Childhood Sweethearts

Information and disclaimer in first chapter

Chapter Three

Bliss's wings flapped occasionally as he strode down the hall.
Usually they remained folded quietly against his back, but sometimes
when he was excited, or agitated, they seemed to have a mind of
their own. He came to a small room in the depths of the temple that
few people realized existed. It wasn't that it was HIDDEN, it was
just that it was obscure, and it never would have occurred to most
people that it even existed. It was Strife's study.

As Ares's second in command, Strife needed to be well versed in
strategies, tactics, and the history of war. The small room was
crammed with scrolls, maps, and diagrams about everything having to
do with war--among other things. The study had long been one of
Bliss's favorite places. He never knew what he was going to find
there, since Strife was always bringing things back from the Halls
of Time.

Bliss knocked. It wasn't so much that Strife demanded privacy, it
was just that you never knew what was going to be going on in the
room, or how startled Strife might be by a sudden entrance. A
startled God of Mischief could be a dangerous thing. Bliss had come
bursting in once when he was twelve, and lost feathers to a tossed
dagger. It was a good thing that he'd dodged. The worst part about
it was how upset Strife had been that he'd almost hurt his adopted
son, so Bliss was careful from then on to announce his arrival.

He heard Strife call from inside, "Yo, c'mon in."

Bliss opened the door. "Did you get the stuff?"

Strife was sitting behind his desk, booted feet up on it. "Fine,
thanks," he drawled. "Bones achin a little bit. I think maybe I'm
comin down with rheumatism."

Bliss grinned, and went to perch on the edge of the desk. "Hey,
Strife. How are you? How was your day?"

"Just anothah day in Elysium, kiddo, an' yah, I got yer supplies."
He sat up, feet thumping down, and reached under the desk. He
picked up a box and set it on the desk. "One 'Let's Fuck With tha
Girlies' kit." He tapped a glass jar. "Two daddy long-leg spidahs--
harmless, but pretty much guaranteed ta make adolescent females have
screamin fits. Three whoopie bladdahs, ta be strategically
concealed. Will produce pootin sounds when sat on. But I gotta
tell ya, Bliss, that one's only gonna embarrass Polly. Ya know damn
good an' well that yer sistah will think it's funny. Lessee...
noise makahs that reproduce tha sound of harpies. Candles that look
just like tha kind that 'Dite uses, but smell like a burnin manure
pile. Facial masque that looks like 'Dite's special, but will leave
tha skin a nice shade of chartreuse fah a coupla days. An' last,
but not least--cherry bombs. Should ya be captured, I will disavow
any knowledge of yer mission. Dite still hasn't forgiven me fah
dressin all her statues in horn rims, midi-skirts an' Birkinstocks."

"Thanks! You're the best."

"Yah, I am. Bliss, while I'm thrilled that yer willin ta drive
people crazy, I gotta admit that I though you'da outgrown crashin
girls' slumber parties--at least ones that were given by actual
girls insteada women."

"Well, it started when Imp had Hiss slither up Accord's pants leg.
Cord almost hurt himself before he realized it wasn't a strange
snake, but was just Imp's familiar. Everything would have been cool
if she'd just apologized--you know how easy going Cord is. But no,
she had to be obnoxious about it. Cord and I started trying to
figure out how to get her back, and this is what we came up with."

"M-hm." Strife was studying him. "So, where's Cord gonna sleep?
Imp's room, or wunna tha guest rooms?"

Bliss was holding the glass jar, turning it around so he could watch
the spiders scramble over each other. "Well, we're going to be
talking to all hours, so I figured he'd sleep in my room, like
usual. Since I got my big bed, we won't have to camp out on the
floor."

There was a small frame on Strife's desk. Four shiny metal balls
were hanging in it, just kissing each other. Strife lifted one of
the end balls and let it drop. It smacked into the others, and the
ball on the far side immediately swung out. Then it dropped back
and smacked the middle balls. The ball Strife had dropped swung out
again, and the cycle began to repeat. "I love this shit. Tha last
time Joxer was here, I almost got him hypnotized, watchin it. Ya
plannin on sharin tha bed?"

The question was asked casually, and Bliss, preoccupied with the
bouncing balls, answered it absently. "Sure. What's the use of
having a big bed if you can't have your friend share it every now
and then?"

"Uh-huh. How old is Accord now?"

Bliss frowned. Why was Strife asking him that? Strife kept better
track of all the kids on Olympus than most of their parents
did. "Fourteen."

"Kind of a young fourteen, dontcha think?" Strife picked up
something that looked like a set of human teeth, still set in the
gums. This item had given Bliss a turn, the first time he'd seen
them. He thought that Bia must have gotten loose. The God of
Violent Insanity tended to leave bits of himself lying about, and it
wouldn't have been at all out of character for him to rip his own
jaw off, then forget to take it with him. After a good laugh at how
green Bliss had turned, Strife had shown him the metal key set in
the side of the object. Now Strife wound the key, set the teeth
down, and watched as they shimmied along the desk, clacking together
briskly, as if prepared to eat a hole through whatever got in front
of them.

"I suppose so." Bliss reached down and caught the teeth before they
could chatter their way over the edge of the desk. He poked his
finger between them for a moment, letting them nibble, then set them
down, facing in the other direction, to begin another
trek. "Grandma says that he's a bit of a late bloomer. He's still
kind of kiddish. I mean, his voice hasn't really dropped yet, and
his skin is still as smooth as..." He smiled. "As smooth as Imp's
bottom used to be."

"Probably still is. Don't look superior, Birdy. You don't hafta
break out tha razor but once in a blue moon yerself. I think he's
takin aftah his Daddy Joxer insteada Ares. Jox is pretty damn
smooth all ovah himself. Yer noddin. Ya noticed that, huh?"

Bliss blushed a little. "Well, I AM old enough to attend the orgies
now. Maybe Ares doesn't chase Joxer around naked as much as Dad
does you, but it happens. How did we get onto the subject of
Accord's amount of body hair?"

"We was discussin relative maturity."

"We were?"

"Maybe I'm bein too subtle. Awright, I think ya need ta reconsidah
sharin a bed with Accord."

Bliss blinked. "Why?"

"Because he's both too young, an' too old fah it."

"Now you're sounding like the Fates."

"He's too old because physical proximity might inspire certain
natural biological responses, an' he's too young 'cause he ain't old
enough yet ta know what ta do, or not do, with those responses."

"Could you be a little more obscure?"

Strife sighed. "What would ya do if he got a boner?" Bliss's mouth
dropped open. He turned beet red. He spluttered, and made two
attempts to speak, with no success. "I rest my case."

"But... but... but... STRIFE! He's my UNCLE!"

"An' Cupe's my cousin. An' yer Mom an' Dad are at least half-
siblings. An' are you gonna try ta tell me that some of yer own
uncles an' maybe aunties haven't at least leered in yer direction?"

"Well, there's Hecate, but I figured that was a witch thing. And
Apollo, but I thought that was just because he considers himself Sex
on Legs, and it's his divine duty to spread it around as much as
possible."

"That, too."

"Strife, Cord is just a kid. I wouldn't mess with him."

"Ya wouldn't intend ta, but lemme tell ya, kiddo--things look a lot
different undah tha sheets. Look, I ain't sayin that somethin
between you two would be wrong. Fuck no. I'm just saying that yer
young, Accord's even youngah, an' I know what hormones can do ta
horny adolescent males." He grinned. "Oh, tha mischief buzzes I've
gotten from just that. Probably nothin would happen, Bliss, but in
cases like this, it's bettah ta keep temptation at arm's length.
So, like, mebbe you can swap tha big bed back fah yer smaller one
whenevah Cord spends tha night?"

Bliss stared at him, then slowly said, "I just realized that I don't
want to do that, so I suppose that means that I should."

"I ain't sayin ya hafta, but I think that would be wise."

There was a knock at the door, and they heard Accord call, "Bliss,
you in there?"

Strife watched his son turn red. He bit his tongue, trying not to
giggle, but didn't succeed. Strife whispered, "I you was holdin a
goblet of wine, it'd be mulled by now." He lifted his
voice. "C'mon in, Cord."

Accord came into the room. He was dressed in his usual loose black
pants, flowing white shirt, and open maroon vest. His hair, heavy
black waves, reached his shoulders now. He was barefooted, and
Bliss was suddenly aware of how finely shaped his feet were. Accord
flowed across the room and threw himself into the vacant chair in
front of the desk.

He slouched so that his hair fell forward half hiding his face. His
pale features and large, dark eyes were barely visible through the
curtain. In centuries to come that one look (Tortured Romantic)
would have had countless men and women swooning at his feet. *Oh,
yah,* thought Strife, observing how Bliss was watching him. *I
think separate beds are a good idea for the time being.* "What's
wrong, kid? World endin? Twilight of tha Gods approachin?"

"I can't spend the night tonight."

"Ah--end of tha world."

"Why not?" asked Bliss. "I thought you had permission."

"I DID! And now Ares says I can't. It's so unfair."

"What happened?"

Accord's eyes shifted. "Nothing."

"Uh-huh," said Strife. "Look, Ares is a bad ass, but Joxer
balances 'im out, so it was probably a little more than nothin."

"I just went for a walk." He paused. "On the roof." Strife raised
his eyebrows. "Okay, on the wall around the roof."

"Accord!" Bliss exclaimed. "Not again!"

"Well, YOU do it."

*He's poutin,* thought Strife. "An' he looks adorable, an' Bliss
may not know it, but his tongue is hangin out about a foot.*

"Yeah," said Bliss, "and I have WINGS, doofus. Look, I want you to
promise me that from now on you won't do something like that unless
I'm with you."

Accord's bottom lip poked out. If Strife was any judge, Bliss was
having a hard time not thinking about nibbling on it. "You're not
my father--neither one of them," he said petulantly.

"No, but I'm your friend, and I don't want you to risk getting hurt
any more than they do. C'mon, Cord. You know that we're not just
being mean."

Accord slumped a little more. "I know. But it just feels so RIGHT,
Bliss. I... I dunno. I feel more like myself when I walk high."
He sighed. "But I won't do it again without an escort. Not till
I'm officially of age, anyway. But seventeen is a long way off."

"Hang in there, kiddo," said Strife. "Seventeen is just a target
age. Everyone knows that people mature at different rates. Act
like a grown up, an' maybe they'll cut ya some slack. Yer dads can
petition for ya ta have tha ceremony as young as fifteen. They did
it fah Ares, but then he's a special case."

"Say," said Bliss. "Is this the only punishment? I would have
thought that they'd hit you with something tougher."

"I was given a choice. It was give up spending tonight, or spend a
week in my room, with no visitors. I figured it would be better to
miss one day with you than not be able to see you at all for a
week. Well," Accord stood up. "I gotta go. They're not exactly
timing me, but my butt will be in a crack if I hang around too long."

Accord quickly gave Strife a hug around the neck, then did the same
for Bliss. The young God of Mediation was naturally physically
affectionate. Considering that he'd been born of Joxer (who was one
of the all time great snugglers), it wasn't surprising. "I'll see
you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay." Bliss's voice had dropped when he was fourteen, and he'd
been very proud of it. He hadn't squeaked in years, but now his
voice seemed to have risen an octave with that one word. Accord
left, and Bliss sat in stunned silence for a moment. Finally he
said, "He's fourteen."

"Yup. As long as ya keep that in mind, ya should be okay."

"Strife, he's FOURTEEN."

"Yah. But he won't be forevah."