinda gonna have lunch out here since it was such a nice day. And, y’know, there’s lots of food and you could, maybe, like, join us, and then, um, later, after Bliss is settled down for his nap, we could, sorta, talk or somethin’...”
Strife just stared, and Cupid musta got the wrong idea ‘cause his head went down all the way as he just kinda petered out with a really quiet “Y’know, if you wanted to...”
“Yes!” Strife slapped his hand over his mouth after the shout, then giggled and hunched his shoulders. As Bliss clapped and squealed and then leaned forward to start pullin' at the grass Strife dropped his hand to his lap. “I mean, uh, yeah, OK, my schedule’s kinda free...”
“Really?” And the who’d’ve-believed-it *hopeful* and kinda jazzed look on Cupid’s face made Strife sit up straight again.
Maybe he wasn’t the only one havin’ thoughts... “Yeah, it’s cool.”
“Yeah, it’s, yeah, cool.” Cupid smiled at Strife, and Strife could feel his own cheeks heatin’, just a little, as he smiled back.
END
Prompt: Cupid/Strife
Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me.
Feedback: Always welcome, positive or negative.
Archiving: Not without permission.
Note: Azilver wanted a nice-guy Ares involved, but unfortunately that’s an incarnation of the character I just can’t wrap my head around. So here is a Cupid/Strife offering, sans Ares.
***
Strife sighed and propped his chin on his folded arms on his bent knees, settlin’ in. He wasn’t plannin’ on shiftin’ anytime soon from the dappled shadows of the trees he was...yeah, OK, might as well admit it---*hiding* under. His mom was on a tear and, well, the better part of valor and all...
He heard them first. A high-pitched squeal followed by a deep rumble of laughter. When the voices came closer he figured the curiosity wouldn’t kill him so he rolled to a crouch and risked a glance around the trunk he’d been leanin’ against.
Cupid he knew right off. There were a coupla winged gods around, but only one who also combined extreme fuckability with golden-boy good looks and a laid-back “whatever, dude” easygoing personality. And didn’t he look fuckin’ *edible* in the leather pants-and-kilt thing. Though Strife could’ve done without the pants. Kilt, too, if he was bein’ honest.
The real truth was, even with the breakup with Psyche and all, Cupid seemed absolutely fuckin’ *perfect* and Strife would hate Cupid’s guts if he didn’t want the bastard so much.
And he did. Want Cupid, that is. It was kinda hard sometimes to keep his thoughts from wanderin’ in Cupid’s direction, when Strife didn’t actually have somethin’ specific to keep him occupied.
He certainly tried hard enough to scrub Blondie outta his skull, but the God of Love and Passion just kept poppin’ up in his head like a dead fish in a pond. Only Cupid smelt much better. And probably looked super-hot when wet...
“Daaadeeee!” The excited scream sounded practically in Strife’s ear, the shock knockin’ him on his leather-clad butt in the mother of all “Oh, shit” moments. Taken out by a godling no taller than his knee.
Strife just laid there in the grass and watched the sun wink at him through the leaves. Some days it just didn’t pay to get outta bed...
He blinked, and changed his mind. His view was suddenly filled with Cupid, large as life. Kneelin’ beside Strife and starin’ down at him with a worried look on his face as he cuddled said godling to his chest. Cupid’s very bare and, hmmm, very sculpted chest.
The godling pointed at Strife and flapped miniature wings. “Can I keep ‘im, Daddy? You said I could keep somethin’ from the woods...s’v’neeer, you said. You said---”
“I know what I said, Bliss,” Cupid murmured, and Strife had to give him props for the calm, patient tone. And for not poppin’ the kid one. “But you can’t just pick up strange gods wherever you find them. It’s not safe.”
Who was *he* callin’ strange? Strife bolted up, mouth open to blast Cupid with an earful if not a fuckin’ handful of fireballs or somethin’. But then he caught the twinkle in Cupid’s eyes and the barely-there hint of a grin. OK, then. “Yeah, kid, you don’t know where I’ve been.”
“And you haven’t even been introduced,” Cupid said with a nod, then shifted Bliss around to face Strife more fully. “Bliss, this is our cousin, Strife.” Cupid kinda lifted Bliss toward Strife. “And Strife, this is my son, Bliss.”
Strife looked at Cupid, then Bliss. Silly as it seemed, he reached out a hand and shook the tiny one that clung tight to his fingers. “Nice to meetcha, Bliss.”
“Hello.” Bliss’s eyes were wide and solemn, but after a few moments he dropped Strife’s hand and twisted around to look at Cupid again. “Can St’ife come on the picnic, Daddy? Pleeeeeeeeease...”
Cupid looked startled, then kinda ducked his head a little, and Strife would swear he saw a hint of pink on those cheeks as Cupid watched him from under long lashes. “Um, Strife, yeah. We---that is, Bliss an’ I---we were kinda gonna have lunch out here since it was such a nice day. And, y’know, there’s lots of food and you could, maybe, like, join us, and then, um, later, after Bliss is settled down for his nap, we could, sorta, talk or somethin’...”
Strife just stared, and Cupid musta got the wrong idea ‘cause his head went down all the way as he just kinda petered out with a really quiet “Y’know, if you wanted to...”
“Yes!” Strife slapped his hand over his mouth after the shout, then giggled and hunched his shoulders. As Bliss clapped and squealed and then leaned forward to start pullin' at the grass Strife dropped his hand to his lap. “I mean, uh, yeah, OK, my schedule’s kinda free...”
“Really?” And the who’d’ve-believed-it *hopeful* and kinda jazzed look on Cupid’s face made Strife sit up straight again.
Maybe he wasn’t the only one havin’ thoughts... “Yeah, it’s cool.”
“Yeah, it’s, yeah, cool.” Cupid smiled at Strife, and Strife could feel his own cheeks heatin’, just a little, as he smiled back.
END