Rating: M

Status: Complete (oneshot)

Summary: Ishiah's affection for Robin isn't unconditional. So when Robin makes a really, REALLY stupid mistake, what will it take to gain back his trust? Oneshot; swearing, some minor sexual content.

A/N: I like this fic quite a bit. It's mature without being tacky (or so I've been told), and who among the Thurman-reading world doesn't want Goodfellow and Ishiah to get together? Well, maybe the Niko-Robin shippers, but realistically speaking, the puck is NOT getting down Niko's workout sweats. *sigh* Poor, tormented immortal soul. Anyway, steamy reading ahead!

Olive-tinted skin rubbed against him, and that strange, tantalizing smell of the sun's warmth and the earth's power graced his senses. Robin shivered in delight, running his tongue delicately around a smooth-muscled waistline. Skilled fingers carefully handled the button of the peri's pants, and Robin looked up at him, hardly believeing it was true. It was too good to be true.

"Robin…" Ishiah breathed, his eyes clouded with a craving he hadn't shown for decades. "If you're lying about this, damn you – "

"Shut up," the puck responded, finishing with the button.

"I'm not kidding, Robin."

"I told you to shut up," Robin said, standing, pushing Ishiah back against the wall, nipping his neck. Ishiah groaned into Robin's hair, letting his hands roam around Goodfellow's body until they found the perfect resting places…one in the crook of his back, clawing desperately, the other curled around Robin's torso, fingers resting in the crook of his neck. The puck rubbed their midsections together, and goose bumps broke out over Ishiah's skin.

"You'd better have meant it…"

"I did…" Robin groaned, dragging Ishiah down to the floor.

"You'd better…"

…

It started with a trip to Greece.

Well, not exactly. It started three nights before the trip, but Goodfellow wasn't particularly inclined towards details this time. For once, there was no long, sex-filled story behind his actions. Robin didn't say why, what prompted it, or anything of the sort. He just packed up a couple suitcases, and told the Leandros boys that he'd be in his homelands for an indefinite amount of time. He knew they would assume something that would cover his ass – he was getting nostalgic and wanted to see what became of Greece, he'd been invited to an overseas orgy, something like that…

…but what he really needed was to talk to a very old friend.

Back in the old days, he'd have sent a falcon to tell her he was arriving, but they had both changed with the times. A cell phone call did the trick this time around, and she was all too happy to get the message. The place just wasn't the same without him, she said.

Which was all well and good for her, but Robin…well, he was a wreck. He was grateful Cal and Niko didn't accompany him to the airport; they would have asked what was wrong, and he really didn't feel like explaining himself to them. The ride in the plane was spent fidgeting and chewing nervously on a packet of airline peanuts. He got a few odd looks, and at one point, a stewardess suggested that the snack might taste better and be easier to chew if he took it out of the package first. Robin laughed in response, thanked her for the advice, and promised to see if it was true on the flight back to New York City…then went right back to gnawing on the plastic packaging.

He finally started thinking coherently again when the pilot said they were landing.

Once safe, Robin grabbed his carry-on and walked out of the plane, eyes scanning for a sign of his friend. Fortunately, she wasn't hard to miss. Long, chocolate-brown hair trailed all the way down to her bottom; bouncing, wavy bangs were barely held at bay by a slim headband. She wore lavender, just like she always used to – though the toga had been replaced by a pastel purple shirt and low-rise, hip-hugging jeans. Heels boosted her height by about two inches, and she was still almost a foot shorter than Goodfellow. Her most striking feature, however, was her eyes. A vivid, burning gold, they sparkled like fireworks even in the drab lighting of the airport. Upon seeing Robin, she held out her arms and said happily, "Robin, you old scamp!"

"Ariel!" he said, holding his arms open in a similar fashion. She threw herself at him, and were she much taller, Robin would have been smothered in her ample cleavage. Yet for once, he didn't seem to enjoy it – well, not nearly as much as he should have. "How have you been?"

"Screw my story. I'm a little more worried about you," she pressed. "No groping, no comments about how they're yet another cup size bigger…don't tell me one of your enemies finally caught up with you and gave you the Bob Barker treatment?"

Robin snorted. "I'd sooner bite off my own tongue than allow someone to castrate me. You of all people should know that life without sex just isn't worth living." Her expression became concerned; his words were lacking in energy and sincerity. "We'll go get my luggage and I'll tell you all about it in the car, okay?"

'Ariel' nodded sternly. "You've got a nasty big problem, boy-o, and I want to help." She took his hand and led him over to the baggage claim. A thirty-minute wait finally yielded two large, high-end brand bags stuffed almost to bursting. Upon seeing the cases he packed, her eyes widened in shock. "Gama mou, Goodfellow, are you visiting or moving?" she asked quietly.

"Don't call me that until we're alone; I'm sure someone here besides you remembers me. And I'm just visiting…for a long time. Hopefully long enough for my problem to become less of a problem."

"Right. Quick, let's get to my car and you can tell me why you've run back to the good old Greeklands."

She seized his suitcases and, despite their magnificent weight, lifted them as if they weighed nothing. She led him outside into a bright and unforgiving sun. Across the parking lot was a sleek convertible. She quickly made her way to it. Once she was certain they were alone, she hopped into the car, pulled Robin in, and crossed her arms, "All right, Robin, what did you do this time?"

"Aphrodite, I – " he began.

"Don't give me the huge, long story. You always loved doing that. Get straight to the point."

Robin arched an eyebrow. "The colors haven't changed, but the girl sure has. I recall you being more catty than forceful," he said admiringly. "You've gone from kitten to tiger. Your husband must be thrilled."

"Yeah, right. I'm like this because of him." She snorted and turned the key in the ignition. A low purr came from the engine as the car warmed to life. "You try living married to that pathetic cripple Hephaestus. If I'm not forceful, nothing gets done."

"Which reminds me, whatever happened with Ares?"

As Aphrodite pulled the car out of her spot, her eyes darkened. "I got caught banging with him one too many times and spent the better part of a century with a chastity belt that hubby dearest had charmed to only open during certain events."

"Let me guess," Robin said, "bathroom breaks and sex with him."

"Give the puck a freakin' kewpie doll. Well, anyway, Ares got tired of waiting for me to be accessible again and moved to some other country. Last I checked, he was some Valkyrie's bitch."

"Ares? Someone's bitch?"

"He likes it."

Robin nodded. "Ah, a slave-and-master relationship. Fun until you want to switch roles."

"I'm sure. Anyway," she continued, pulling out of the parking structure and into the street, "this wasn't supposed to be about my smutty stories. It's about you, remember? Why you're here – the Cliff Notes version, if you please."

Robin sighed and rested his elbows on the dashboard, rubbing his temples. "I…um…" he began.

"Stuttering doesn't become you, Robin. Out with it."

Robin looked at her, verdant eyes a swirl of confusion and stress. "I slept with Ishiah."

Aphrodite swerved into a side street and punched the brakes with her heel. "You what? Really?! Dang, it's about time, don't cha think?"

"This is my problem, Aphrodite! Meaning this is what's stressing me out!"

"You finally got it on with the peri you've been chasing for centuries! What could possibly be wrong with this picture?"

Robin slammed his forehead against the dashboard and dug his nails into his knees. "You know his condition for being with me! He wanted commitment! That hasn't changed in the past three hundred years, and…well, I told him that I would…but…"

Aphrodite stared. "You told him you'd be faithful?"

"…look, I know it was stupid, but you can't even imagine..!! I'd been drinking, and I hadn't had sex for months…and you should have seen what he was wearing! He was in one of the barkeep's outfits and…gods, you haven't lived until you've seen that man in a uniform…" Robin groaned and started rubbing his temples again. "I don't know what to do. On the one hand is my overwhelming love of sex, but…well, he was angry enough at me before. If I go back to New York and tell him that I'm not living up to my word, he'll probably butcher me where I stand."

Aphrodite pulled against the curb, stopped the car, and glared at him. "I don't care how drunk you were, that was just plain stupid. Everyone knows that you're nearly incapable of keeping it in your pants. And there's no point in wishing you didn't say it, because you did."

Robin winced in response to how blunt and unforgiving she was. "…well, I did come to you for brutal advice in the aspect of love…"

"You came to the right goddess. Here's the deal – you've already had sex with him. And in order to do that, you met his conditions, which, in this case, means you have to give up on your philandering, carefree ways. I'm sure he'd like to see more than just faithfulness; he'd probably appreciate some responsibility in other aspects of your life as well."

"Hey, I've got my own job!" Robin protested. "I make my own money!"

"Yes. And you drink like a fish, expect everything to work for your favor, and have so many little black books you need an entire shelf for them. Now, you've got two choices: fall back into your normal ways, break his heart, and probably suffer some serious bodily damage at the hands of righteous peri wrath…or actually try to do what you promised you would while in your half-drunken stupor."

"Give up on all my current partners in New York City for him?"

"Is he worth it?" Aphrodite countered.

Robin shifted and muttered something.

"You know he is. Why are you so scared of giving up on orgies?"

"What, was the shagging not good enough for you?"

"Don't be crazy," Robin grumbled. "The man fucks like an animal. I can't remember the last time my hips and back hurt after sex."

The goddess blinked. "One more time: you like him. When you're not being an idiot, he likes you. The sex is good. Maybe it's the sizzling Greek sun, maybe it's too many olives, but seriously, I fail to see the problem here."

"He's asking me to change everything! And I know I've been after him for ages, and I know it's worth it, but for some reason, I just can't convince myself that that's true, okay?!" Robin wrung his hands in a panic. "I'm confused, okay? More than anything, I'm just confused."

Aphrodite sighed. "Did you come here for advice, or did you come here to ask me to un-confuse you?"

"If you're offering to sleep with me, I'm flattered and tempted, but won't Hephaestus kill me?"

Aphrodite snorted and started the car back up. "Well, we're going back to my place, but don't get your hopes up. I've done you once, and I've still got the scratch marks to prove it; I'm thinking of something that'll be a slightly more permanent solution to your stupidity."

"…oh?"

"Yeah. Don't worry, it won't hurt. Just a little something I stole from Cupid."

"Oh, that's where it went?"

"Mm-hm."

Robin looked around the house as Aphrodite let him in. "I'm home, Heph," she called out.

Robin glanced over towards the television, where a rather rugged and unattractive blonde sat in a wheelchair. He looked up at Aphrodite and rolled his eyes. "Never 'honey.' Never 'darling' or 'husband' or anything like that. 'Heph' is the closest I'll ever get to a term of endearment, isn't it?"

"Duh. I'm less a partner and more of a hostile takeover, and you know it."

"But you're still my wife." Hephaestus suddenly noticed Robin, and his eyes narrowed in dark recognition. "What is that voracious, sex-starved satyr doing here?" he asked angrily. "If you think for one minute I'm just going to stand by while you – "

"I think you mean 'sit by,' darling," Aphrodite said curtly. "And calm down. He's staying here in the living room. I have to go get the Crystal Heart."

Hephaestus' eyes widened. "That thing? You haven't actually regulated love among the non-gods for…well, I think it's been close to five thousand years now."

Aphrodite chuckled a bit. "He needs it." Still seeing a jealous glint in her husband's eyes, she turned to Goodfellow. "Robin, keep an eye on him. If he starts fiddling around with a metal belt with no buckle or keyhole, cut off his hands."

Robin sat uncomfortably next to Hephaestus, who looked him up and down before saying, "Why would she dig out the Crystal Heart for you?"

"…I did something really stupid."

"Of course you did. You're a puck. That doesn't answer my question."

Robin flinched angrily before responding, "I'm not answerable to you. You're barely a god."

Hephaestus' eyes flared and he reached out to strangle Robin…

…when Aphrodite returned. A white gold chain, so thin it was almost like fishing line, was wound around her arm. It made its way to her wrist, where it turned into something resembling a slave bracelet. Instead of a wrought metal charm or a dream-catcher pattern on the back of her hand, however, there was a small, intricate crystal heart. The point of it ran down to her middle finger, where it quickly turned into a fine point. Aphrodite blew some dust off it, then looked at Robin. "You remember what this does?"

"Nope. I'll go ask Cupid, just to be sure." He rolled his eyes. "Of course I remember. That's his 'arrow.'"

She rolled her eyes. "Always the smartass." She calmly walked over, then pressed her middle finger against Robin's forehead. The puck's eyes instantly glazed, and his breathing stilled until they could barely see his chest move.

Aphrodite looked like a completely different woman. Despite her height, she stood as if she were ten feet tall. Her expression was stern as she looked at Robin and asked in a soft, strong voice, "Ishiah. What do you think of Ishiah?"

Robin seemed weakened by the question. He looked almost dreamy as he responded, "He's incredible…to have put up with me for so long…to still want to be with me even though I'm nothing but a dog looking for his next bitch…"

She smiled. "I thought so. Is he worth sacrificing your lifestyle for, Robin Goodfellow?"

"…yes. He's worth it. But that's because he deserves better than me."

"Ishiah is not interested in better than you, Robin. He's interested in you."

"I…I know…"

She nodded. After a moment, she looked as if she was going to remove her hand, but reconsidered and asked, "How long did you plan on staying here?"

"A month at most."

"Why?"

"…I…I wanted him to calm down."

"And do you think he will, Robin?"

"…he'll be furious that I left. He'll know I didn't mean what I said."

"But he'll know when you return anyway, because you'll have to tell him."

"I know."

"Then don't you think you should go back now?"

Robin nodded. "Yes. It's the better of the two choices, isn't it?"

She took her hand away. "There. That's what you needed to know."

Robin frowned and rubbed his forehead. "I hate that thing. I sound like a drooling idiot."

"No, Goodfellow, you say what you need to hear…and isn't that what you came here for?"

"…yes," he sighed.

"Good. Now go home, Robin," Aphrodite said, kissing his forehead where the point of the crystal had rested. "And I really wish you the best of luck."

"Thanks. I'll need it."

Ishiah slammed a fist over Robin's face. "You son of a bitch. I knew you were lying and I still let you do it!" he roared. "I still let you sleep with me!" He was wearing the same outfit, Robin noticed. The barkeep's outfit again…Robin ran a hand over his eye, but said nothing.

Why does it always have to be the face? he thought glumly.

"What do you have to say for yourself?!" Ishiah demanded, every feather bristled.

"…I'm sorry…"

"You damn well should be!" he growled. He raised a fist to strike Robin again. "You lying – "

The puck lifted his arms in defense. "I can try, I can try!!" he yelped frantically, desperate not to get another blow to his face.

Ishiah looked like he was about to yell again, but his arm dropped and he stared angrily. "You can try, huh?" he asked. "There should be no 'try.' You should never have told me you'd be willing to give up in the first place. I don't like being lied to, Robin."

"I'm…I'm sorry, Ishiah…" Robin said weakly.

Ishiah looked him up and down, his fists still clenched. Finally, his hands relaxed and he growled, "I know you are. And that's why I'm not going to kill you for what you've done." He backed up and leaned against the wall, clearly still angry, but now controlled. "I expect you to try. I want to see you turning people down and drinking in moderation, do you understand?"

Robin felt completely frustrated, yet he nodded. "Okay."

"I can't say I've got a high expectation for your success, but do me a favor." He leaned forward, and for a split second, his lips brushed against Robin's. Robin leaned forward to deepen the kiss, but Ishiah pulled back promptly. Robin fell forward, but regained his balance in time to stop himself from looking stupid. "Prove me wrong."

He started to leave the room they had been arguing in. Robin looked up at the peri as he left, calling after him, "Ishiah!"

Ishiah turned to regard him.

"…does that mean I'm forgiven?" he asked.

Ishiah's lips turned up in a cryptic smile. "Guess."

He left. Robin felt his stomach twist. Was he relieved? Horrified? Happy? There would really be no telling until Ishiah came to him again…

…

Ishiah collapsed against him, his breath steaming up the empty wine glass beside them. Robin groaned happily and pulled away, not caring that his skin was beaded with sweat, far too happy with the night's activities. He reached for the bottle again, only to have Ishiah push it away with his fingertips. It rolled across the carpeted floor.

Robin looked at Ishiah. "Hey, you…" he mumbled, running his hands over Ishiah's hipbones, gently kissing the scar on his cheekbone. "…I was going to pour us some of that."

"We don't need it," Ishiah said, his voice little more than a contented rumble.

Robin looked up. "Don't we?" he asked curiously.

Ishiah shook his head. Robin noted that his hair was a beautiful, tangled mess of blonde. Gods, the man was gorgeous. "I like you better when you're sober, Robin," Ishiah said softly. "You don't need booze to be a likeable person."

"Everyone else likes me drunk," Robin said.

"I like you sober."

Robin looked at him for a moment, stunned by his insistence. Then he laughed and pushed the bottle back into the kitchen, looking at Ishiah happily. "Hm. Keep me away from alcohol, then."

"I'm trying."

"Keep nights like this up," Robin said, looking down at the plane of Ishiah's chest and licking his lips, "and you'll have me off booze by the end of the year."

They laughed. It was a soft laughter, but to Ishiah, it meant the world.

And though he wasn't ready to admit it, it meant the world to Robin, too.