Cupid's Chokehold

13815 words of pure fluff

Sometimes Frank wishes he had a different job.

Not every day, of course, because there's a lot to be thankful for in what he does now, including his deal on immortality and endless wealth, but sometimes when he's returning from another failed field mission he really, really wishes he had a different job.

~*~*~

"I'm so fucking bad at this." Frank sighs, settling himself against the cushions of the couch. The corner of a throw pillow jabs him in the lower back and he pulls it out from under himself, tossing it at the side of Ray's head.

"Bad at what?" Ray asks, even though he knows exactly what Frank means. He grabs the pillow thrown at him and puts it back where it belongs among the other cushions.

Frank thinks Ray is a douchebag for making him say it aloud. "You're a douchebag."

Ray hums in response, turning towards his friend and leaning back against the arm of the couch. The look he gives Frank as he laces his fingers together makes the other man expel a heavy, annoyed breath.

"Don't make me say it." He doesn't want to say it to Ray. Just thinking about it in the presence of those who are omniscient is embarrassing enough; never mind saying it out loud. Besides, as cheesy as it sounds, he's never been the kind of creature to settle for less than being the best that he can be.

Yet no matter what he does he cannot succeed at this.

Frank taps his foot on the tile and looks at anything other than Ray's face for a long moment. Then he groans and says, "I suck at love, alright? I'm a fucking Cupid, a servant of Aphrodite for fuck's sake, and I suck at making people fall in love."

"Why do you think that is, Frank?"

"I don't fucking know! If I knew, I'd fucking do something about it!" Frank yells, exasperated. His doves in the alcoves flutter nervously; they can sense when he's upset and it worries them. One of the youngest additions to his flock swoops down, landing on his shoulder, gently pecking at his ear while it coos soothingly.

Frank touches a finger behind its head, petting it until he calms down. A moment passes and he says, "I don't know. Maybe it's... maybe it's because I've never been in love? Not while I was still mortal and definitely not since I was scouted. I'm mostly just wondering why Aphrodite hasn't sacked me yet."

"She thinks you're far too pretty to become mortal again," Ray says, very seriously, and Frank knows it's true. As a goddess who appreciates beauty almost as much as she does love itself, Aphrodite has standards and she makes sure her Cupids live up to them. "She thinks it'd be a terrible waste to fire you and allow you to be human once again, to grow older and die just because you're terrible at your job. Such looks are meant to be preserved."

Frank snorts. "Oh, so ruining people's lives is okay, as long as you're good-looking?"

"You're not ruining people's lives, Frank; you're just..." He trails off, shifting uncomfortably.

"Look, Ray, I can't do this anymore. Not—not love, anyway. Anything else, just not love." Frank hurries to add, because he doesn't want to go back to his human life. When he was mortal he was sad all the time, sad, tired, and lonely. Being human was exhausting. Being human was hard. "Seriously, I would not even be opposed to working with, like, Hephaestus and doing something manly like forging swords."

Ray snorts. "I'll see what I can do."

Frank leans to the side, knocking his head on Ray's shoulder. "Thanks, dude."

Ray rolls his eyes, but he's smiling and fondly mussing Frank's hair.

~*~*~

Several weeks later, Frank returns from another failed assignment. His charge this time was a spirited young woman named Audrey, roundabouts twenty-six in age, and interested in botany. He'd kept trying for about three months Earth-time, going through numerous potentials before finally admitting defeat and texting Ray about his eventual return to Olympus.