A/N: Hello guys.

Audience: ~has formed an angry mob and is now looting and pillaging the Harry Potter section to its heart's content~ Rargh!

Uhm, yeah. Sorry that this chapter's extremely late. Especially after all the times I called QueenV on being this late. Heh...

Audience: ~waving torches, pitchforks and the head of some poor, decapitated Mary-Sue on a pole~ RARGH!

...You know what? I think I'll go write the chapter... yeah.

Praising the Chorus, Chapter Seven: In Which A lot of Gods Behave Rather Stupidly

It had been difficult convincing Thor that he needed to wear leather. It had been more difficult convincing the seamstresses he had hired (using David's military budget, natch) to leave the party and make him a pair of god-sized leather pants. It hade been harder still to drag the inebriated god from the party to somewhere more private where he could get changed.

But all that had nothing-NOTHING-on the troubles he was currently having trying to actually get the damned pants on the Norse god of thunder. The red bearded man, who could have squashed Christopher like a bug, was currently in a heap on the floor of the Olympus Motel 6, with both his legs stuck in one leg of the pants. The only thing keeping the blonde from collapsing with laughter was the ever-present danger of Thor smiting him with something. From what he'd heard, smiting was painful.

So instead, he knelt down and patiently explained to the god why there were two spots for his two legs. Although 'patiently' at that point in time meant something closer to 'not screaming too much at the nasty ass-kicking deity' than actual compassion. Of course, when Thor finally managed to put both legs in their correct spots, they discovered that he had also put the pants on backwards. It then turned out that leather pants are very difficult to get off once they have been put on. Christopher wondered if Jalil had noticed that yet and decided that he likely had at least three hours ago.

By the time they had finally managed to un-fuse the leather from the god's leg hair the sun was almost up. When the pants were finally on, the blonde almost fainted in relief. Then he handed Thor a black shirt. The Norseman promptly stuck his head through one of the arm holes. And Christopher started to wonder how any of the gods of Asgard had survived all this time without killing themselves every morning.

Finally, the god stood before him in all his leather-clad, fully dressed glory. At which point, the blonde kicked him out of the Motel 6 and went to steal the last of April's aspirin and get some sleep.

"General Davidius, I'm afraid this arrangement isn't going to work."

David groaned and opened his eyes to see Athena, Greek goddess of war and wisdom staring down at him, arms folded.

"First of all, it will create talk amongst your army. And secondly, I cannot use my desk when you are asleep on it."

The brown haired leader of the free (Ever)world sighed and swung himself off of the piece of furniture he had spent the night on. Athena bent over to inspect the damage he had done and snorted in dissatisfaction. "You also drooled all over my papers while you were sleeping."

David scowled. "I do not drool." In response, the goddess held up a wet piece of paper and pointed to the ink smeared across the teen's face. "Maybe a little bit..."

"Perhaps you should go back to your rooms." Athena suggested, "I believe there is a bed there. And sleeping in beds does not spread rumours involving my general succumbing to madness."

The teen's face fell at that. The Motel 6 meant just one thing: Christopher. Also know as the reason he had ended up sleeping in the personal office of a war goddess. After he had wandered aimlessly for most of the night, Athena's temple had seemed the only friendly place left in all of Olympus.

"Yeah... sounds like a good idea. Sure. I guess I'll see you later." He walked out of the temple with his shoulders slumped and a look of unfathomable discouragement on his face. With a sigh he turned and began the long trek back to his living quarters.

It was right about then that Thor, Norse god of thunder, and bearer of the hammer Miljonir ran by. In leather pants.

David Levin was the first to defend his manly image. He was very macho, very heroic. Which is why he did NOT scream like a little girl and run in the opposite direction while the favourite god of Asgard bellowed, "Hathor, I've got leather!"

Needless to say, he made it to the other side of Olympus in less than fifteen minutes. Unfortunately, even from the other side of the mountain, Thor's rumbling could still be heard. The god was starting to get rather graphic in his descriptions of what he would be doing with Hathor. These statements were often followed my the sounds of hundreds of people clapping their hands over their ears and screaming. Which was also what David was doing, coincidentally.

"And then, my loins shall..." Thor bellowed. Two hundred people fainted in shock. Many more took to drinking or making sacrifices. Of themselves. David began to bang his head against the nearest wall, yelling something which sounded vaguely like 'crimson and clover' and also a little like 'AUUUUGH NO GAH ICKY!'

It was right around then that Thor's wife showed up.

On the bright side, Seif-goddess of fertility and, currently, cheating husbands-did manage to shut up her husband. But the hundreds of relieved sighs heard all across the mountain were cut short as she began to yell in a way that only a jilted fertility goddess can. It sounded a little like Jerry Springer. Only with bullhorns for the participants.

It was about then that David decided to go get as drunk as was humanly possible.

"Yo ho, yo ho! A pirate's life for me!" Athena's general warbled, swaying on his barstool a little. "We'll get lotsa treasure and..." there was a long pause, "Something something something... A pirate's life for me!" On the table in front of the dark haired teen sat an empty bottle of what might have been rum. Next to him sat a rather dejected Egyptian goddess. Hathor's horns drooped a little as she took another swig from her own liquor bottle, then let out a very un-immortal belch.

"Thor's nothing but a cheating-urp-bashtard." The Egyptian informed the bar. "Did he tell me he wassssh married? Noooooooo. He's just a-a-"

"Bashtard?" David supplied.

"Thank you." She reached a hand across the table so they could shake, but misjudged the distance and pushed him off his stool instead. David yelped and hit the floor with a thud.

There was a moment of shocked silence and then the general, displaying a new talent for stating the obvious, wailed in an off-key voice, "I'm on the floor!" He then tried to stand up, but discovered that his legs weren't working properly and fell over again.

"You a'right down there?" Hathor slurred.

He nodded, waving a hand in her direction. "Jusssh fine. I'm good to go. All I need is just to hear a song I know..." he trailed off. "Oh shit."

It was that song again. That stupid, goddamned song. The one about red clover and falling in love in the evening and... stuff. He couldn't remember exactly what stuff at the moment. But it was bad stuff. Or something.

"Bar person!" He yelled, "I need more of those alcohol things over here!"

"A real bashtard, y'know?" Hathor said again. David nodded.

And there we go. The long awaited Chapter 7 is over.

Will Christopher ever get David back?

Will David ever remember all the words to the pirate song?

Will QuVe and I ever stop randomly inserting song lyrics in this?

As usual, all or none of these questions may or may not be answered by the next chapter of Praising the Chorus. Hopefully Q-chan is faster than I am...

-Duck-K