Part 24 - Godhood Waits For No Man
"Ungh� right there."
"It's not too�"
"Gods, no� do it harder."
"Let me know if you want me to stop�"
"Sure. Sometime in the next century'll do just fine� *gnnrk* Damn�"
"Good 'damn'?"
"Verrrry good 'damn'�"
Every time he raised his hand to reach for the knob, happy noises from within made Strife stop. It was quite the quandary besetting him. There was the need to bathe in the mischief energy that busting in on the romantic doings would give him and a voice in the back of his head nagging at him to let Joxer and Unc enjoy what would probably be a rare moment of non-chaos in their lives. Something also reminded him of the pain that barging in would bring down on his body, but that had never stopped him before.
He thought about knocking - it would give him something close to a half-charge but would avoid the probability of a fireball launched in his direction. He raised his hand again.
"*puurrrrr* More of that, please."
"As you wish� y'know, if you relax, this'll go much easier�"
"Oh man�" Strife sighed, really feeling the need to barge in on his uncle getting pinned down and ravaged. Not that it was something he really needed to add a visual to, but the power he'd get would be historic. Ditto the agony� This was murder. But the guilt of ruining this for both men was fierce. After years of watching happiness getting yanked away from both the growly god and the formerly hapless former mortal, he'd be damned to the darkest, dampest, rat-filled-est corner of Tartarus before he did it himself.
But still�
Sharp prickles on the back of the Mischief God's neck made his decision for him. He'd set out godly boobytraps and one was going off, letting him know that someone was looking for him. He'd had a last minute bout of nerves and had scraped up his hand something terrible trying to get that scroll back out of the box back at Cupid's place. Having failed that, and narrowly escaping having to run around Olympus with a box on his hand, he was doing the next best thing - avoiding his cousin like the plague. So far, so good, but Feathers had to know that something was up. And if he'd read that scroll� Strife shuddered and checked his shields again, making sure that his energy signature was good and masked before he�
Almost jumped out of his skin as the door to his uncle's private room swung open. He hated being skittish - it reminded him of several decades of puberty best left forgotten. Joxer slipped out, closing the door behind him quietly. A naughty frisson of energy skittered through Strife when Joxer turned and started in surprise at seeing someone there.
"Hey Jox."
"Strife! I didn't think anyone was around� actually, I was kinda hoping things would stay quiet." Joxer jerked a thumb at the door behind him. "Ares is� asleep."
"I don't doubt it, you dog," Stride giggled more heartily and nudged the new god, watching him blush around the edges. "You wore Ol' Leather-drawers out, huh?"
"He was all bunched up� his back and shoulders. I just showed him some stuff I picked up when I followed Xena and Gabby to Chin last time. They were off doing something with a dragon or something and I kinda�" the blush deepened, "got lost."
More like they bailed on ya on purpose, Strife grumbled to himself, keeping up an interested façade for Joxer. "Find somethin' inneresting, didja?"
