Who: Quetzalcoatl, Tezcatlipoca When: Valentine's Day! Where: Aztec sex den What: This is what you get for not eating Eros, guys
There was a Post-it note stuck to his ceiling. It read, in his handwriting: "Don't have sex with Tezcatlipoca today."
Quetzalcoatl blinked at it. Oh. Oh. What a ridiculous note. It had been too long since he'd seen Tezcatlipoca, and they needed to catch up.
There was another note stuck to the desktop lamp. "Don't do it."
Quetzalcoatl ignored that note, too, and started rifling through his closet. He wanted to look nice, but since he and Tezcatlipoca tended to express their affection a little...violently, it would be a good idea not to wear anything he was fond of.
Stuck to the closet door was another note: "You don't even like him. He's an ass. He eats people."
Quetzalcoatl was reasonably sure they could overcome those differences. It was Valentine's Day! Anything was possible.
He made a quick stop to the bathroom to check his hair (flawless) and shave. On the mirror was another note: "Please, go have sex with Xochiquetzal. She's nicer, and she's Tezcatlipoca's wife."
That did seem like a good idea, but getting to Tezcatlipoca seemed more important. Maybe Xochiquetzal wouldn't mind sharing? She didn't actually seem to like Tezcatlipoca, something she and Quetzalcoatl usually had in common.
On the bannister to the stairs was another note: "Huitzilopochtli will laugh at you. So will his hummingbirds."
There were dozens of similar notes scattered along the walls, and Quetzalcoatl ignored them all. The only one that got his attention was the one duct-taped to his cell phone that read: "I HATE YOU. I HATE MYSELF. I HATE THE GREEKS. FUCK THEM AND THEIR HORRIBLE PANTHEON. GO TO HIS HOUSE, AT LEAST."
Oh, that was actually an excellent idea. Quetzalcoatl had never actually been to Tezcatlipoca's house. He dialed Tezcatlipoca's number happily, smiling at nothing in particular.