Work Text:
Retaliation
by Scribe
Scribe was puffing like a steam engine. If she'd been in the middle of a cuddle with her boyfriend, Jett, this would have been a good thing. She wasn't. She was in the process of being chased down by a very pissed off Love God.
"I swear," she shouted, "I had no idea he'd do it."
Cupid was gaining, arms outstretched. "You showed him Cyndi Lauper in the Halls of Time," he growled. "YOU KNOW BETTER!"
"Forgive me! I was in the mood to hear 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' and I didn't think!"
Cupid pounced, bringing her down. "You will next time, believe me. Hold still..."
*flutter* *giggle* *flutterflutter* *tittersnortgiggle* *FLUTTER* *BWHAA HAA HAA HAAAA...* "MERCY!" *flutter* *gaspgasp* "What did you do?" Scribe panted.
"Go ask Jett. I'm off to wash my hair--again."
Scribe hunted down Jett. The usually blase King of Assassins took one look at her and looked like he'd swallowed his gum. "What? Tell me! Am I covered in dirty word grafitti? Is there a battleship across my back? He didn't do anything where I could see it, and..."
"First off," said Jett. "What did you do, and what got done to you?"
"Cupid's pissed because I showed Strife Cyndi Lauper, then Strife waited till Cupid was asleep and put pink and blue streaks in his hair. Unfortunately he didn't use the 'comes out with one shampoo' thingy. Cupid hunted me down and painted me with some of his molted feathers. If I'd been wearing knickers, I probably would have wet them."
Jett looked interested. "No...?"
"No. Not till you tell me what the heck I look like."
"Actually, doll, I think that orange and green polka dots are becoming on you--but then I think you'd look good in a turnip sack."
"Orange polka--? HE DIDN'T! He knows very well that I spent eight hellish years working in a place where I had to wear an orange polka dotted smock that would have looked undignified on Bozo the Clown!" *grrrrr* *sigh* "I'd think up ways to retaliate, but it could escalate into a prank war that would make Strife overdose on mischief energy."
"Aw, don't be blue, babe..."
"Please, no color jokes."
"Come over here and let me smear your paint."
*Pause* "Okay, but I want to end up looking like something done by an impressionist by way of Jackson Pollock."
The End