Fic: Stupid Cupid 3/42 (Xena, Cupid/Strife, NC17)
Title: Stupid Cupid
Fandom: Xena
Pairing: Cupid/Strife
Rating: NC17
Summary: An AU that sprang from a challenge posted on the AJCS list, in which Strife is the lead singer in a punk band and a teenage Cupid falls in love.
Strife allowed himself roughly thirty seconds of basking in the afterglow of casual sex with one of the hottest guys he'd ever laid eyes on before he pasted a snarl back on his face and turned to face his bandmates. Judging by the length of time they'd spent pounding on the door he figured they were pissed, but they had to know what he was doing when he left the stage. Then again maybe that was why they were pissed, not that he really thought that was fair. He never gave them any shit about where they got off and who they did it with.
He turned to face them, swallowing a smirk as Hercules sprawled out at the end of the couch he and Cupid had just been using. "What the fuck?" he demanded, hoping if he went on the offensive right away that they'd forget the real reason they were pissed at him. "If yer gonna end the set early can't ya just get a fuckin' drink or somethin'?"
"Fuck you, Strife," Iolaus snarled at him, his drumsticks freezing in mid-air long enough for him to glare at their lead singer. "Anyway, Jailbait probably had to get home to his mommy."
"What the fuck're ya talking 'bout? He's not jailbait, he's in college. He just told me so."
"Well next time maybe you should ask to see a driver's license," Xena said. "Because Gabbie's seen him around here plenty of times with his friends, and she says they're all still in high school."
"That bitch," Strife muttered, rolling his eyes at the mention of Xena's best friend. At first he'd just hated Gabbie because of the way she treated Xena like a doormat, but now that he'd spent some time with her he hated her just for being who she was. “What the fuck does she know?”
“A lot more than you about your jailbait boyfriend, anyway. And just because you don’t like her doesn’t make her a bitch.”
"Yeah, and what the fuck kind of name is 'Cupid', anyway?" Hercules added, glancing over at Iolaus with a smirk.
Strife rolled his eyes again, shaking his head as he tried to convince himself this was all just some dumb joke. Maybe they were just trying to get back at him for ditching them in the middle of a set. "Fuck off," he muttered, his cheeks flushing at the lameness of the comeback.
"Look, Strife, if you wanna screw around with some underage groupie we'd don't care," Xena said, her voice softening almost imperceptibly. "Just remember why you're here. No piece of ass is worth throwing that away, no matter how pretty he is."
And that was the problem, because Cupid wasn't just a pretty piece of ass. Okay, so Strife had wanted to fuck him since the first second their eyes met, but now that he had he still wanted him. Usually when he picked somebody up in a bar or a club one night was enough, after he knew how the guy kissed and how he felt moving under Strife he got bored and moved on. Cupid, though…that was a guy Strife definitely wanted to see a lot more of. It just figured that the first guy in ages that he'd actually been interested in would turn out to be a high school kid. A high school kid that he'd fucked without any prep work. Hell, they'd barely exchanged names before they started tearing their clothes off. "Shit. He's gotta be like a senior, though, I mean you guys saw him. No way is that kid less than seventeen. Maybe he's eighteen already. Did the bi…Gabbie say how old he was?"
"She didn't say," Xena snapped. She glared at him for a second before relenting with a sigh. "Look, Strife, don't freak out, it's no big deal. Everybody saw that kid, he knew what he was doing. So I doubt you need to worry about his old man showing up with a shotgun or anything. Plus, who could blame you? He was pretty hot, even Iolaus said so."
"I did not," Iolaus snapped, heat creeping into his cheeks as they all turned to look at him. He glanced over at Hercules and blushed an even deeper shade of red. "What? I didn't fucking say that."
"Whatevah," Strife muttered, thankful that Herc and Xena had moved on from laughing at him to making fun of Iolaus. He couldn't enjoy the fact that Hercules looked horror-stricken at the idea of his best friend thinking a guy was hot, though, because he was too busy worrying about Cupid. It was bad enough he'd had sex with the guy without even bothering to ask how old he was, but he couldn't deny that he still wanted him. Even now that he knew Cupid had lied all he had to do was picture that shy smile and his cock twitched in his jeans.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, sinking into a rickety metal chair and burying his head in his hands. That wasn't even the worst part, because no one would blame him for wanting somebody that looked like Cupid. No, the part that really worried him was that he'd invited Cupid to their show this weekend, and chances were that he'd show up. He'd said he'd try, and for all he knew Strife still thought he was some college kid from the suburbs. And he knew himself well enough to know that if Cupid did show up he was going to have a hard time saying no the second time.
He tried to tell himself that it was no big deal that Cupid was a little younger than he'd assumed; seventeen was old enough and it wasn't like he'd broken any laws. At least he didn't think he had. The thought of fucking a high school kid, though - high school seemed so long ago for him, and he remembered what it was like back then whenever somebody showed an interest in him. There were always a bunch of messy feelings and emotions and all that stuff Strife didn't have time for right now, and he couldn't afford to have some high school kid falling in love with him. That was the last thing he needed, especially when the band was just starting to make a name for itself.
He was still brooding when Xena stood up and announced that it was time to get back onstage, dragging Strife out of his chair and pushing him ahead of her out the door. The last thing he felt like doing was getting up onstage and screaming his way through another whole set, but it was their first real gig in New York and if he fucked it up they'd kick him out of the band. Xena was right about one thing; he'd worked too hard for this shot to fuck it up because of some pretty face. He just hoped the pretty face and the body it was attached to had already left to catch his train back to wherever he came from.
As the music started behind him he found himself scanning the crowd, telling himself he was just making sure Cupid was already gone. He caught sight of blond hair out of the corner of his eye, his heart skipping a beat as he swung as casually as possible in that direction. As soon as he realized it wasn't Cupid his heart fell, and he squeezed his eyes shut and put a little extra energy into the guttural scream at the beginning of the song. His heart didn't have a goddamn thing to do with anything, and there was no way he was actually looking for some kid that had lied to him about his age. Granted, he'd never actually asked, but that wasn't the point. The point was he was not going to have a crush on some high school kid, and that was all that mattered.
~
"What, again? You've gotta be fucking kidding me. Cupe, come on, man. I thought you got that out of your system last weekend."
Cupid scowled and picked at a loose thread on the cuff of his denim jacket so he wouldn't have to see Auto's disapproving stare. It was bad enough that he couldn't do anything without the two of them finding out about it, but now Auto was just being a jerk because he could. Or maybe he was jealous, but that was something Cupid didn't even want to think about.
"Give him a break, Auto. He's got a crush." Psyche leaned around her boyfriend and grinned in Cupid's direction, succeeding in making him blush a little harder and roll his eyes.
"I do not. I just like the band."
"I don't care if you're engaged to marry the guy, I don't want to hang out at that piece of shit club. I hate that place, everybody that goes there is a total poser."
Cupid rolled his eyes again but didn't say anything. Instead he stood up and dusted imaginary dirt off his jeans, leaning down to pick up his backpack. "Yeah, well I don't remember asking if you wanted to go with me," he said when he straightened up again, raising his eyebrows defiantly when Auto frowned at him. "I gotta go."
"Cupid, wait," Psyche called after him, but he didn't bother looking back at his friends. He heard Psyche slap Auto's arm and mutter something about his big mouth, but he shut them out and walked a little faster so he didn't have to hear whatever Auto was about to say about him.
He was used to them hovering over him like he couldn't take care of himself; after all, when they first met him he didn't know anything about life outside of Neptune, New Jersey. He'd been hanging out with them for almost a year now, though, and he'd been to the clubs enough to know how to handle himself. He didn't need babysitters anymore, and whether or not Auto wanted to face it he wasn't Cupid's bodyguard. Or his boyfriend. Cupid scowled and pushed away the jolt of guilt he felt for walking away from them, shifting his backpack a little further up on his shoulder as he turned toward home.
It would be one thing if it was really about Auto just not wanting to go to The Underground that weekend. Cupid knew it wasn't his favorite club, but they'd endured the cramped room, the sticky tables and the watered-down beer on the nights when the club actually had decent bands headlining. He'd thrown in that insult about posers just to let Cupid know that he didn't like the fact that his best friend was chasing around after some singer like some kind of groupie, but that wasn't what Cupid was doing at all. It wasn't. He thought the band was pretty good, but even if Strife was just some guy he'd met at the club he'd want to see him again.
They had a connection, he knew they did. Maybe a guy like Auto wouldn’t understand something like that, not with the way he hit on everything that happened to look twice at him. Normally Cupid wouldn't think twice about some guy he had sex with the first time he met him; he didn't have any teenage delusions about romance or sex equaling love. But Strife had asked to see him again, he'd invited Cupid to the show and that had to mean something, right? Even if he didn't want a repeat performance of last time it at least meant he liked Cupid enough to want him around.
Well, maybe not liked exactly, they didn't really know each other well enough for that. But he was interested, and that had to count for something. It would probably be better if he didn't show up with Auto and Psyche in tow anyway. Who knew what they'd do or say to embarrass him in front of Strife and the other members of the band, that was if Cupid actually met any of them instead of just rushing out of the room as soon as they showed up this time. He blushed all over again at that thought, but he squared his shoulders and told himself it didn't matter what they thought of him. All he cared about was what Strife thought, and if he didn't show up at The Underground that weekend he'd never get a chance to find out.
There was still the problem of Strife assuming he was in college, but Cupid had almost convinced himself that didn't matter. It was just a little white lie, and it wasn't like he'd ever actually confirmed it. So Strife thought he was a year or two older than he was, no big deal. It wasn't like they were even dating, and if that changed Cupid would just tell him the truth. Dating Strife…the idea sent a flurry of butterflies sailing through his stomach, and he thought for a second he might actually throw up. He slowed his footsteps as he got closer to his house, turning over the idea in his mind. A boyfriend like Strife was something he'd never had before - to be honest he'd never had a boyfriend at all - but suddenly Strife was exactly the kind of guy he'd been looking for all this time. He just knew it, he didn't even have to get to know him to know that.
Not that it mattered, though, because Strife wasn't going to be his boyfriend. Strife wasn't even going to be in town, because he was from Detroit or somewhere and after this weekend Cupid would probably never see him again. He knew that, it was just hard not to think about the possibilities. It hadn't been so hard until Auto and Psyche started in on him on the train ride back from the club last weekend, but ever since Psyche started teasing him about his crush he hadn't been able to think about much else.
He just wished he could prove to them for once that he wasn't some dumb kid that needed looking out for. He almost wished they'd show up at The Underground so they could see that Strife wanted him around, that he was happy that Cupid showed up and that he really had asked him to stop by. Of course the idea of Auto acting like his big brother, or worse, his own personal guard dog, didn't appeal to him much, and with his luck one of them would open their big mouths and let it slip that Cupid hadn't actually gotten around to graduating from high school yet. Yeah, it was definitely better if they found something else to do this weekend. It might even be best for everybody if they forgot they even knew who Cupid was.
~
As it turned out there was a lot more to this whole 'dressing to go out' thing than Psyche had let on. She made it look so easy, but without her help Cupid just felt stupid about everything he tried. He couldn't find the right shirt to go with his pants to save his life, and he wasn't about to try streaking his own hair. So instead of the dramatic red streaks he'd had the last time he saw Strife he'd just have to settle for plain old blond, and instead of a strategically ripped Sex Pistols tee shirt he was wearing a pair of black jeans, an old white tee shirt and this long black coat Psyche had made him buy. When he'd looked at himself in the mirror back home the first thing he thought was that he looked like he was trying to be Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The second thing he thought was that he couldn't go through another hour of trying to find the perfect outfit, and anyway if he didn't get going he was going to miss the whole show.
He'd lied to his mother for the first time that night. Okay, so he'd told her half-truths before just to keep her happy, but this was the first time he'd ever looked her square in the eye and told a complete and outright lie. He knew she'd never let him go out by himself, though, and if she knew he was taking the train into the city alone…he'd be locked in his bedroom until he was 30. 35 if she found out he was going to meet a guy. She let him go into the city alone to visit his dad, and even though she didn't like Auto and Psyche much she'd let him go to shows with them as long as he made sure he was on the last train. He was almost eighteen, after all, and she knew as well as he did that she'd have to let him grow up eventually.
Still, going into the city to meet some guy she'd never met, and an older guy at that would have been too much even for his mother. So he'd told her he was spending the night hanging out and watching movies with Auto and Psyche, and then without even thinking about it he'd added that he was going to crash at Auto's so she shouldn't worry about him coming home. He didn't even know why he'd said it, it wasn't like he had definite plans with Strife. Chances were he'd get to the club and the guy wouldn't even remember who he was, but he'd stood there and looked right in his mother's face when he told her he wouldn't be home that night.
It had felt weird to say it, he wasn't sure what the word was exactly but he was leaning toward 'liberating'. It wasn't his first real act of defiance, but he always tried to follow his mom's rules and lying to her about his plans felt just dangerous enough to feel kind of good. That and the fact that Auto didn't approve of what he was doing just made him more determined to do it, and when he stepped off the subway and made his way toward The Underground it was hard to keep from bouncing just a little. He managed to rein in his excitement enough to look dangerous, a scowl firmly fixed on his features. If his eyes shone just a little more than usual nobody would notice.
Psyche had told him once after a long, full night of partying that he looked older with a little stubble, so he hadn't shaved for a couple days and the coarse hair on his chin just made him look that much more like he was looking for trouble. The bouncer at the door to the club didn't even ask for his ID, which was almost disappointing because he had an excellent fake. He just shrugged when the man waved him inside, making his way through the crowd to the bar.
He ordered a beer to calm his nerves and took a few sips of bitter liquid before he found a seat near the side of the stage, sprawling in an uncomfortable wooden chair and resting his elbows on the table to wait for the show to start. Once he got over the initial thrill of doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing he started looking around a little more self-consciously, feeling suddenly overdressed in his long jacket and tight jeans. The club was filling up quickly with the weekend crowd, and the room was heating up faster than he'd anticipated. He tilted his beer back and swallowed half the contents of the bottle, wishing he'd remembered to eat something when his head started to swim a little from the sudden rush of alcohol in his system.
Okay, so maybe going to a club by himself wasn't the most fun he'd ever had. But he wasn't there to hang out and mingle, he wasn't even there to hear the band. He was there to see Strife, and as long as he actually showed up and remembered who Cupid was everything would be fine. The fact that there was no sign of him yet didn't mean anything; it was still pretty early and the band wouldn't go on for at least another half hour. So he wasn't there early to talk to Cupid before the show, it wasn't like Cupid had been expecting that. He wasn't expecting anything, he was just there because he said he'd be there.
The closer it got to show time and the more beer he got in his system the harder it was for Cupid to remember why he'd gone to the club in the first place. Strife had never actually said he'd talk to Cupid at the show, now that he thought of it. All he'd said was 'we're playing at The Underground, you should come by'. So maybe he thought Cupid was some kind of groupie or something, and he'd just been doing a little free advertising for their next show. The thought would have made Cupid blush if his face wasn't already so warm from the combination of beer and his jacket. And why had he decided it was a good idea to wear a leather duster in April, anyway? He was going to sweat to death before he ever laid eyes on Strife again, and that was sure to make a great impression.
Only if Strife really did think he was just a groupie Cupid didn't even want to see him. What he wanted to do was get up out of his chair and make his way across the crowded, smoky club to the door. He could always take the subway to the Village and see what his father was doing, maybe crash on his sofa so he wouldn't have to go home and make up another lie to tell his mother. The more he thought about it the better that idea sounded, and he'd almost made up his mind to bail when someone stopped in front of his table.
"So you showed after all."
He looked up, blinking at the girl standing between him and the stage. She had short blonde hair, and her features were twisted into a smirk that would have made him nervous if he hadn't already finished a beer and a half. She looked familiar, but he couldn't remember where he'd seen her before. "Do I know you?"
"I'm with the band," she answered, her smirk fading into a grin that told him whatever she did for the band was pretty important, at least to her. "You wanna go backstage? I know Strife'll want to see you."
Cupid paused with his lips slightly parted, glancing past her at the still-empty stage for a second before he turned his attention back to her. "You sure he won't mind? I mean don't they go on soon?"
"They've got plenty of time," she answered. "Come on, I'll take you back myself."
"I don't mind waiting," Cupid said, some of his buzz wearing off as it sunk in that she was actually offering to take him to Strife. He should have jumped at the chance; that was the whole reason he was there by himself, after all, but something about the way she kept smirking at him made him wonder what he was getting himself into. "I'm really just here to hear them play anyway."
"Sure you are." She smirked again and grabbed his arm, hauling him up out of his chair. "I'm Gabbie," she called over his shoulder as she dragged him through the crowd toward a door at the back of the club. "I'm the band's manager, I set up the gigs and stuff. Don't worry, it's totally cool if you go back."
Cupid wasn't at all sure he should believe her, but it seemed impolite to stop her when she seemed so determined to bring him directly to Strife. Suddenly the prospect of spending the night on his father's couch sounded like the best idea in the world, and he glanced mournfully in the direction of the front door of the club as Gabbie pushed him through the stage door and stepped through behind him. Less than thirty seconds later he was being half-shoved, half-guided through another door, and he blinked at the sudden change in light.
"Hey Strife," Gabbie said from behind him, and he glanced back at her long enough to register the return of her smirk. "Look who I found."
Cupid followed her gaze, taking in the amused and not-at-all-surprised expressions of the rest of the band before he forced himself to look at Strife. He looked exactly like Cupid remembered, all pale angles and bright blue eyes peering out at him from under a shock of dark hair. This time he was wearing some kind of chain metal thing that covered his chest but left his arms bare, and Cupid swallowed hard as he forced his gaze back up to those piercing blue eyes.
The room was too quiet, and for a second Cupid thought about turning and bolting out the door he'd just come through. Then someone cleared their throat and somebody else unsuccessfully stifled a snort of laughter, and Strife stood up and crossed the room. He didn't stop in front of Cupid, he didn't even say hello or 'what the fuck do you think you're doing?'. He just grabbed Cupid's arm and pushed him back in the direction of the door he'd just come through, guiding him out into the dimly lit hallway and slamming the door shut on his bandmates before he turned a glare on the other boy.
Fandom: Xena
Pairing: Cupid/Strife
Rating: NC17
Summary: An AU that sprang from a challenge posted on the AJCS list, in which Strife is the lead singer in a punk band and a teenage Cupid falls in love.
Strife allowed himself roughly thirty seconds of basking in the afterglow of casual sex with one of the hottest guys he'd ever laid eyes on before he pasted a snarl back on his face and turned to face his bandmates. Judging by the length of time they'd spent pounding on the door he figured they were pissed, but they had to know what he was doing when he left the stage. Then again maybe that was why they were pissed, not that he really thought that was fair. He never gave them any shit about where they got off and who they did it with.
He turned to face them, swallowing a smirk as Hercules sprawled out at the end of the couch he and Cupid had just been using. "What the fuck?" he demanded, hoping if he went on the offensive right away that they'd forget the real reason they were pissed at him. "If yer gonna end the set early can't ya just get a fuckin' drink or somethin'?"
"Fuck you, Strife," Iolaus snarled at him, his drumsticks freezing in mid-air long enough for him to glare at their lead singer. "Anyway, Jailbait probably had to get home to his mommy."
"What the fuck're ya talking 'bout? He's not jailbait, he's in college. He just told me so."
"Well next time maybe you should ask to see a driver's license," Xena said. "Because Gabbie's seen him around here plenty of times with his friends, and she says they're all still in high school."
"That bitch," Strife muttered, rolling his eyes at the mention of Xena's best friend. At first he'd just hated Gabbie because of the way she treated Xena like a doormat, but now that he'd spent some time with her he hated her just for being who she was. “What the fuck does she know?”
“A lot more than you about your jailbait boyfriend, anyway. And just because you don’t like her doesn’t make her a bitch.”
"Yeah, and what the fuck kind of name is 'Cupid', anyway?" Hercules added, glancing over at Iolaus with a smirk.
Strife rolled his eyes again, shaking his head as he tried to convince himself this was all just some dumb joke. Maybe they were just trying to get back at him for ditching them in the middle of a set. "Fuck off," he muttered, his cheeks flushing at the lameness of the comeback.
"Look, Strife, if you wanna screw around with some underage groupie we'd don't care," Xena said, her voice softening almost imperceptibly. "Just remember why you're here. No piece of ass is worth throwing that away, no matter how pretty he is."
And that was the problem, because Cupid wasn't just a pretty piece of ass. Okay, so Strife had wanted to fuck him since the first second their eyes met, but now that he had he still wanted him. Usually when he picked somebody up in a bar or a club one night was enough, after he knew how the guy kissed and how he felt moving under Strife he got bored and moved on. Cupid, though…that was a guy Strife definitely wanted to see a lot more of. It just figured that the first guy in ages that he'd actually been interested in would turn out to be a high school kid. A high school kid that he'd fucked without any prep work. Hell, they'd barely exchanged names before they started tearing their clothes off. "Shit. He's gotta be like a senior, though, I mean you guys saw him. No way is that kid less than seventeen. Maybe he's eighteen already. Did the bi…Gabbie say how old he was?"
"She didn't say," Xena snapped. She glared at him for a second before relenting with a sigh. "Look, Strife, don't freak out, it's no big deal. Everybody saw that kid, he knew what he was doing. So I doubt you need to worry about his old man showing up with a shotgun or anything. Plus, who could blame you? He was pretty hot, even Iolaus said so."
"I did not," Iolaus snapped, heat creeping into his cheeks as they all turned to look at him. He glanced over at Hercules and blushed an even deeper shade of red. "What? I didn't fucking say that."
"Whatevah," Strife muttered, thankful that Herc and Xena had moved on from laughing at him to making fun of Iolaus. He couldn't enjoy the fact that Hercules looked horror-stricken at the idea of his best friend thinking a guy was hot, though, because he was too busy worrying about Cupid. It was bad enough he'd had sex with the guy without even bothering to ask how old he was, but he couldn't deny that he still wanted him. Even now that he knew Cupid had lied all he had to do was picture that shy smile and his cock twitched in his jeans.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, sinking into a rickety metal chair and burying his head in his hands. That wasn't even the worst part, because no one would blame him for wanting somebody that looked like Cupid. No, the part that really worried him was that he'd invited Cupid to their show this weekend, and chances were that he'd show up. He'd said he'd try, and for all he knew Strife still thought he was some college kid from the suburbs. And he knew himself well enough to know that if Cupid did show up he was going to have a hard time saying no the second time.
He tried to tell himself that it was no big deal that Cupid was a little younger than he'd assumed; seventeen was old enough and it wasn't like he'd broken any laws. At least he didn't think he had. The thought of fucking a high school kid, though - high school seemed so long ago for him, and he remembered what it was like back then whenever somebody showed an interest in him. There were always a bunch of messy feelings and emotions and all that stuff Strife didn't have time for right now, and he couldn't afford to have some high school kid falling in love with him. That was the last thing he needed, especially when the band was just starting to make a name for itself.
He was still brooding when Xena stood up and announced that it was time to get back onstage, dragging Strife out of his chair and pushing him ahead of her out the door. The last thing he felt like doing was getting up onstage and screaming his way through another whole set, but it was their first real gig in New York and if he fucked it up they'd kick him out of the band. Xena was right about one thing; he'd worked too hard for this shot to fuck it up because of some pretty face. He just hoped the pretty face and the body it was attached to had already left to catch his train back to wherever he came from.
As the music started behind him he found himself scanning the crowd, telling himself he was just making sure Cupid was already gone. He caught sight of blond hair out of the corner of his eye, his heart skipping a beat as he swung as casually as possible in that direction. As soon as he realized it wasn't Cupid his heart fell, and he squeezed his eyes shut and put a little extra energy into the guttural scream at the beginning of the song. His heart didn't have a goddamn thing to do with anything, and there was no way he was actually looking for some kid that had lied to him about his age. Granted, he'd never actually asked, but that wasn't the point. The point was he was not going to have a crush on some high school kid, and that was all that mattered.
~
"What, again? You've gotta be fucking kidding me. Cupe, come on, man. I thought you got that out of your system last weekend."
Cupid scowled and picked at a loose thread on the cuff of his denim jacket so he wouldn't have to see Auto's disapproving stare. It was bad enough that he couldn't do anything without the two of them finding out about it, but now Auto was just being a jerk because he could. Or maybe he was jealous, but that was something Cupid didn't even want to think about.
"Give him a break, Auto. He's got a crush." Psyche leaned around her boyfriend and grinned in Cupid's direction, succeeding in making him blush a little harder and roll his eyes.
"I do not. I just like the band."
"I don't care if you're engaged to marry the guy, I don't want to hang out at that piece of shit club. I hate that place, everybody that goes there is a total poser."
Cupid rolled his eyes again but didn't say anything. Instead he stood up and dusted imaginary dirt off his jeans, leaning down to pick up his backpack. "Yeah, well I don't remember asking if you wanted to go with me," he said when he straightened up again, raising his eyebrows defiantly when Auto frowned at him. "I gotta go."
"Cupid, wait," Psyche called after him, but he didn't bother looking back at his friends. He heard Psyche slap Auto's arm and mutter something about his big mouth, but he shut them out and walked a little faster so he didn't have to hear whatever Auto was about to say about him.
He was used to them hovering over him like he couldn't take care of himself; after all, when they first met him he didn't know anything about life outside of Neptune, New Jersey. He'd been hanging out with them for almost a year now, though, and he'd been to the clubs enough to know how to handle himself. He didn't need babysitters anymore, and whether or not Auto wanted to face it he wasn't Cupid's bodyguard. Or his boyfriend. Cupid scowled and pushed away the jolt of guilt he felt for walking away from them, shifting his backpack a little further up on his shoulder as he turned toward home.
It would be one thing if it was really about Auto just not wanting to go to The Underground that weekend. Cupid knew it wasn't his favorite club, but they'd endured the cramped room, the sticky tables and the watered-down beer on the nights when the club actually had decent bands headlining. He'd thrown in that insult about posers just to let Cupid know that he didn't like the fact that his best friend was chasing around after some singer like some kind of groupie, but that wasn't what Cupid was doing at all. It wasn't. He thought the band was pretty good, but even if Strife was just some guy he'd met at the club he'd want to see him again.
They had a connection, he knew they did. Maybe a guy like Auto wouldn’t understand something like that, not with the way he hit on everything that happened to look twice at him. Normally Cupid wouldn't think twice about some guy he had sex with the first time he met him; he didn't have any teenage delusions about romance or sex equaling love. But Strife had asked to see him again, he'd invited Cupid to the show and that had to mean something, right? Even if he didn't want a repeat performance of last time it at least meant he liked Cupid enough to want him around.
Well, maybe not liked exactly, they didn't really know each other well enough for that. But he was interested, and that had to count for something. It would probably be better if he didn't show up with Auto and Psyche in tow anyway. Who knew what they'd do or say to embarrass him in front of Strife and the other members of the band, that was if Cupid actually met any of them instead of just rushing out of the room as soon as they showed up this time. He blushed all over again at that thought, but he squared his shoulders and told himself it didn't matter what they thought of him. All he cared about was what Strife thought, and if he didn't show up at The Underground that weekend he'd never get a chance to find out.
There was still the problem of Strife assuming he was in college, but Cupid had almost convinced himself that didn't matter. It was just a little white lie, and it wasn't like he'd ever actually confirmed it. So Strife thought he was a year or two older than he was, no big deal. It wasn't like they were even dating, and if that changed Cupid would just tell him the truth. Dating Strife…the idea sent a flurry of butterflies sailing through his stomach, and he thought for a second he might actually throw up. He slowed his footsteps as he got closer to his house, turning over the idea in his mind. A boyfriend like Strife was something he'd never had before - to be honest he'd never had a boyfriend at all - but suddenly Strife was exactly the kind of guy he'd been looking for all this time. He just knew it, he didn't even have to get to know him to know that.
Not that it mattered, though, because Strife wasn't going to be his boyfriend. Strife wasn't even going to be in town, because he was from Detroit or somewhere and after this weekend Cupid would probably never see him again. He knew that, it was just hard not to think about the possibilities. It hadn't been so hard until Auto and Psyche started in on him on the train ride back from the club last weekend, but ever since Psyche started teasing him about his crush he hadn't been able to think about much else.
He just wished he could prove to them for once that he wasn't some dumb kid that needed looking out for. He almost wished they'd show up at The Underground so they could see that Strife wanted him around, that he was happy that Cupid showed up and that he really had asked him to stop by. Of course the idea of Auto acting like his big brother, or worse, his own personal guard dog, didn't appeal to him much, and with his luck one of them would open their big mouths and let it slip that Cupid hadn't actually gotten around to graduating from high school yet. Yeah, it was definitely better if they found something else to do this weekend. It might even be best for everybody if they forgot they even knew who Cupid was.
~
As it turned out there was a lot more to this whole 'dressing to go out' thing than Psyche had let on. She made it look so easy, but without her help Cupid just felt stupid about everything he tried. He couldn't find the right shirt to go with his pants to save his life, and he wasn't about to try streaking his own hair. So instead of the dramatic red streaks he'd had the last time he saw Strife he'd just have to settle for plain old blond, and instead of a strategically ripped Sex Pistols tee shirt he was wearing a pair of black jeans, an old white tee shirt and this long black coat Psyche had made him buy. When he'd looked at himself in the mirror back home the first thing he thought was that he looked like he was trying to be Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The second thing he thought was that he couldn't go through another hour of trying to find the perfect outfit, and anyway if he didn't get going he was going to miss the whole show.
He'd lied to his mother for the first time that night. Okay, so he'd told her half-truths before just to keep her happy, but this was the first time he'd ever looked her square in the eye and told a complete and outright lie. He knew she'd never let him go out by himself, though, and if she knew he was taking the train into the city alone…he'd be locked in his bedroom until he was 30. 35 if she found out he was going to meet a guy. She let him go into the city alone to visit his dad, and even though she didn't like Auto and Psyche much she'd let him go to shows with them as long as he made sure he was on the last train. He was almost eighteen, after all, and she knew as well as he did that she'd have to let him grow up eventually.
Still, going into the city to meet some guy she'd never met, and an older guy at that would have been too much even for his mother. So he'd told her he was spending the night hanging out and watching movies with Auto and Psyche, and then without even thinking about it he'd added that he was going to crash at Auto's so she shouldn't worry about him coming home. He didn't even know why he'd said it, it wasn't like he had definite plans with Strife. Chances were he'd get to the club and the guy wouldn't even remember who he was, but he'd stood there and looked right in his mother's face when he told her he wouldn't be home that night.
It had felt weird to say it, he wasn't sure what the word was exactly but he was leaning toward 'liberating'. It wasn't his first real act of defiance, but he always tried to follow his mom's rules and lying to her about his plans felt just dangerous enough to feel kind of good. That and the fact that Auto didn't approve of what he was doing just made him more determined to do it, and when he stepped off the subway and made his way toward The Underground it was hard to keep from bouncing just a little. He managed to rein in his excitement enough to look dangerous, a scowl firmly fixed on his features. If his eyes shone just a little more than usual nobody would notice.
Psyche had told him once after a long, full night of partying that he looked older with a little stubble, so he hadn't shaved for a couple days and the coarse hair on his chin just made him look that much more like he was looking for trouble. The bouncer at the door to the club didn't even ask for his ID, which was almost disappointing because he had an excellent fake. He just shrugged when the man waved him inside, making his way through the crowd to the bar.
He ordered a beer to calm his nerves and took a few sips of bitter liquid before he found a seat near the side of the stage, sprawling in an uncomfortable wooden chair and resting his elbows on the table to wait for the show to start. Once he got over the initial thrill of doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing he started looking around a little more self-consciously, feeling suddenly overdressed in his long jacket and tight jeans. The club was filling up quickly with the weekend crowd, and the room was heating up faster than he'd anticipated. He tilted his beer back and swallowed half the contents of the bottle, wishing he'd remembered to eat something when his head started to swim a little from the sudden rush of alcohol in his system.
Okay, so maybe going to a club by himself wasn't the most fun he'd ever had. But he wasn't there to hang out and mingle, he wasn't even there to hear the band. He was there to see Strife, and as long as he actually showed up and remembered who Cupid was everything would be fine. The fact that there was no sign of him yet didn't mean anything; it was still pretty early and the band wouldn't go on for at least another half hour. So he wasn't there early to talk to Cupid before the show, it wasn't like Cupid had been expecting that. He wasn't expecting anything, he was just there because he said he'd be there.
The closer it got to show time and the more beer he got in his system the harder it was for Cupid to remember why he'd gone to the club in the first place. Strife had never actually said he'd talk to Cupid at the show, now that he thought of it. All he'd said was 'we're playing at The Underground, you should come by'. So maybe he thought Cupid was some kind of groupie or something, and he'd just been doing a little free advertising for their next show. The thought would have made Cupid blush if his face wasn't already so warm from the combination of beer and his jacket. And why had he decided it was a good idea to wear a leather duster in April, anyway? He was going to sweat to death before he ever laid eyes on Strife again, and that was sure to make a great impression.
Only if Strife really did think he was just a groupie Cupid didn't even want to see him. What he wanted to do was get up out of his chair and make his way across the crowded, smoky club to the door. He could always take the subway to the Village and see what his father was doing, maybe crash on his sofa so he wouldn't have to go home and make up another lie to tell his mother. The more he thought about it the better that idea sounded, and he'd almost made up his mind to bail when someone stopped in front of his table.
"So you showed after all."
He looked up, blinking at the girl standing between him and the stage. She had short blonde hair, and her features were twisted into a smirk that would have made him nervous if he hadn't already finished a beer and a half. She looked familiar, but he couldn't remember where he'd seen her before. "Do I know you?"
"I'm with the band," she answered, her smirk fading into a grin that told him whatever she did for the band was pretty important, at least to her. "You wanna go backstage? I know Strife'll want to see you."
Cupid paused with his lips slightly parted, glancing past her at the still-empty stage for a second before he turned his attention back to her. "You sure he won't mind? I mean don't they go on soon?"
"They've got plenty of time," she answered. "Come on, I'll take you back myself."
"I don't mind waiting," Cupid said, some of his buzz wearing off as it sunk in that she was actually offering to take him to Strife. He should have jumped at the chance; that was the whole reason he was there by himself, after all, but something about the way she kept smirking at him made him wonder what he was getting himself into. "I'm really just here to hear them play anyway."
"Sure you are." She smirked again and grabbed his arm, hauling him up out of his chair. "I'm Gabbie," she called over his shoulder as she dragged him through the crowd toward a door at the back of the club. "I'm the band's manager, I set up the gigs and stuff. Don't worry, it's totally cool if you go back."
Cupid wasn't at all sure he should believe her, but it seemed impolite to stop her when she seemed so determined to bring him directly to Strife. Suddenly the prospect of spending the night on his father's couch sounded like the best idea in the world, and he glanced mournfully in the direction of the front door of the club as Gabbie pushed him through the stage door and stepped through behind him. Less than thirty seconds later he was being half-shoved, half-guided through another door, and he blinked at the sudden change in light.
"Hey Strife," Gabbie said from behind him, and he glanced back at her long enough to register the return of her smirk. "Look who I found."
Cupid followed her gaze, taking in the amused and not-at-all-surprised expressions of the rest of the band before he forced himself to look at Strife. He looked exactly like Cupid remembered, all pale angles and bright blue eyes peering out at him from under a shock of dark hair. This time he was wearing some kind of chain metal thing that covered his chest but left his arms bare, and Cupid swallowed hard as he forced his gaze back up to those piercing blue eyes.
The room was too quiet, and for a second Cupid thought about turning and bolting out the door he'd just come through. Then someone cleared their throat and somebody else unsuccessfully stifled a snort of laughter, and Strife stood up and crossed the room. He didn't stop in front of Cupid, he didn't even say hello or 'what the fuck do you think you're doing?'. He just grabbed Cupid's arm and pushed him back in the direction of the door he'd just come through, guiding him out into the dimly lit hallway and slamming the door shut on his bandmates before he turned a glare on the other boy.