Naming Names

Disclaimer applies to all chapters

Title: Naming Names
Author: Scribe
Fandom: Xena
Summary: Scribe (yeah, me), Goddess of Erotica, makes the mistake of teasing Strife about his real name. You shouldn't do that to a marginally insane divinity with access to time travel.
Rating: Fan rated mature
Pairings: Implied Strife/Cupid, Scribe/Jett
Characters: Strife, Scribe, Cupid, Jett, Bliss, Impetua
Betas: None
Notes: Based on a true incident. I did a search on my last name and, well, came up with those results. 0.o Sequel/Series: Love and Mischief Series, Stranger in a Strange Land
Disclaimer: I did not create, and do not own the rights to, the recognizable media characters that appear in this story.
I have no legal or bindingagreement with the creators, or owners.
I do not seek, and would not accept,profit from this fiction.
I have nothing but affection and respect for the creators, and the actors and actresses who portrayed these characters.
This story is in no way meant to reflect on the actual lives or life styles of the actors and actresses who portrayed the characters
All original characters are copyrighted by the author. Do NOT use without specific permission
Warning:


Naming Names
By Scribe

"Tha FUCK you say!"

"I do occasionally say fuck," Scribe drawled, "Not as often as I WRITE it, of course, but this time I did NOT say fuck."

Scribe was sprawled at one end of a very long couch, back propped comfortably against one slanted arm. Strife, sprawled in a mirror position at the other end, sat up a bit, the better to glare at her. "An' I say yer just dickin' around with my mind."

She nodded. "Yes, I often do that as well. Only fair that you get a bit of pay back, don't you think? But in this case it's absolutely true--you have a girl's name."

"I do not! It's MINE, so it hasta be a guy name."

"Who named you?"

"Ma, I guess. An' you know her--she don't like anythin girlie."

"So, you don't think she might have given you a girl's name just to be nasty?" *silence* "Uh huh. There's this song popular in my time called 'A Boy Named Sue'..."

"I still say Erin is a guy's name."

"Can you think of one other man named Erin?" *silence* "While I, on the other hand, can think of a number of females from my time named Erin. There's Erin Gray, Erin Moran--she was on Happy Days..."

"Joanie?"

"You know about her?"

"I din't know tha actress' name, but don'tcha think that Joanie an' Chachi was wunna mine?"

"Now that you mention it, it seems obvious. Then there's Erin Brockovich, and... You know, I've noticed that a lot of actresses in porn are named Erin."

"Yer tryin ta kiss up, but it won't work. I'm pissed."

"Oh, come on. I'm sure that it's just that, uh, that it got lost in translation. Or something. Heck, Strife, there are a lot of names out there that were always unisex, and some that have become gender non-specific."

"Yeah? Like?"

"Well, there have always been Leslies and Danas of both sexes. We've got both Drew Barrymore, and Drew Carey."

"Damn. Talk about a contrast."

"You said it. There's an actress named Michael Learned. One of the greatest ladies men of movie history was named Cary. In my time Ashley is a girl's name, but Ashley Wilkes was the guy Scarlet O'Hara was chasing all through Gone With the Wind. They've started naming girls Jordan and Madison. I've known both girls and boys named Chase--gawd, those fashion trends. And the British have made a hobby out of it. I was in college two years before I realized that I should be looking for Evelyn Waugh under MALE authors. And they've also named guys Vyvian, Beverly, and Shirley."

"Crap. I've heard about wantin one sex kid when ya got anotha, but that seems ta be takin things a bit far. But you wouldn't undastand how this makes me feel. No one's evah heard yer name an' thought ya were a guy."

"Nope. Gotta admit that I've never run into anyone with a Y chromosome named Fannie."

His eyes narrowed. "Ya sound smug."

"Don't I usually?"

"Smugger than usual. I gotta think about this."

*Flash*

Jett wandered into the room, sniffed, then glared around suspiciously. "I smell testosterone."

"Chill," Scribe sighed. "It was just Strife. You know that the worst I'd have to worry about from his is a goose, or boob honk, and you already said you wouldn't try to dismember him for that. And besides..." Several cats had followed him into the room. One large one was sniffing the leg of the sofa. He turned around and sprayed it. "With the number of unfixed toms I have around here, you're GOING to smell testosterone. Bad Methos!" The cat smirked, flicked his tail, and sauntered away. "Why do I bother?" She flicked a finger at the damp patch, and it disappeared. Then she materialized a bowl of potpourri on the closest table. "This godhood bit can be convenient."

Jett sat down, pulling her feet onto his lap, and began to massage them. "What was Strife doing here?"

"Just hanging out."

"Huh."

He was scowling. She knew how to handle that. She wiggled her toes against his palm. He smiled slowly, and she lifted her eyebrows. "Wanna help me research the pros and cons of silk versus, oh, suede when used as bindings in sex play?"

"Depends. Will you demonstrate, or will you be the test subject?"

"Test subject. I can't rely on second hand information too much."

"Happy to help in the gathering of knowledge."

The cats were swiftly ejected (Jett knew about the Ares/Mjau incident) and a very interesting and sweaty afternoon was had. Scribe forgot all about Strife's snit. She knew he wouldn't do anything to really hurt her.

She ignored the 'what the FUCK?!' factor at her own peril.

*****

Cupid entered the Temple of Love, and Bliss looked up from the blocks he was currently trying to form into neat columns. "Imp din't do anything. She's just sleeping."

Cupid came over and squatted down beside him. "That's good to know, but why tell me?"

"Cause you look worried. You usually look like that when Imp been up to something."

"It's not Imp. Y'see, I just passed your Daddy Strife. He was on his way to the Halls of Time, and he was giggling."

Bliss' eyes widened. "Ooooh."

"Yeah."

*****

In the Halls of Time, Strife paced between the long rows of mirrors that showed different times. "Lessee... She ain't tha least bit Greek, so I'm gonna hafta figure out tha right country ta start this shindig. Um, Spain? Aftah all, she's from Texas, an' tha Spanish traipsed all ovah Texas. Na, don't sound too Spanish. Could be Gaulish. Sounds like wunna them French wine growin regions ovah there. 'Boon-cher. Bean-venu ta tha Feazell wine region, where kick-ass vino is a way of life.' Yeah, an' she lived right next door ta Louisiana, an' that place still has parishes insteada counties. Yup, Gaul's tha place! Okay, when? Gotta start far enough back that it spreads, but not so far that it dies out. Um... say... fourteen hundreds. Arright." He located the mirror that showed the time span he was looking for, and stepped through.

*****

It was very late in the evening in Cupid's temple. Bliss and Impetua had gone to bed hours before, but they hadn't gone quietly. There was a lot of protests that they had to go to bed before Daddy Strife came home. They knew that occasionally their daddies had to be out late for business, and Strife even had to be away over night occasionally, now that Imp was getting bigger. But whenever this happened, Strife always made sure to tell them ahead of time, explain why it was necessary, and promise to be back as soon as possible.

Finally Cupid had appealed to Bliss in his capacity as Big Brother, and it had worked, as usual. Bliss told a pouting Imp, "Don't worry, Daddy Strife innt in trouble--yet."

Imp, who was three now, and seemed bent on proving every day that she was, indeed, Strife's child, stopped pouting and looked interested. "What him doin?"

"I don't know, but he went to the Halls of Time--an' he was giggling."

Imp's eyes got wide. "Ooooh!" Then she clapped and squealed, flapping her gray-green wings happily. Bliss took her hand to lead her to bed. As they disappeared down the hall, Imp was saying, "Who he gonna get?"

"I dunno," said Bliss. "But he went to visit Scribe this afternoon."

Cupid put his hand over his eyes. "Oh, crud. I guess I can look forward to a garden full of cat crap again."

Cupid had never willingly gone to bed alone since he'd married Strife, so he sat up and waited. Well, not exactly sat up. He didn't go to bed. When Strife flashed in (in a very quiet way, with just a tiny sprinkle of blue sparks, which proved that he could be considerate when he wanted to), Cupid was face down on one of the sofas, snoring softly.

Strife paused to give his husband a long, admiring look, then tip-toed first to Imp's room, then Bliss' (and the order was due to the fact that Imp's room was closer--he didn't play favorites with his children). In each room he kissed foreheads, and lightly stroked wings, murmuring words of love. Neither child awoke, but each smiled faintly in their sleep, feeling the warm sense of love. Perhaps Imp smiled a little more, feeling a sense of mischief accomplished radiating from her father.

Then Strife tip-toed back to the room he shared with Cupid. Without further ado he climbed on top of him, stretching out, and nestling between Cupid's wings, burying his face in the feathers. Cupid shifted. "Where have you been?" Strife giggled. "Now I'm not sure I want to know."

"I been ta Gaul."

"Why?"

"Just settin up a little surprise fah Scribe." He giggled again. "Wait'll she finds out what her name means in French. Talk about gettin yer panties in a knot, hers are gonna be like that knot tha Alexander kid had ta deal with."

"Sounds interesting. But if it's in French, why did you go to Gaul?"

"That's what's gonna be France in her time, right?"

"Nope. You're thinking of Gallia. Gaul is going to be Germany. HEY!"

Strife had gotten up suddenly, taking a few feathers with him. "Sorry. Germany? Aw, Hades! That could screw everythin up. I mean, I know fah a fact that tha French practically SATURATED her home area, but I dunno about tha Germans." He started for the door. "Now I gotta go back, an'..."

Cupid jumped up and grabbed Strife. "Oh, no you don't! Maybe whatever it is you did won't come out exactly like you hoped, but I know you, Strife. Somehow or other, it will have a trickle down effect. Now, come to bed. I have to be up early tomorrow."

Strife came with him. "Me, too."

"If you go anywhere near the Halls of Time to try to meddle more, I'll tell Scribe you're up to something."

"Party pooper. Well, arright. I know tha way these things work, an' it's bound ta get back ta her some day. I guess now I just gotta sit back an wait. Aftah all, I've set up things way in advance before." They snuggled into bed together. "Cupe?"

"What?"

"Don'tcha think she knows me well enough by now ta suspect SOMETHIN might be in tha works?"

*sigh* "You don't WANT me to sleep, do you?"

*****

Times passed. Days--weeks--months... It was kind of hard to tell on Olympus. Things tended to run together when you were immortal. Scribe had arranged with Zeus and Apollo to have a one week leave of absence to visit her family in 21st century Texas.

When she'd taken on her godhood, she'd demanded occasional visits to her original time and area, to keep her family from worrying, or missing her too badly. Zeus hadn't really wanted to make an exception for her, but the threat of being portrayed in every bit of erotica as a fumble-handed goat with the equipment of a gerbil and the staying power of an over-excited jackrabbit, he saw the light.

This time she was going to take Jett with her. She'd kept up a steady correspondence with her mother, and since she'd mentioned Jett a good deal, her mother had figured out that Jett now qualified as a boyfriend. Jett was under strict orders not to kill, maim, or mutilate anyone during the trip--not unless it was in direct response to a serious attack. "And you know very well what I mean by that!" she'd told him sternly. He'd smiled, cracking his knuckles. She sighed. "Hell. I'm not going to be able to stop you if someone insults me, or grabs my ass, am I? Well... A good, old fashioned ass-kicking is still appreciated in most Texas honky tonks."

Just before they left for the Halls of Time, Strife had visited Jett. The King of Assassins was packing, seeing how many layers of leather clothing he could fit into his traveling bag, when Strife appeared behind him. "Yo, Scary. I need ya ta do somethin fah me when yer ovah there."

Jett didn't seem the least surprised. "I promised Scribe I wouldn't kill anyone. I suppose if it's important I could use this special long acting poison that wouldn't take effect till we were back here. It isn't one of her relatives, is it? I'm not to the 'kill the in-laws' state."

"Nah, nothin like that. Look, they got somethin ovah there called tha Internet..."

"Yeah, I've heard her talk about it. She sounds like Dite did that time she was temporarily cursed so that she was allergic to pink, and had to avoid it for a week. You know--desperate."

"Right. So I know she'll find some way ta mess with it a lot durin tha trip. Some time when she's foolin around with it, I want ya ta suggest, casual like..."

Jett listened carefully. "Seems easy enough. Why? Am I going to want to kill you because of this?"

"It's possible. Ta tell ya tha truth, I think it would just about be worth lettin ya remove a coupla internal organs."

"Must be good. Okay. If she's just pissed, and not actually HURT, you don't need to worry about it. I like trying to calm her down--makes for good rough sex."

"Yer my kinda person, Scary. Thanks."

*****

One Week Later, in Cupid's Temple

*FLASH!*

Scribe appeared in a fountain of dark green and silver sparks, accompanied by the loud *POP!* (displaced air) of a VERY fast and vigorous transportation. Her normally curly dark hair looked like it had been styled by Medusa, and instead of her usual dress of dark green tunic and loose pants, she was wearing a pair of baggy denim shorts, and a T-shirt that said SIX FLAGS OVER TEXAS, right above the picture of a humanoid rabbit with big, buck teeth, who was waving a Lone Star flag. A slightly disoriented looking Jett (dressed in tight jeans, boots, and a T-shirt that said NATURAL BORN KILLER) was hanging onto her arm. The second she appeared she yelled, "WHERE IS HE?"

Bliss and Imp were playing with toy soldiers on the floor (Bliss set them up, Imp knocked them down), and they looked up. "Uh-oh," said Imp. "Mommy-daddy in truh-bull."

Jett cocked his head at her. "She might be looking for Cupid, Little Bit."

Imp gave him a scornful look. "Yellin like DAT?"

"Right."

"STRIFE!" Scribe yelled, glaring around. "Come out, you..." Jett elbowed her sharply. When she looked at him, he pointed. She looked, and finally noticed the two children, watching her. She visibly bit back what she wanted to say, then spoke through clenched teeth. "Hello, sweeties. Where's your daddy? I need to talk to him."

Bliss said, "Maybe you ought to wait a little while." He sounded apologetic. "You sound kind of, um..."

"Pissed," chirped Imp.

"Upset."

"Don't you worry, cherubs," she growled. "Your daddy is a big boy."

"Yeah, but maybe you oughta wait just a little..."

"Scwibe, you bwing us something?" asked Imp.

Scribe eyed her shrewdly. "I have SCRIBE WENT TO TEXAS, AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS STUPID SHIRT shirts." She held out her arms, and two wrapped packages appeared. When they reached for them, she lifted them a little, crooking an eyebrow. "For people who have my best interests at heart."

Imp promptly said, "He in tha bathin' woom."

"IMP!" squawked Bliss.

Scribe had handed the packages to Imp, and stalked out to the hall. "Oh, she gonna find 'im anyways," said Imp cheerfully. She handed the biggest package to Bliss, then ripped the paper off the second. She shook the shirt out, then squealed. "Look, Bwiss! He did cut-outs for wings onna back!"

Jett considered following his lover, but decided this was something that Scribe would rather take care of herself, so he sat down and watched as the children squirmed their way into their presents. He wasn't worried about being totally in the dark. He knew from long experience that his girlfriend was pretty damn vocal in most things. He listened to what floated up from the hall.

"STRIFE!" *splash* "I don't care if you CAN'T drown--you're going to have to come up for air SOMETIME. I can wait."

*splash* *gasp* "Scribe! Back so soon?"

"You snot! It wasn't my fault about your name! All I did was point it out to you!"

"I got no idea what yer talkin about."

"BULLSHIT! Jett spilled, Strife."

"He TOLD?"

"I offered him sex to tell me who put him up to making that particular suggestion. Do you honestly think he was going to refuse?"

"I guess not." *giggle* "Oh, tha look on yer face!"

"My MOM was looking over my shoulder when I did that search! It's just a good thing that she remarried, and her last name is now different from mine. As it is, she couldn't look me in the face for two days without blushing."

"Hey, I din't have him point her ta that personal website ya still have up--tha one with all tha kinky stuff ya wrote before ya came here."

*pause* "No, you didn't. But still... damn." *pause* *giggle*

Jett sat up alertly. That last giggle had been Scribe. He sighed. Imp said, "Was wrong?"

"Oh, it just looks like I'm not going to get to kick your Daddy-mommy's butt."

"Bummer."

"You're your father's kid."

She grinned, then held out her arm to show him a bright green snake bracelet. "See my pretty bracelet?"

Jett leaned closer. Hiss flicked his tongue at him, lifting his head. Jett sat back quickly. "Is it poisonous?" Imp shook her head. "Bummer."

"Yah."

*****

Later that afternoon, Cupid entered his home, a little warily. *No scorch marks. No broken statues, or shattered walls. No blood. I wonder if Hermes was right about Scribe being back, and going directly here?* A delicious scent tickled his nostrils, and he followed it to the kitchen that he'd had installed when Strife was pregnant with Imp, and going through his 'nesting' stage.

Sure enough, Strife was surrounded by bowls and cooking implements. He was munching on something, and there was a plate before him that was empty of everything but a few golden crumbs. He swallowed. "Hey, Feathahs. Yer gonna hafta wait fah tha next batch. I'm makin these as a kiss-up present fah Scribe, but I couldn't resist tha first batch."

"I know she came back spazzed out over something you were responsible for, but the details haven't made it onto the grapevine," said Cupid. Strife grinned. "You're going to make me guess."

"Half tha fun."

Cupid thought. "It had something to do with your last trip to the Halls of Time. Let's see... You were babbling something about her name, and Gaul."

Strife related the whole 'Erin is a girl's name' incident. "That got you upset? Hades, hon--it's not like SHE was responsible for the interpreta-- Strife... What did you do?"

"I just sorta made sure that a certain word became used fah a certain body part--in Germany. Ya remembah I was worried that was tha wrong country? Well, it turns out that tha Germans DID immigrate heavily ta Texas. They got Tha Hoffbrau, an' Tha Schlitterbahn, an' New Braunsville, an'..."

"Right, right, right. So, what did you do to her name in German?"

"This was a tricky prank. I hadda get tha information ta her without tippin my hand about what was goin on. I got Jett ta maneuver her inta makin a search fah tha meanin of her last name on a pahticular website. Wasn't easy, since she'd already just about given up on it." He snickered. "I just wish I'da thought ta get him ta bring a scryin mirror, so I could see her face when tha search results came up."

"What did you do?"

"Lemme see... I think I can remembah tha exact wordin." He cleared his throat and recited. "German: variant spellin of Feasel. Feasel is Americanized spelling of South German Fiesel, a nickname for a womanizer, from
Middle High German visel."

"Which means?"

"Just a second. Don't want mah cookies ta burn." Strife wrapped a cloth around his hand and removed a tray of fresh cookies from the oven, setting them on the counter. "These gotta cool a few minutes. "As fah what visel means..." he giggled. "Take a look at tha cookies. I thought I'd make 'em in a shape significant ta this incident."

Cupid glanced at the cookies. Then he did a double take. "Is that...?"

"Tha classic term is 'phallus', but we got a whole slew of nicknames, don't we?"

"Zeus, Strife, you're not going to... You made her last name mean... You DIDN'T!"

"Once she calmed down, she appreciated tha joke." He chuckled. "In fact, accordin ta her it was kinda appropriate, because she's given ta undahstand that when her Dad was young, he was what tha Brits would call 'a bit of a lad'..."

The End