Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He should have known this would all go tits up when he heard the client’s story. 

Killed by a cult in the backwoods of Who The Fuck Cares, USA was one thing, but killed by a Christian cult, aka the worst fuckin kind of cult in the Western Hemisphere? Let’s just say that Blitz was looking forward to getting revenge for the poor woman, and had packed extra guns just for the fun of it.

However, it seemed as though it still wasn’t enough.

It had been him and Moxxie, insisting that two against three targets would make the game more interesting… however-

“Why the fuck do they have assault rifles!?” Blitz shouted as they ducked under a barrage of fire. Behind them were the three targets, each about as much of a physical threat as a fifty pound bulldog with asthma, but carrying guns that could flatten a schoolbus full of children. 

“We’re in Mississippi, Sir!” Moxxie shouted back. “It’d be more surprising if they didn’t have assault rifles!”

From behind them, Blitz heard a heavily accented voice that somehow sounded like it had adult acne and had never had a conversation with a woman in its whole pathetic existence. “Rebuke, demons, for our Lord will smite thee!” It made Blitz want to vomit.

“Fuckin’ gross,” he mumbled, mildly consoled by the thought that, although their weapons were entirely too powerful, the losers at least had shitty aim. A bullet whizzed through the air near his head and he was suddenly yanked sideways, Moxxie grabbing him by the arm and pulling the two of them behind a nearby boulder.

The gunshots continued for a moment longer before the biggest and ugliest of the three guys, probably the leader of whatever pathetic incel bullshit this was, shouted for them to hold their fire. 

For a few, impossibly slow seconds, there was complete silence, save for the occasional snapping of a twig. He shot Moxxie a look, hand reaching for their artillery bag, laser-focused-

The silence was broken by the blaring of his phone in his pocket, the ringtone slicing through the quiet and, just fuckin’ perfectly, giving away their position.

The next second, the ringtone was accompanied by the dulcet sounds of gunfire.

Moxxie immediately jumped into action, grabbing the closest gun and firing back with every iota of his sharpshooter nature. Blitz grabbed for the phone, fumbling with it for a moment as he willed it to shut the fuck up-

He froze when he saw the caller ID. 

Wrld’s Sexiest Sekretary (Stols Wurk Fone) 

And Satan’s Taint was he fuckin’ whipped because he answered the damn phone immediately. 

Donning the most convincing casual voice anyone ever conjured that was absolutely convincing and not strained at all, he said, “Heeeeeey, Stolaaas! How’s it going?”

“Um, hello,” Stolas’ nervous, soft voice came from the other end, and Blitz had to stomp the lightness in his chest right the fuck back down, first and foremost because it was lame, and secondly because they were currently in a vicious firefight. 

“Have I caught you at a bad time?” he asked tentatively.

“Sir, help!!!” Moxxie shouted over at him. Blitz let out a frustrated noise before wedging the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could dig in his bag for the Big Guns. 

“Nope, not a bad time,” he answered with what he hoped sounded like an easy cheer, pulling out a sawed-off shotgun. “What can I do ya for?”

Back in the office, Stolas sat behind the desk, staring at the office, mostly empty save for Loona typing away on her phone with barely a care in the world, and twirled the phone cord nervously with his free hand. 

“Well, I’m,” He coughed slightly. “I’m afraid there’s been something of an… incident here at the office.”

“Is everyone okay?” Blitz’s urgent question was punctuated by a loud BANG from the other end of the line. Stolas winced at the noise, pulling the phone away slightly.

“Are you sure you’re available to talk right now?” he replied nervously. “I can always call back.”

Gunfire flew over Blitz’s head as he held the phone in one hand while firing round after round with the other from their Absolutely Fantastic Point of Refuge Behind a Fucking Rock.

“Positive, now tell me what happened,” he bit, trying not to sound as urgent as he was feeling. “Everyone’s fine?”

“Yes, we’re fine,” replied Stolas. “The good news is that Loona is doing a wonderful job in her new role as I.M.P.’s Security Officer.” 

Ugh. Damn bird’s stupid pretty voice was distracting and it was making Blitz have shitty aim. He watched as a round of fire bounced off some trees, hitting various other branches, the forest floor, and some unsuspecting Earth Sparrows. He grimaced.

“Yeah, yeah, Looney’s fantastic.” The shotgun jammed, and he tossed it over his shoulder before grabbing two pistols out of his bag, almost at random, and tossed on to Moxxie, who caught it with ease. “I’m guessing that’s not the incident, though.”

“Well,” Stolas continued. “Do you recall the client from last week who wanted revenge on his wife who poisoned him?” 

“Less hot Frankenstein, yeah I remember.” He attempted to keep a calm demeanor as he tried to get a shot off on one of these losers, and watched with deep satisfaction as a round from Moxxie’s pistol finally connected with one of their skulls where it poked out from its hiding spot behind a tree. One down. “Nice one Mox!”

“Any time!” Moxxie cheerfully called back.

“He came into the office demanding a full refund,” Stolas’ voice rang from the phone. 

“Refund?!” Blitz barked back, forgetting his rather dire situation momentarily. He was reminded when a smattering of pellets made contact a hair too close to his arm. He promptly resumed shooting at the fuckers. “Why the fuck does he want a refund? We killed his bitch wife no problem.”

Stolas looked over as the office door opened as Millie walked in, smiling and holding a tray of coffees which she’d offered to pick up for all of them. 

“Well, that’s the issue,” he explained. “It seems that, although she was successfully killed-” a pause as Millie handed him his soy latte. “-Thank you, Mildred. It seems that, although the wife was successfully killed, she didn’t actually end up in Hell. Apparently, poisoning him was considered a great service to humanity… He was rather upset about it.”

“So, wait,” Blitz replied, letting Moxxie shoot at them for a few seconds while he dug around once more to see what other treasures he’d packed and immediately forgotten about. “You’re saying that the guy was such a massive dickbag that murdering him got her into heaven?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Blitz, despite everything, managed to find a second to grimace as he pondered the weight of the moral quandary before him. He then spoke definitively. “Wow. I’m gonna take about five minutes to feel bad about killing her later.” He was then snapped out of it by the distinct sounds of Righteous Hick Shouting and resumed shooting once more.

“And I’m afraid that’s not all…”

Stolas sat up straighter, the worst part of the news on the tip of his tongue. “Loona was able to get him out of the building, of course, but, ah… do you recall those stories you told me about your bad luck with your office’s window?”

“Y-yeah…?”

Stolas stared over at the jagged mess of metal and glass that had once been the leftmost window of the office.

He swallowed. “Well, I’ve now witnessed it first hand.”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?!” Blitz paused to yank a grenade launcher from the bag, which he tossed over to Moxxie, who looked bewildered for a second before a wide smirk crept onto his face. But Blitz was too busy being annoyed to celebrate with him. “We had just gotten to three months without an incident with that window, that’s the longest we’ve gone! The fuckin’ insurance company is gonna be on my ass again. Ugh, tell Looney to reset the counter.”

“Yes, well, it got me thinking-“

Stolas scratched at the feathers on the back of his neck before continuing. “This was a rather unfortunate oversight on our part, and considering that I.M.P.’s business is only growing, it might be a good idea to create some sort of contract for clients to sign. It could help us deter future disputes and ah…” he pulled at neckline of his sweater nervously, “maybe help us screen clients a bit better. I’m obviously no lawyer, but I’ve read about contract law here and there and I think I could draft something up… That is, if you’d be willing to let me-”

Suddenly, there was a panicked shout of, “They’ve got grenades!” by an unfamiliar voice, followed by a loud explosion and cartoonish screams that came through staticky and blown out. 

“Blitz?” Stolas called. “Are you alright?”

“HA! Did you see his face?! That’s two out of three, damn Mox, leave some for the rest of us!”

“You’re the one on the phone!!!” Moxxie’s shout reached Stolas’ ears. 

A half-second later, Blitz’s voice rang clear again. “Anyway, you were saying?”

”Do you… think it’s a good idea?” he asked tentatively. 

Blitz smirked as he loaded the chamber of his favorite pistol. “Fuck yeah I do, you’re great with all that fancy words bullshit, and I’d love to never have to deal with people asking for refunds ever again.”

“Or kill an innocent woman by mistake,” Moxxie deadpanned over from his hiding spot. 

Blitz’s shoulders slumped and he grimaced. “Yeah, that too.”

“I can get started right away.” And now, despite the complaints that Moxxie wasn’t giving him a piece of the action, and despite the fact that there was still one bloodthirsty religious nut a hundred feet away, Blitz was struck dumb by the tone of Stolas’ voice. 

His favorite ex-prince had gone through what could scientifically be called ‘a whole fuckin lot’ lately. Since getting his meds back, he’d evened out quite a bit, but this was perhaps the first time since his banishment that his voice held traces of his signature enthusiasm, muted, but still there. Once upon a (shitty) time, Blitz had acted put out whenever Stolas would get excited about something, but he now knew that his prior chagrin was a front, put there because he couldn’t let himself be endeared in any way, lest he walk down a dangerous path. 

Well. Too fuckin late for that now. 

He finally managed to shake himself from his stupor, deciding to spend an additional five minutes later reflecting on how utterly stupid he was for this damn bird. “Just don’t make it too many pages or no one’s gonna read it.”

“I’m afraid it will be at least a few. From what I know, indemnification clauses can be quite complicated.”

“You’re hot when you talk legal terms,” he teased, feeling a smirk grow on his face as he peaked over the rock, phone in one hand, pistol in the other, looking for that last bastard. 

He tried not to be too distracted when Stolas voice turned teasing and - Blitz could dream - just a little bit sultry. “I believe that’s an HR violation.”

“Bitch, I am HR.” 

“Technically I’m HR, Sir,” Moxxie chimed in. 

“When the fuck did that happen,” Blitz asked, bemused. 

Moxxie leveled him with an unimpressed stare. “When you didn’t want to do any of the paperwork.”

The next second, Blitz saw movement in his periphery. Instinct took over as he took aim and fired, bullet flying before it connected squarely with the head of the last Hickory Hucking FUCKER that they had to deal with that day. 

“HA! That’s fuckin’ right, BITCH!!!” 

He turned to give Moxxie the bitchin-est high five he could muster, and the two began throwing their arsenal back in its bag, eager to get the fuck out of dodge. It only took a few seconds before we was giving the Asmodean crystal a cursory rub. 

“Sounds like it went well,” Stolas remarked. “Will you be back soon?”

And because he had the best fucking timing and a sense of flair to match, he tossed the packed bag at Moxxie as the portal back to the office opened and promptly jumped through, executing a fancy dive roll for good measure. 

When he popped to his feet, he heard the sound of Moxxie stumbling through the portal with the bag behind him, promptly followed by the sound of the portal closing. But he didn’t bother looking because, in front of him, Stolas sat behind the desk, still holding the office phone, looking bemused. 

“You know it,” Blitz answered smoothly before finally hanging up his phone. 

And maybe it was the high of a job well done, or delusion, or the way Stolas had sounded almost happy at the prospect of writing up a fucking contract like that’s not the most boring thing Blitz could ever think of, seriously, what a weird, wonderful fucker he was. No matter the cause, he found he couldn’t quite fight the impulse to jump up on the desk and slide smoothly until he was perched on Stolas’ side of the desk, not touching, but perhaps too close to be deemed office appropriate. 

“So,” he started as Stolas hung up the phone with that smile of his that was awkward in a particularly adorable way. “We finished a mission, you survived your first shitty customer service interaction…”

Stolas cut in, tone sheepish. “Oh, it was nothing. I’ve endured much worse.”

“Well. That’s concerning,” Blitz remarked, knowing exactly the type of personal history that comments like that could stem from. He pressed on. “But I’m sayin’ we should celebrate! How about the place down the street that serves soup dumplings?”

“Uh. Sir?”

Really, Moxxie??? Couldn’t he see Blitz was busy committing more HR violations right now? He whipped his head around. “What, Mox-?! Oh.”

Across the room, what was once the far window was now a jagged hole, roughly the size of a less-hot Frankenstein. Next to it sat Loona, who looked up from her phone, shrugged, and then went right back to scrolling.

Blitz blinked. Right. He’d forgotten. Well. There went his dinner date budget. “Oh Satan fuckin’ Dammit!!!!”

Chapter Text

“How the ffffuck does anyone get anywherrrre without portals?!” Stolas exclaimed. “Walking takes forever! ” 

“Another prime feature on your new subscription to lower class living,” Blitz responded with a small smirk, guiding his very drunk bird gently though the apartment door by the waist. “Shit’s inconvenient.”

Stolas made a wholly undignified groan, and trudged into the living room, footfalls heavy and uncoordinated.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and a message from Loona flashed across the screen.

Looney

Tex texted after you guys left the bar. Party at Bee’s place. Don’t wait up.

Blitz typed a quick reply. 

B safe. Lemme kno if u need pickuhp.

Looney

K

Thnx 

Make sure your boyfriend doesn’t throw up on the couch.

Blitz grimaced. Said… well, whatever they were… was slouching toward the couch, grabbing onto it and leaning against the back with the exaggerated sigh of someone who had had two long islands and barely any dinner. Even half-dead drunk, he managed to make it look graceful.

He had seen Stolas drink plenty of times before. A fancy cocktail or two on their full moon rendezvous, an extra one when he’d had a particularly difficult day with his ex-wife, Blitz even remembered him chugging a bottle of absinthe with reckless abandon the first night they’d hooked up. It was all relatively normal behavior. Even the conspicuously overfilled glass of wine on the poolside table the morning after their breakup, when Blitz had tried - and miserably failed - to make things right with the prince. Sometimes people had 9AM breakfast wine, it wasn’t that weird.

But lately, he’d been noticing other little variations on the theme. They’d gone out for drinks after work with I.M.P. a few times now and Stolas had managed to overdo it to varying degrees every time. He wouldn’t get sloppy or obnoxious, but he’d go a little too hard for casual drinks on a Tuesday evening. 

Well, this time it was Friday, meaning the team had set out to have some good old fashioned not-work-appropriate fun. And Blitz, at this point, was trained into reading into Stolas’ little oddities and behaviors, and something told him that a lifetime of being conditioned to act polite plus years of high class society soirees and other various fancy bullshit meant that Stolas was probably an expert in the art of appearing less drunk than he actually was.

No one could ever accuse Blitz of being a buzzkill, but he was starting to worry.

“You want a glass of water?” he asked casually, tossing his keys and jacket on the table. 

“Thought I was your tall drink of water.” The tipsy little pout he gave did Various Things to Blitz the likes of which he’d been deliberately suppressing in the few months since Stolas had come to live with them.

“You- hey,” he said intelligently, face growing hot. 

Stolas let out a whine that was far too similar to other whines Blitz had heard from him in the past, and the next moment he sank to his knees and Blitz half caught him as Stolas threw himself into an embrace. 

“ Blitzyyy ,” he groaned drunkenly into the spot where his neck met his shoulder, and Blitz was grateful that the lighting in here was dim because he was sure his face was redder than Pride’s sky right now. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Blitz’s chest fluttered and he wrapped his arms tighter around Stolas, fingers stroking through the feathers at the back of his head. “Me too.”

But then he realized the implications of what he had said and shit- FUCK!

“I mean,” he backtracked, trying and failing not to sound awkward. “I’m not glad for any of the awful shit you’ve been going through, that’s not what I- I just meant that, I’m glad that you’re- wait, shit, let me start over.”

But Stolas seemed to be unswayed, breathing the words, “You don’t have to,” before detaching himself from Blitz’s neck so that he could pull him into a kiss.

Blitz froze for a half second before the alcohol in his own system loosened his muscles, and he allowed himself to enjoy the feeling, just for a moment. 

Stolas pushed at him gently, and before he could think better of it, the two of them slowly melted onto the floor, Blitz on his back, his hands tangling further in those delicate grey feathers. 

Opportunities to kiss Stolas had been woefully few and far between in the time since he’d been living here. And that was, frankly, fucking understandable considering what he’d been dealing with. Blitz had been deliberately putting any remotely sexual thoughts to the side in light of The Everything of it all. Despite the fact that he longed for it, daydreamed about it, keened for it in his sleep, all of it paled in comparison to how much Blitz wanted him to get better. How much he wanted to atone for any hurt he’d put him through in the past. Still, there was a part of him that reeled, elated and relieved that Stolas could still be like this with him.

Blitz’s silent reverie was abruptly cut off when Stolas’ hands started to wander to decidedly non-teenage-hanky-panky areas, and with an effort that almost physically pained him, Blitz pulled away.

“Hey,” he managed. “We really shouldn’t. You’ve had enough alcohol to get Beezelbub drunk.”

“Psssh, I’m fffine,” Stolas outright slurred before letting out a rather cartoonish hiccup. An additional protest died on Blitz’s tongue as Stolas leaned back in, nipping at his neck. “You’re so good to me, Blitz…” Fucking fuck his voice sounded like velvet. “Let me be good to you…”

And with that, he needed to snap the fuck out of it before he made any more terrible decisions. He grabbed at Stolas shoulders firmly, shoving him away and holding him there so he could look at him. “Whoa! Hey! I mean it! Nothin’ fucky when you’re this drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk!” Stolas snapped with an extraordinarily drunken, petulant whine. “Lucifer, what are you? My fucking nanny?”

Blitz glared at him. “We never discussed a safeword for that, so no . Now get your feathered ass on that couch, I’m gonna get you a glass of water.”

Stolas made a particularly undignified noise of protest, but moved off of him to fight his way upright once more before stumbling and flopping onto the couch. Blitz realized several seconds later as he filled the glass from the tap that something in Stolas’ psyche still tended to obey at the sound of Blitz’s Authoritative Voice. Blitz then immediately engaged in the laborious multitasking nightmare that was trying to tell his dick to calm the fuck down while also simultaneously trying not to feel like an awful fucking person for his dick’s shenanigans.

Stolas had managed to pull himself into a slumped, but still mostly upright, position on the couch. When Blitz offered it, he took the glass of water in both hands and proceeded to chug all of it, which Blitz supposed was for the best. 

But Stolas didn’t hand back the empty glass immediately, choosing instead to stare into the bottom of it as though it held answers he were desperately seeking. 

Blitz reached to gently take the glass from his hands. “Do you want another one?”

Stolas didn’t look at him. “Do you remember the night we went to Ozzie’s?” 

Blitz froze, guilt hitting him like a ton of bricks. Well, this conversation officially couldn’t get any worse. 

“What you said that night… I think about it all the time.”

How the fuck did it get worse that quickly?

Stolas went on before Blitz had too many seconds to spiral. “You said that all I wan…* hic* all I wanted from you was sex. But that’s not true. It’s never been true! I’ve always…and I thought… uggghhhh I why am I so fucking stupid?” He trailed off on a frustrated noise, hand coming up to drunkenly smack at his own forehead with a force that concerned Blitz immediately. 

“Hey, hey! No taking any of your eyes out either, okay?” Blitz’s grabbed at his wrist to pull the hand away from his face and pried the glass from Stolas’ other hand before it could be used as a self-inflicting weapon. “Listen, we can talk about…. everything… when you’re sober, alright?” 

“Why don’t you want me anymore?”

Blitz promptly dropped the empty glass while choking on absolutely nothing. The low height of the fall plus the cushion of the carpet meant the glass didn’t break, which was a good thing because he couldn’t pay attention to that right now because what the fuck?!  

“W- What?! Why-?” he exclaimed before catching himself and deliberately evening his tone. “Why would you think that?”

“I suppose I don’t blame you,” Stolas slurred dismally, and a wave of abject horror washed over Blitz at how choked his voice sounded. Stolas refused to meet his gaze, eyes downcast. “I wouldn’t want me either with the way I’ve been… just everything lately.”

“That’s not…” Blitz let out a frustrated sigh. Absent of anything more meaningful or better to do, he grabbed Stolas’ other hand as well, thumbs stroking circles into the soft down as his mind struggled to find the words. “That’s not it, alright? I do want-“ He paused to cringe at himself, but deliberately dragged himself back from the impulse to say nevermind, and throw himself out the window instead. “I do want you, okay? But I just… you’ve been going through a ton of shit lately and I just… I want you to feel safe. I didn’t want you to think I only wanted you here… for that.”

“I didn’t think that.” Stolas’ eyes were glassy in the dim light of the moon and the city lights. “Mostly I’ve been thinking about what a burden I must be to you.” 

“You’re not.” Blitz felt the knot in his chest twist as he struggled to find the words. “Look, I want you here as long as you want to be here and… you know, whatever that means. And I just…” he now resisted the urge to smack his own forehead. “Fuck, Stolas, I just want you to be happy.”

“And I can’t even do that much for you.” Blitz could tell that it had been his attempt at a joke, but the way his eyes drifted, still unable to look at him, made Blitz’s heart seize in an awful way. He wanted to say the right thing, anything that could fix this, but every attempt at formulating the sentiment fell flat or sounded wrong in his head, and he stayed frozen. 

“I know you’re trying,” Blitz finally murmured pathetically.

“Yes… but it’s not working…” Stolas slipped a hand out of Blitz’s grip and brought it to rub at his eyes, smearing his eyeliner. He sighed. “I’m sorry. I know I can’t keep wallowing in this forever…” He then seemed to lose momentum for even sitting and talking simultaneously, and instead collapsed sideways into a heap, his cheek pressing into the side of the couch.

“It’s alright,” Blitz told him. “I understand.” 

And the thing is, he did. He may have never lost a shit ton of money or phenomenal cosmic powers, but Blitz knew what it was like to lose everything, to have your family torn apart, to be left completely alone, and to have the whole thing be your fault. 

Stolas didn’t exactly look mollified, but he finally looked Blitz in the eye. The expression on his face made Blitz’s cold, dead heart do little flips, despite everything, and he gave Stolas a small smile.

“You should get some sleep,” he said gently, busying himself with the task of grabbing the blanket off the far end of the couch and draping it over Stolas, who let out a yawn that he tried not to find adorable. “Let me know if you need a bucket or another glass of water or something, I’ll get up.”

“Alright,” Stolas replied, eyes already mostly closed. 

Blitz pulled the blanket up over his shoulders and tucked him in for good measure, pulling away gently.

“‘Night, Stols.” 

“Goodnight.” Stolas’ voice was exhausted. “Love you.”

Blitz’s heart stopped. Every muscle in his body seized, like his own anatomy was attempting to trap him there. 

Oh. 

Fuck. 

He stood frozen, staring at Stolas’ now completely asleep form. 

An ocean’s worth of emotions flooded his chest: jubilation and fear and doubt and relief and melancholy all rolled into one, and Blitz stood amidst the torrent, battered and completely unsure of what to do. 

After several seconds of watching Stolas’ chest rise and fall with the movement of his breath, Blitz tore himself away, decidedly marching toward the beanbag. 

He… hadn’t meant that. He was just drunk and half asleep and that… he probably didn’t mean it…

Every step he took away from the couch made him feel sick. Despite his harsher, perhaps better judgement, he turned back. 

Stolas’ face was relaxed and peaceful, lit by a moonbeam coming through the apartment window. Blitz knew he was probably enjoying the first few, dreamless hours of sleep that come with heavy drinking. (The hours that are immediately followed by waking up at 3AM with hell’s shittiest headache and the spins.) He watched as he shifted in his sleep, rolling onto his side and curling inward, his face slipping out of the light of the moonbeam and into the darkness. 

Blitz was full of too many emotions at this point: shame and protectiveness and the deep, deep sense that he’d never deserve love from anyone for the rest of his life. Too much to fathom, too much to fit in his body, and he felt his chest ache with it, with the want of action. He wanted to do something , but it seemed like the impulse had no logic to it. Just frantic, gnawing want with no direction. 

He eventually took in a gulp of air and let it out through his teeth as he reached up to rub at his eyes. 

There was a small voice in his head that said, “fuck it,” and Blitz walked back over. 

He’d just sit there on the floor for a few minutes to make sure Stolas didn’t throw up all over his only couch, that was it. 

And if he got extra comfortable, curled up tight, leaned his head against the cushions, and reached over to grab Stolas’ hand and gently lace their fingers together, no one was there to comment on it but him.

Chapter Text

Blitz had been in more than his fair share of perilous scenarios. Firefights, explosions, duels with robotic clowns, a whole slew of knife fights ranging from sexy to downright cringe-inducing. 

But he was having a hard time coming up with anything more perilous than the sight staring up at him from his bathroom wastebasket.

It had been a Saturday morning like any other. He had arisen from his spot on the beanbag, cracked the ever loving fuck out of his neck, paused for a secret moment of appreciation for Stolas’ adorable sleeping face on the couch, and had set out with the intention to make breakfast. 

However, he’d felt particularly industrious that morning and decided to get some cleaning done first, resolving to take out the trash like a good father and… whatever he and Stolas were. Sex-transaction-associates-turned-situationship-turned-roommates-with-hopefully-sexual-tension? ….He’d workshop it.

But it was this sudden motivation to do something halfway decent that got him to where he was: looking at the bathroom wastebasket with a positive pregnancy test staring back up at him.

This was why good deeds were a fuckin’ scam and no one should do them.

He reached in gingerly to grab the thing. Maybe he was reading it wrong. Maybe two lines meant Not Pregnant. In this one brand of pregnancy test. When literally every other brand of pregnancy test he’d ever heard of did not do it that way.

He stared, frozen, down at the two lines, and felt like he might get sympathy morning sickness. 

The whole situation was made even worse when Loona’s voice suddenly rang behind him.

“Mornin’.”

Blitz nearly jumped out of his skin, the test fumbling from his grip before he finally managed to knock it into the air where it promptly sailed and landed in the middle of the bathroom floor. Loona stared down at it, bemused. 

“Shit, fuck,” he stammered. “Look, it’s okay, Looney, we’ll… we’ll figure this out.” 

His head started spinning, heart pounding like he’d just run five miles. “I mean, shit, you okay? Did something happen? Look, I’ll support you no matter what, you know that, Looney, but I’m a little young to be a GILF, I’m still firmly in DILF territory, okay? Not to mention this apartment is already really crowded, I don’t know if we can fit one more… Wait, there’s only one, right?! Oh, holy fuck-”

“Blitz!”

When he looked up, Loona was staring daggers at him. “That isn’t mine.”

Blitz was filled with equal parts relief and skepticism. “Really? Because if it is, it’s okay! We can figure it out, just let me-”

“Dad.” She leveled him with a Look. “It’s not mine.”

For a second, there was only sweet, sweet knowledge that he was not about to go even more bankrupt than he already was. But then, the obvious question:

“Well, then whose is it?”

“I dunno,” she deadpanned. “Who the fuck else lives here?”

It was Blitz’s turn to level her with a Look. “Well it’s obviously not mine, and it’s not like Stolas can get pregnant.”

Loona’s original Look was unphased. “Do you know that?”

Blitz was halfway to a scoff, when the realization pulled the floor out from under him.

Because no, actually, he did not, for an absolute fact, know that.

He felt every muscle in his body freeze in utter panic.

Loona turned and walked out of the bathroom. “I’m making coffee.”

A few minutes later, Stolas awoke from what looked like a fairly comfortable sleep, his glassy eyes coming into focus to see Blitz perched on his chest, curled tight like a spooked cat.

“Ummm. Good morning?”

“Heeeeyyyy, Big Bird,” he tried, hoping his voice didn’t sound as rigid as the rest of him (and not even in a fun way). “How ya feelin’?”

“Fine?” Stolas gave him a quizzical look. “Hhhhow are you?”

“I’m alright.” He fucking wasn’t. “Listeeennnnn, I was just… uh, that is, I was wondering if, maybe there was something you wanted to talk about? Something… important?”

Stolas’s expression was utterly perplexed. “What do you mean? Is everything alright?”

“Well- I- uh-” Shit this was going even worse than he’d anticipated. He tried to swallow, but his throat felt constricted and dry, his pulse thudding loudly enough to be distracting. “You don’t have…. Anything to tell me?”

Stolas just stared at him.

“Anything… involving…?”

And Loona managed to pick that fucking moment to walk by and casually toss out the sentence, “He found a pregnancy test in the bathroom trash and he’s wondering if it’s yours.”

“What the fuck?!” Stolas sat up then, causing the balled up form that was Blitz to tumble off his torso and get tangled in the blankets and those long ass bird legs. “What do you mean mine?! Who would I have gotten pregnant?”

Before Blitz could answer, Loona shouted from the kitchen. “Nah, he thinks he got you pregnant.”

“You what? ” Stolas’ gaze snapped back to Blitz’s, and the expression on his face suggested to Blitz that he was perhaps the stupidest thing that Stolas had ever beheld. 

“Okay, Loona said it first!” he defended, his face growing hot. “I mean, like, I know it’s been a while since we’ve… and that’s okay! I’m happy you’re here no matter what! I, uh- that is-“

Stolas’ face was deadpan. “Blitz.”

“Okay, fuckin’ sorry! Can you blame me? I found a pregnancy test in the bathroom trash and Looney said it wasn’t hers, and I don’t know what you’ve got going on down there!”

“You are, in fact, intimately familiar with what I’ve got going on down there. ”

“Gross,” Loona supplied from the kitchen. 

“Alright, well it’s not like I’m fuckin pregnant so who the fuck took a pregnancy test in my house?”

“Maybe one of the many people who have been in this apartment recently?” Stolas pointed out, looking irked, crossing his arms for good measure. “When was the last time you even took out the bathroom trash?”

“Hey, I’m not the only one who lives here.” Blitz’s temper flared slightly. “Livin’ low class means you gotta start doin’ chores, Mister.”

Stolas practically crumpled, slumping over the couch arm dramatically. “ More work? How do you people live?! ”

Loona’s deadpan voice cut in. “Guys.”

They turned to find her standing behind the couch holding mugs of coffee for each of them, which they gladly took. 

“It was probably one of my friends,” she said, pulling out her phone and beginning to type. “Dunno who, but the group chat is about to go nuts.”

She then grabbed her own coffee and wandered off in the direction of her room, and Blitz could feel every sphincter he owned unclench, resisting the urge to completely melt into a Blitz-sized puddle on Stolas’ lap... No one was pregnant. He sighed and mumbled, “Thank Lucifer.”

From under him, there was a small, snorting kind of noise, and when Blitz looked up, he saw what was unmistakably Stolas trying to hold in laughter, eyes averted, hand over his mouth.

“Oh, you think this is funny huh?” Blitz remarked with little venom, He was annoyed, but the lightness of Stolas’ laughter dampened the sting. He swung his legs into a more comfortable position, but didn’t bother to give up his spot on Stolas’ lap. Stolas didn’t seem to mind.

“Did you really think you’d gotten me pregnant?” he got out between giggles.

Blitz grimaced. “Look, I was panicking, alright?”

“Yes, clearly.”

“I mean, I know we’ve been talking about getting a bigger place, but it’s not like we can afford to raise another kid.”

Loona poked her head out from her room to shout, “You didn’t even raise me!”

Without missing a beat, Blitz shouted back. “Because I couldn’t afford it!”

Stolas, who was clearly having the time of his life, leaned an elbow casually on the arm of the couch, smirking over his coffee. “Yes, well, I assure you, me being pregnant is not possible. Though with how enthusiastic I know you to be, one could certainly accuse you of trying.”

With as many whiplashing emotions as Blitz had experienced in the past ten minutes, Horny was a welcome respite; familiar and generally pleasant. After a moment of bewilderment, his psyche latched onto it, and the tension in his shoulders finally gave way. He smirked and cocked an eyebrow at Stolas. “Never heard you complaining.” 

Stolas merely giggled, and Blitz’s heart flew in strange, new patterns. It had felt like a gift lately, the little moments when they could be like this again. Their familiarity was rekindling; The easy banter slipping back into place as if it were coming home. 

Before Blitz could get swept away in the feeling (or the erection-inducing edge) of it all, Loona popped her head out again.

“Can we get brunch?” she half-whined. “We need more groceries anyway, may as well go to the diner.”

And really, who could argue with that logic?

Chapter Text

“Alright, gang, let’s go over the plan one more time. Stolas, you’ve got the schedule?”

Stolas grabbed his phone and clicked around for a moment before reading off it. “Grey-Pentagram Reality at 11:30AM, DieCor Leasing at 1:30, and that random building manager that Moxxie recommended named Dee Snuts at 4:00PM.”

Around them, the diner was humming with the typical Sunday breakfast rush, a cacophony of noises and smells permeating the whole place. There was a certain comfort in the chaos

“Yeah I’m not holding out a lot of hope for that last one.” Blitz paused to take a bite of his eggs, but didn’t bother to finish chewing before he continued. “Loona, you’ve got the non-negotiables list?”

Loona, who was clearly irked at not being allowed to eat her crappy diner eggs and sausage in peace, clicked around on her own phone for a moment before sighing boredly. “Two bedrooms, balcony, a halfway decent bathtub, and an electric stove so Blitz doesn’t set the kitchen on fire anymore.”

“Hey,” Blitz protested. “Who added that?”

“I did,” Loona responded simply.

“Okay, well, you underestimate my ability to set things on fire.”

And Loona likely had a snappy response, but it was cut short, because the next second Blitz was drenched and screaming, steam rolling off him. 

“AHH! FUCK!! FUCKING OW?!?!?” He screeched, shirt soaked completely through with still-hot coffee. From nearby, Stolas heard a distinct, “Fuck you, Blitzo!”

Stolas panicked, trying to grab for some napkins, but Blitz was already up and chasing his assailant.

“The FUCK was that?! Who the fuck are you?!”

The culprit in question was an imp woman, dressed in baggy clothes and a colorful beanie. 

“Someone who wishes you’d just die already,” the woman snarled.

“Satan dammit, what, did we date or something?” Blitz thankfully looked unburnt, but may as well have been on fire the way he was seething. “Look, I’m sorry for whatever probably-fucked-up thing I did, but did you really need to fuckin throw hot drinks on me while I’m out with my family?”

“We didn’t date, asshole!” the woman barked. Around them, most of the diner’s clientele didn’t bother to hide their entertainment, most of them continuing to eat their breakfast while they watched the scene unfold in front of them, clearly sizing up who to root for should a fight break out. 

“I’m a friend of Barbie’s,” she finished. 

Stolas watched as all the anger dropped from Blitz’s face faster than the coffee that dripped down it.  “Barb? Is she okay?”

“No, shitbag!” the woman yelled with an impressive amount of ire for someone who vaguely resembled a child wearing hand-me-down clothes. “You got her fired from her job and she lost her apartment! By the time I heard about it, she was out on the streets somewhere.”

“What? Where?” Blitz, perhaps ill-advisedly, stepped further into the woman’s space. “Tell me now.”

“How the fuck should I know!?” she shouted back. “Last I heard she was down in Tent City-”

Blitz didn’t stay for the rest of the woman’s sentence, spinning around immediately to grab his jacket.

“Do you want us to go with you?” Stolas asked as Blitz frantically grabbed for his phone, which Loona passed to him.

“No, it’s fine.” His voice was as distracted as Stolas had ever heard it. “You guys look at places without me, I’ll call you later.”

And Stolas couldn’t get another word in before he was already sprinting out the door. Stolas stared after him for a long moment, heart twisting with concern, before he took a breath, resolved to text him for updates, and turned back to Loona, who was staring at him with her typical, deadpan visage.

Well. This was awkward. 

“Ah-haha.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I suppose it’s you and me today, then.”

Her voice was as bored as it could possibly be when she replied, “Yaaaaaaaaaaayyyy.”

—----------

The first apartment somehow managed to have less square footage than the tiny one-bedroom they already lived in and cost nearly twice as much. The second seemed fine to Stolas at first. That is, until-

“Look, I don’t wanna be gross about it,” Loona deadpanned. “But if you and Blitz are sharing a room, I’m not sharing a wall with that room.”

This comment promptly caused Stolas to knock a small army of knick knacks off the bookshelf of the apartment they were touring, which angered the current tenant, which caused the landlord to kick them out, which excluded that apartment from their options for myriad reasons. 

“It’s all up to Dee Snuts,” Loona remarked with about as much enthusiasm as ever as they rode the bus to their third apartment building of the day. 

However, it seemed that Moxxie may have had a legitimate recommendation in Dee Snuts, because the third apartment proved instantly promising. An absolutely terrible view of the street and another building’s fire escape, but a fairly reasonable central area, a balcony big enough for some herbs and a few chairs in the summer, and a master bathroom complete with-

“Oooohohoho!!!” Stolas never thought he’d be so giddy over a simple claw foot tub, but here he was, practically sobbing with joy. 

At one point, Dee went off to fetch some paperwork, and Loona promptly walked out on the balcony to smoke. Stolas joined, merely standing and feeling, for perhaps the first time since his banishment, something akin to excitement.

“I… wanted to thank you,” he told Loona. “For being so welcoming these past weeks. I know my being here has likely been an inconvenience for you.”

“You saved Blitz’s life,” Loona replied simply. “Anyone who would do that is cool with me.”

“Yes, but who am I to you, really?” He let out a bittersweet chuckle, remembering words seared into his memory in Blitz’s voice all those months ago. “Some pompous, rich asshole who made a morally dubious contract with your adoptive father. You don’t owe me your sympathy. But you’ve given it anyway. And I’m grateful.”

Loona didn’t say anything for a long moment, staring at the cigarette where she rolled it between her fingers.

“I’m sorry Octavia isn’t talking to you, by the way,” she finally said. “The few times I met her she seemed pretty cool, if a little sheltered.”

Stolas tried to chuckle again, but it just came out as a sigh. “Yes, I’m afraid we were both sheltered. I think I’ve only recently begun to understand just how sheltered.” 

It was Loona’s turn to chuckle, which she did, before offering him the cigarette, which he took after a brief moment of surprise.

“For what it’s worth,” Loona offered. “I think she’ll probably forgive you eventually.”

“You think so?” He took another drag from the cigarette and reminded himself not to get his hopes up. “She has every right not to. She was right; I didn’t think about how my decisions would affect her until after I made them. The affair, the divorce, the trial… I was selfish.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She grabbed the cigarette back. “But I mean, you also stuck around. You’ve told like a hundred stories about how you love spending time with her, and you ran around all of Los Angeles looking for her when she stole the grimoire. You clearly care. You just gotta keep trying.”

“Funny.” He felt a smile creep onto his face. “Blitz said something similar.”

She passed the cigarette back to him before leaning forward on the railing once more. “Blitz wasn’t my dad for most of my life. But that’s something I guess I wound up learning for him. People are gonna fuck up. They might even fuck you up in the process. But if you know someone is trying - really trying, not just saying they are - then they’re not a lost cause.”

He certainly felt like a lost cause some days. Still, her words warmed him.

Family, Blitz had called the two of them. Not my daughter, but my family. Blitz had included him in the sentiment without a second thought. 

It felt hopelessly complicated, a giant ball of tangled yarn, the threads making up his daughter and father and Blitz and Loona. He even thought of Stella, the very definition of a family he didn’t choose. And maybe he was reading into something where there was nothing. Maybe it had merely been some strange slip of the tongue. But while his heart churned and ached at being reminded of the family he’d lost, there was some small comfort that someone would even want him in their family. 

He sighed and passed back what was left of the cigarette. “Thank you, Loona.” 

And with that, Loona had clearly decided that the heart-to-heart was over.

“So what do you think?” She flicked the cigarette off the side of the balcony and turned, leaning on the railing and seemingly appraising the apartment building. “Think Blitz’ll like it?”

Stolas looked down at his phone and realized he’d lost track of time. It had been almost six hours since Blitz ran out of the diner that morning.

“I haven’t heard from him at all,” he said, brow furrowing. “You?”

She pulled her phone out of her pocked and glanced down at it. “Nope.”

A pit formed in Stolas’ stomach. “Oh dear. I’ll call him.”

For a moment, he thought Loona might protest. That maybe she knew some detail about this whole Blitz-Sister situation that he didn’t. But she merely crossed her arms and waited. The phone rang four, five, six times, and finally went to voicemail.

“Um, hello,” he stammered, trying desperately not to sound as nervous as he felt. “I’m sorry, I know you’re busy. No need to call back, just, please text and just confirm you’re alright when you get this.”

“We found a cool apartment!” Loona shouted so the receiver would pick up the sound.

“Yes!” Stolas confirmed. “We’ll tell you all about it later. Anyway, please confirm you’re alright. When you can. Sorry again to bother you. Goodbye!”

He hung the phone up quickly, a combination of guilt and embarrassment flowing through his veins. 

“Well,” Loona supplied. “Let’s get going.”

Several minutes later, on the way out of the building, Stolas’ phone buzzed.

Blitzy

im fne. omw home. 

He showed the text to Loona, and the two of them began to make their way back to the apartment.

Later, the two of them had reached home, and were cooking dinner when the door opened, and in walked Blitz, still covered in coffee stains, but otherwise unharmed. 

“You good?” Loona called, her and Stolas both walking over to greet him. 

Blitz’s face looked dismal. Angry. But all he said was, “It’s fine. How was apartment hunting?”

“Well, we found a place,” Loona explained.  “It has everything we talked about. It’s further from the office, but there’s a grocery store like right next door.”

“Sounds fancy.” Blitz looked skeptical. “I’m not gonna have to pass a credit check to get us into this place, am I?”

And Stolas smiled, because he could see just how excited she was to tell Blitz this next part. 

“You don’t have to. I already did.”

Blitz, whose expression and demeanor had been subdued since he walked in the door, seemed to forget everything that was holding him down for just a second. “Wait, what?”

“We signed for it!” Stolas supplied.

“How’d you do that?” Blitz asked.

“Out of the three of us, I’m the only one who knows how to work a fucking savings account.” She crossed her arms, expression smarmy but teasing. Stolas would never neg her on it, but a part of him was tickled by how proud she seemed to be. “I put that security deposit DOWN, bitches! We can move in next month!”

The moment of reprieve that Blitz had seemed to slip away from him and his shoulders slumped slightly, as if remembering all the things weighing him down. “That’s… that’s great, Looney.”

“We made dinner,” Stolas offered. “Well, mostly Loona made dinner. I chopped the vegetables and tried not to hurt myself.”

Blitz still sounded far away. “Sounds great.”

Blitz was quiet throughout dinner, allowing the two of them to regale him with the events of the day. Stolas realized quickly that Loona had seemingly come to the same conclusion he had: Blitz probably wasn’t going to talk about it, and if he was, he’d do it when he was ready.

But although he was getting the feeling that giving Blitz space was the best move here, it didn’t sate Stolas’ worry by a long shot. After they wrapped up dinner, Blitz slinked off silently to the living room, promptly curling up on the beanbag chair with his back to the two of them. It was at this point that Stolas made eye contact with Loona, who raised her eyebrows and inclined her head in a clear gesture that Stolas should take this one. 

The walk from kitchen to beanbag was only about ten steps, and yet it seemed to stretch on for hours as Stolas approached nervously, at a loss for what to say or do in this situation. He settled for sitting on the floor next to the beanbag. Blitz made no move to look at him.

His mouth felt arid, but he cleared his throat a little and started. “I’m… guessing it didn’t go well today.”

Blitz’s voice was an exhausted sigh. “No…”

There was a pause where Stolas felt perhaps the most awkward he ever had in his life which was saying something. 

“Do you…” he tried again, “want to talk about it?”

This time, the word had some bite behind it. “No.”

Stolas could take the hint. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

But the answer didn’t come as quickly as he expected, a long pause as Blitz seemed to curl even tighter in on himself, as small as Stolas had ever seen him. Finally, he seemed to take a breath, his voice as small as his form “...No.”

He didn’t know how to help Blitz here, didn’t know what to say to make whatever was going on better, but he knew how much he wanted to hold him in his arms. With some shuffling, Stolas managed to squeeze onto the beanbag, wrapping himself around his imp, who was still curled up tightly, the tension in his body seemingly unable to dissipate.

And Lucifer damn him, but he couldn’t seem to keep his beak shut. “I… I, um.”

“Don’t talk.”

Despite the gruffness of his tone, it was a blessing that Blitz had cut him off. 

“Alright,” he replied simply.

There was a few seconds pause and Blitz shifted slightly, curling further into Stolas’ chest. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s alright,” Stolas assured him.

In reality, it wasn’t completely alright. He wanted so desperately for Blitz to tell him what he was feeling so that Stolas might understand, might know better how to be there for him. But Blitz didn’t want to talk, and Stolas knew a thing or two about hiding one’s true feelings from people, how it becomes something woven into the fabric of their psyche until doing otherwise feels tantamount to danger.

So he held him close, said nothing, and waited for Blitz to fall asleep.

Chapter Text

There were several things that Blitz had grown to like about Stolas in the time they’d known each other. Even back when Blitz was keeping him at arm’s length, the prince had always been a charming and generally pleasant presence. Indeed, it was the pleasantness that Blitz had managed to find a way to be annoyed about.

But somewhere along the way, he started to notice other things that he had come to appreciate: the passion in Stolas’ eyes when he talked about an interest of his, his wit, the satisfaction of making him laugh-

But clearly, without meaning to, Blitz had gone too deep, because here he was, watching Stolas throw a dramatic little fit over a credit card bill, and some-fucking-how he found it more adorable than annoying.

“How did this happen?!” Stolas slumped over where he was seated on the couch, face in his hands. 

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Blitz tried to reassure him. “Your credit limit was like $1000, of course you’re gonna end up maxing it out. I’ve blown more than that at a strip club on a Thursday.”

Stolas glared at him, expression distinctly pouty. And- yep, that was adorable too. Fuck, he was embarrassing. 

“It’s not reassuring that neither of us knows how to budget, Blitz,” he said.

“That’s what Loona is for,” Blitz replied with the wave of a hand. “and anyway, it’s fine, your paycheck comes in at the end of the week and you’ll pay some of it off.”

“ Some of it? But I’ll still be in-“ Absolute horror crossed his face. “ Debt. ”

Blitz may have found this whole thing more adorable than annoying, but he still found it a little annoying. He tried not to roll his eyes. “You’re poor now. Comes with the territory.”

“No one should have to live like this,” Stolas informed him gravely.

“Almost everyone lives like this,” Blitz deadpanned back.

“Well it’s awful!” He slumped over dramatically once more, curling into a ball of feathers with bird legs sticking out of it.  “I’m failing. I'm doing a horrible job at everything.”

Wrong direction. Blitz backtracked. “Hey, come on, I didn’t say that. It’s a big adjustment. You’ve been doing just fine.”

Stolas merely groaned, not unfurling in the slightest. 

Then Blitz, as he was wont to do, got a crazy idea. “Forget the bill. What if we did something fun?”

“I can’t afford fun, apparently,” Stolas told his knees.

“ You can’t but I still can.” He sensed an opportunity to lay on The Charm and went for it. “What if we go to one of the nice restaurants in Lust? Maybe go shopping? There’s not just dildo shops!” Oh fuck, The Charm was slowly becoming The Nervous Rambling. “Did you know Hell’s biggest book store is down there? It’s called Lust For Knowledge ... You probably knew that, what am I saying?”

Stolas was quiet for a moment, almost frozen. Then, he unfurled just enough to turn his head and raise an eyebrow at him. “You’re…. asking me on a date. In Lust?”

“Yeah why not-? Oh.” 

Yikes. 

Fuck. 

Shit.

Say something! Anything!

“Uhhhhhhh.”

Satan fucking dammit.

Stolas promptly sat up and leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek. “I’d love to.”

Blitz had to take a second to confront the heat currently assaulting his face and tell it to fuck off. He rubbed at the spot on his cheek where Stolas had kissed him for entirely practical and non-sentimental reasons. It, uh… that spot on his face happened to itch, that was all. Finally, he grumbled, “You a masochist or something?”

“You know the answer to that,” Stolas replied coolly. “But also, I have faith in you.”

And oh fuck, that made one of them. 

——————————

“I’ve gotta say, this is a different side of you, Sir.” 

Blitz, through truly Herculean effort, resisted the urge to bitch slap the smirk off Moxxie’s face. “You wanna see a different side of me, keep talkin’ Mox.”

He’d felt off his game all day. He was clumsy, he’d nearly fucked up their kill this morning, and he couldn’t focus, his mind gnawing like a dog at its own leg in a bear trap. He kept trying to tell the gnawing that they needed to do this later because he had more pressing matters, but the gnawing begged to differ. The gnawing only wanted one thing: to know what the ever loving fuck he was going to do about this whole Taking Stolas To Dinner In Lust And Not Fucking Up So Badly That Stolas Leaves Him Forever thing?

They were currently attempting to execute their second and hopefully last kill of the day - some old dude with fuckin Edna Mode glasses who lived in an innocuous little white house with a murder basement beneath it - but somehow they were having trouble finding said innocuous little white house, probably due to the fact that the Asmodean Crystal had dropped them in a fucking forest so all they saw were trees. 

Blitz whacked at a low branch in his way like it had a personal vendetta against him. 

“I think it’s sweet,” Millie drawled. “It’s y’all’s first real date!”

“ No, that’s exactly the problem,” Blitz griped. “Our first date was that awful fucking night at Ozzie’s where I embarrassed us both and then was an ass about it to the point that he still thinks about it sometimes.”

“How d’you know he thinks about it?” Millie asked confusedly. 

“Because he told me he does!” Blitz snapped before groaning and wiping at his face. “Or- sort of. He was drunk. He said a lot of stuff. Point is, now I have to take him back to Lust and somehow not royally fuck up this time.”

“Just take him to a different district than Ozzie’s,” Moxxie suggested. “Lust’s Little Italy is supposed to be really good, why not go there?”

“Little what?”

“You have no culture at all, do you?” Moxxie deadpanned. 

“Well, sorry we can’t all be born into fancy fuckin mafia families, Mox.”

Millie cut in gently. “It’s fancy pizza, you’ll like it.”

“Sold.”

The next bush he pushed aside brought with it a cold breeze, and the three of them stepped out of the trees and onto the crest of a hill. Below them was a picturesque valley bathed in moonlight, its gentle slopes lined with innocuous little white houses, all completely identical.

“Oh that’s terrifying,” Moxxie mumbled almost matter-of-factly.

“How the fuck are we supposed to know which one is the Murder Basement?” Blitz barked. “This can’t turn into an all-day thing, I have a Not Relationship to fuck up!”

But thank Satan for Moxxie, who held up their case file and deadpanned, “There’s an address.”

“Oh. Good.”

They started down the hill past the innocuous little white houses, looking for an address in the 3000s. Blitz glanced around the disconcertingly quiet neighborhood. The houses were in the low 100s. 

“Fuckin’ dammit,” he spat, pulling out his phone and resolving to at least spend this long ass walk looking up whatever the fuck Little Italy was.

“Blitz,” Millie said. “It’s okay to be nervous, but I don’t think it’s as bad as you think it is. Ozzie’s is a low bar to clear.”

“Yeah, that’s what you think,” he grumbled, not looking up from his phone. “But I have a proven track record of fucking this shit up. With him specifically.”

Moxxie joined in on the reassurance bandwagon. “Yeah, but that was before, when you guys weren’t on the same page. But now you’ve been living together for a while and have surely had multiple frank conversations where you stated your feelings plainly, right?”

Blitz wasn’t sure what his face looked like, but apparently it said enough.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?”

Right at that moment, something large and heavy-looking fell out of the bushes and landed on the ground a few yards ahead of them. They all froze and stared at what was definitely a dead human body wrapped in a blanket and a bungee cord. The next second, a figure jumped out, seemingly unaware of their presence: a portly, unassuming man with thick, round, Edna Mode ass glasses. 

“Jackpot.”

Then Murder happened.

A short while later, they were dumping both the Old Guy body and the original body into a nearby river - off to the warmer shores of Being Someone Else’s Fuckin’ Problem - when Blitz groaned with the realization that the only thing worse than having to cancel his date with Stolas because of a job was the anxiety of actually having to go through with said date.

He didn’t even know why he fucking tried sometimes. He’d been trying so hard lately, but he knew deep down that he was just gonna find a way to fuck this up. If not the date, then eventually. And then what would happen when Stolas eventually grew to resent him and then he in turn resented that resentment? 

He rubbed at the crystal. “Come on, let’s just go.”

But the sound of Milie’s voice cut him off before he could open the portal.

“Blitz!” she outright barked, startling him. Her eyes were filled with rage. “Will you quit fuckin’ wallowin’ in self-pity and go have a nice dinner with the guy you like?”

Blitz went rigid. “Wha- What, I wasn’t- …Fuck you!”

“I fuckin’ know you.” She pointed an accusatory finger in his direction, eyes narrowing in a way that suggested she was talking to him, but her eyes were scanning his face trying to figure out what point would hurt most to throw a punch at should she need to know that information. “I know you’ve been on this whole little spiral so that later when you sabotage your date with Stolas, you can sit there and think about how right you were. Well I ain’t lettin’ ya do it!”

Blitz felt his defenses flare, but Millie gave him no time to protest, stepping into his space and jabbing a finger into his chest. “Now, you’re gonna go on a nice date with this poor man who’s been pinin’ after you for Satan knows how long-”

“Okay, I already feel bad about that part, Mills, thanks.”

“-and you’re gonna have a nice fuckin’ time. ” She punctuated each word with another jab. “And ya’ ain’t gonna let this bullshit stand in your way. ‘Cause that’s all it is! Bullshit! And you know it! Since when have you ever obeyed a fuckin’ road block?”

You know, when she put it like that…

Perhaps it had been her tone hitting him like a punch to the face, but he found that his head now rang surprisingly clear. She was right. Whether he’d be able to take her  advice remained to be seen, but she was right. 

Blitz looked down at Millie’s absolutely irate expression and thought: that’s your best friend. 

He smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” Millie replied, stepping back and crossing her arms with a huff. “Now take us home.”

“You are so fuckin’ hot,” Moxxie informed her. 

—---------------------

Little Italy turned out to be exceedingly Fancy by Blitz’s standards, which probably meant it was still bottom of the barrel to Stolas. However, he didn’t seem to mind. He’d commented on how Blitz looked nice (he’d thrown on his one halfway decent shirt) and practically creamed his pants when he realized Blitz had made a reservation, which he’d made earlier that day on the office’s computer in under five minutes with Moxxie’s help. Blitz informed him of this, but Stolas didn’t seem to care about that detail, practically floating as they followed the host to a little bistro table in the corner of the only-slightly-gimmicky restaurant. Blitz felt a momentary pang of guilt because damn, he’d really acted like an ass toward him before if this was what Stolas considered going above and beyond. 

He snapped himself out of it, thinking of Millie’s words. No sabotage. They were going to have a nice fucking time. 

And as it turned out, that wound up being pretty easy. Craziest fucking thing: he liked talking to Stolas. He’d realized this logically, of course. Shit, they’d been spending every single day together for the past several weeks, he would have realized by now if the whole risking their lives for one another thing had just been some weird fluke.

But take the same conversations they’d been having on his shitty old couch and put them in the corner of a fancy restaurant, bathed in candlelight and smelling like fresh pasta, and they felt more significant all of a sudden. 

Still, he managed to remain normal (well, normal for him). He was thankful when he noticed that the more he let Stolas talk, the more comfortable he looked and the less often he picked up his wine glass. He filed that tidbit away for later. It’s not like Blitz minded hearing Stolas talk anyway. Yes, sexy bird, tell him more about the hibernation habits of carnivorous plants or whatever random shit popped into your head, Blitz was all ears. He would even ask questions.

He’d been dreading this since he’d suggested it, absolutely certain he’d fuck up. But strangely, by the time Blitz was throwing his credit card at the check, he was disappointed that it was almost over.

The bright neon and chrome of Lust illuminated the street outside in a hazy, multicolored glow, and Blitz was in the middle of telling a fantastic fucking story when he paused to leap onto a garden wall so he could walk at eye level with Stolas. 

“-turns out I’d honeypotted the wrong Terrance,”

Stolas looked entirely too adorable, shoulders covered by Blitz’s jacket and eyes wide with interest. “How were there two mafia leaders named Terrance?” 

“Beats me.” Blitz shrugged. “Sinners aren’t creative. Anyway the second one didn’t buy my sexy bottle girl disguise nearly as easily, but eventually we got him too, and I guess we caused some sort of organized crime implosion in that city. I don’t know, though, cos at that point we were done with the job and I didn’t give a shit.”

“Do you have to seduce your targets often?” Stolas asked, eyebrow raised slightly.

“Technically, we didn’t even have to do it then, I just thought it would be funny.”

Stolas let out a little snrk, rolling his eyes with a little smile . 

“Listen,” Blitz replied, laying it on thick. “From one ten to another: it’s way more fuckin’ boring than it sounds. And the heels are a bitch to walk in.”

Stolas laughed in earnest then, and Blitz felt something very dangerous swirl in the pit of his chest when he realized that the sound was becoming familiar once more, when a short time ago he didn’t think he’d ever hear it again.

Shit. None of this was any good. Of course, he knew logically that it was actually completely fine and that he was an adult and sometimes being an adult meant feeling… things like this. But at the core of him, he was downright terrified. Here was Stolas, simply talking and laughing and existing in his presence. And here was Blitz’s big stupid head, contemplating sentiments that felt like a lit match in a room full of gasoline.

Stolas eventually quieted his laughs and smiled at him. “This was lovely, Blitz, thank you. Honestly, I’m sad it’s over.” 

Ugh. Stop it. 

Stop being so-

“I mean…” He felt awkward as he averted his gaze, trying and likely failing to sound casual. “The night is still young. We could go to a club, or one of those bars where we can only afford one cocktail because it explodes or some shit, or there’s that bookstore, and if we stay out too late we can always crash in a hotel for the night.” 

Stolas looked askance and Blitz felt his stomach drop for half a second before he spoke. 

“Or…” his voice was tentative. “We could just… go straight to the hotel?”

Blitz’s brain short circuited for what was apparently a second too long.

“If you want to,” Stolas backtracked. “If not, I completely understand. Actually, I’m sorry I brought it up, it was incredibly crass of me-”

“Wait, hold on,” Blitz interjected, grabbing both his hands in his own. His eyes were downcast and full of embarrassment. Blitz craned his neck, trying to insert himself into his eyeline. Stolas eventually yielded and looked him in the eye once more.

Blitz felt a smirk form on his face. “Fuckin’ love crass. Let’s go.”

Stolas looked surprised for a second, then he let out a little laugh. Then another. And Blitz watched with elation as he erupted into giggles once more. Blitz tried not to feel like a fuckin besotted school girl (he looked great in a slutty catholic school uniform, but that was beside the point) and let him get them out before turning up the charm, moving to offer his arm to the ex-prince like he’d seen in one of Moxxie’s stupid practically-softcore-porn period dramas. Still giggling and looking practically giddy, Stolas took the arm and the two of them set off.

Later, they stood at the check in desk in a rather ostentatiously decorated lobby, having located a hotel that seemed to be Lust’s attempt at an Italian Villa. As Blitz handed the concierge his credit card, Stolas leaned down to murmur in his ear, which was hot for about half a second before his brain processed the words Stolas was saying.

“Can we afford this?” he asked skeptically.

Blitz tried to turn on the suave. “You tell me. You’re the one who’s been helping Moxxie do I.M.P.s finances.”

“I know,” Stolas deadpanned at him. “That’s why I’m asking.”

Blitz cringed slightly. “Look, it’s fine, alright? Let me treat you.”

Stolas didn’t look completely convinced, but sighed and mumbled a soft, “Alright,” before he straightened back up and let Blitz stew in a short panic while the concierge swiped his card…

Accepted. Thank fuck.

Upon entry into the room, Blitz found that he had lucked the fuck out, because-

“Ooohhh!!!” Stolas clapped his hands excitedly. “What a divine bathtub. Oh, I’d love to take a proper bath.”

Blitz was trying so hard - pun intended - to be a gentleman about all this, but The Horny was about to claw its way out of his fucking pants and destroy the entirety of Hell itself.

“You can,” he got out. Distantly, his voice still sounded like it still had The Charm turned on he guessed. “It’s your night, Birdie, have the bitchenest bath ever.”

A blush formed on Stolas’ face. “Would you… care to join me?”

And Blitz was mildly ashamed to admit how every cell in his body lit up with a chorus of hallelujahs the likes of which should have burned him alive with their intensity, but he managed to say, “Hell yeah.”

Five minutes, four types of bath salts, and three instances of Blitz having to tell his dick to calm the fuck down later, the two sat on opposite ends of the elaborately-decorated and frankly unnecessarily huge bathtub. Blitz practically had to stand up in the thing just to keep his head above the water, but the happy look on Stolas’s face was worth it.

Unfortunately, the happy look didn’t have anything to do with anything sexy that Blitz was doing, and was instead the result of how much he was enjoying preening his feathers in the fancy, fragrant soap suds.

“I can’t wait until we move into the new place,” he whined, loofa-ing himself as though it were the last bath he’d ever take. “That clawfoot tub is going to be my savior.”

Blitz cringed slightly. “Wow, didn’t realize our tub was that shitty, sorry.”

“It’s not that.” Stolas’ concerned expression was made rather comical by the halo of soap suds that surrounded it. “It’s just rather small, and grooming feathers isn’t actually all that easy when you don’t have the usual resources.”

Blitz watched as he combed at a particularly unruly patch of feathers, flicking a few away in embarrassment when they came out. 

“Yeah, well you can bird bath til your heart’s content in about two weeks,” he replied, leaning back on the lip of the tub and cricking his neck, figuring he may as well at least attempt to relax.

Stolas punctuated the conversation by submerging himself completely under water for a second before popping back up, now considerably less sudsy. Before Blitz could say anything utterly hilarious regarding Stolas being wet for him, said bird brain shook out his feathers, fluffing them out and pelting Blitz in the face with droplets of water.

“Oh- Sorry!” Stolas exclaimed, a look of mild horror crossing his features.

But Blitz just chuckled. “Hey, how come I’ve never noticed all your preening before? I could have been making so many jokes about it this whole time.”

“ You never wanted to stay for bathtime when I offered,” Stolas pointed out, tone cool but not unkind.

Blitz rolled his eyes. “Yeah well, I never knew how hilarious and hot you are at bathtime, so really it’s on you for not selling it right.” 

Stolas giggled again, finally having seemingly finished the utilitarian part of this sexy bath. He opted instead to lean back, murmuring the word, “Divine,” at no one in particular, and rested his arms on the side of the tub.

And something about Stolas no longer perceiving him knocked Blitz’s guard down just enough and ugh, there were the fucking feelings again, yapping at him like they were Fizz’s weird little Fly-Dog things begging for food. He’d been fighting against them all day and honestly, he was fucking tired. He wanted to relax.

So he let them be, sighed, leaned his cheek against his hand, elbow resting on the side of the tub, and just looked. Fuck it, right?

Stolas’ voice broke the trance as he sat back up, looking at him once more.  “Thank you for this, Blitz. This is-well…” He looked askance for a moment, an embarrassed flush forming on his cheeks as his hands fidgeted where they rested on the edges of the tub. “This is probably the most romantic evening of my entire life.” 

The statement bewildered Blitz for about half a second before he remembered that, oh yeah, not like fuckin’ Stella was ever romantic with him, and they’d gotten married so young that any other paramours Stolas might have had throughout his life would either have been inexperienced, or something more clandestine or transactional like the two of them once were. 

That was a fucking crime. If Blitz were half as rich as any of the Goetia, he would have taken Stolas on a date a hundred times this romantic. He’d buy every ring of Hell for Stolas if he could. (He was glad no one could hear his inner thoughts because if they could, Blitz would have to kill them.)

He took a breath. His ‘ sincere moment, deflect, deflect! ABORT!!!’ sensors fired on all cylinders, but dammit he was trying to be better about this shit. 

“Well. Doesn’t have to be a one time thing.” He desperately tried to keep his tone even, not quite able to bring himself to look forward as he placed a hand on the side of the tub, walking his fingers along the lip of it as he spoke. “Business has been good, we can afford to do something nice every now and then…”

With trepidation befitting a bomb defusal, Blitz scooped up Stolas’ hand and held it.

“I mean, you know, if you’d be interested in doing something like this again.”

“Yes,” Stolas said immediately, blushing like they hadn’t fucked a thousand times in a thousand nasty ways, seemingly entranced by what felt, to Blitz, like the bare minimum of romantic gestures. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something else, and Blitz waited. But instead, Stolas leaned forward and crossed the tub, crawling into his lap and leaning down to pull him into a kiss. Blitz kissed back immediately, gathering as much of him in his arms as he could reach.

Honestly, who the fuck was he lately? Answering calls consistently, romantic dinners, contemplating… things? Emotion-related things ? It was bizarre, and a significant part of him still completely shunned away the idea that anything like this could ever be real; could ever happen to him. 

And yet, somehow, here they were. And all the fear forming a pit in his chest had another side to it; one that was thrilling and new and full of promises of highs the likes of which he’d never be able to achieve on any horse tranquilizer he’d ever done.

Stolas wrapped his long limbs around him and held on tightly. Blitz wasn’t complaining, just as unwilling to let go. He was in the middle of round four of telling his dick to pipe the fuck down (which he then realized was a poor choice of words) when Stolas made a noise into his mouth that was somewhere between a sigh and a whine, and Blitz officially lost the battle to his dick’s whims. Thankfully, Stolas didn’t seem to mind, grinding down into his lap in a way that unraveled him utterly with embarrassing expediency.

It had always been something of a dance for Blitz with his favorite bird being so much taller than him, but they’d spent extended periods of time together and he knew all the intricacies of the moves by now. Keeping a hand anchored on his waist, he let the other venture south, grabbing at a slender, feathery hip, his thumb finding the soft part of his inner thigh and massaging slow, purposeful circles.

In the past, Blitz had tended to lose himself in the dopamine rush of it all, preferring to act in the moment rather than worry about whether any given move was the correct one. But now, he was definitively sober, watching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation…

Or at least he was, until Stolas paused to whisper the word Darling, into his mouth. 

This bird and his fuckin’ diminutives.  It used to piss him off, but somewhere along the way it had become one of his favorite things, something special bestowed upon him by someone who thought he was special. 

And with that, whatever awful, greedy creature that lived inside his being took hold. The hand on his waist now snaked around his lower back to pull him in closer, nails digging into the feathers there, while his other hand dove between his legs, rubbing deftly.

The absolute keen that echoed against the fancy bathroom tiles would sustain Blitz’s ego for the next three weeks. He made deliberately teasing patterns with his fingers, finding a rhythm that he knew his bird liked. He had to crane his neck to get a look at the expression on Stolas’ face, but it was worth it. Blitz smirked and opted to pull him close instead, the hand on his waist clawing at the feathers there and scratching at the skin beneath as he leaned in to kiss and bite at whatever inch of his chest he could get his teeth on.

Stolas gripped the sides of the tub, breathing heavily and rolling his hips into Blitz’s hand. The water sloshed around them, and Blitz had a passing thought about how he sure hoped they wouldn’t have to illegally avoid paying for water damage later, but there wasn’t anything to be done about it because he was not stopping.

“ Blitz, ” Stolas panted, tone growing desperate. “ I… ”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured back. He felt a smile creep onto his face. “ Pretty bird… You’re doing so good. So fuckin’ good for me .”

Stolas went rigid, made the absolute best fucking noise Blitz had ever heard, and arched back as his whole body trembled. A second later, he moved to stop Blitz’s hand, shaking and oversensitive, before going boneless in his arms with a groan. Blitz had to scrabble just a little to keep his head completely above water, chuckling and holding him close.

Stolas breathed heavily for a long moment before shifting, long bird limbs seemingly heavy, and moving so that he could kiss him again. Blitz caught the blissful expression on his face, and let his pride swell to levels that would annoy the fuck out of anyone else he knew.

Stolas’ voice was a fucking wet dream. “I want you.”

And, honestly, FUCK YES, but the tiny part of Blitz’s mind that was still able to remember the concept of practicality managed to spring to the surface. 

“I didn’t bring condoms,” he sputtered. Of course he didn’t; he didn’t think they’d get this far. He spoke quickly, trying to get the information out as fast as possible so they could be done being responsible and get to the fucky stuff. “But I haven’t been with anyone else, so I’m fine if you are.”

Stolas froze. When Blitz’s eyes refocused, wide-eyed dread had crept into his expression. “I- Uhhh…”

The endorphin crash that occurred in response to those words could not be overstated. Blitz’s heart felt like it had dropped out of his torso and gone straight down the drain. “...Oh” 

“I-it wasn’t-!” Stolas stammered, and Blitz tried not to shrink inward and scream internally about how he’d gotten ahead of himself yet fucking again. 

“It was that awful party at Verosika’s,” Stolas frantically explained. “We’d had that fight and- and I thought I’d never see you again- and I was upset and I- I just-”

“Stolas, it’s okay,” he said, trying to cut off his panic.

But Stolas didn’t seem swayed. “It didn’t mean anything, and we used protection, and it- honestly it didn’t even last very long, but I-”

“It’s okay, really.”

If he were being honest, it wasn’t completely okay. There was absolutely a part of Blitz - vile, ugly, and baser in nature - that hated the idea that whatshisfuck from Verosika’s shitty party had touched Stolas, had stolen his attention, even if only for a moment. In reality, he knew the guy meant jack. He knew Stolas was here with him now, he knew how he felt… 

But that didn’t mean he didn’t fucking hate it . 

Stolas looked halfway to tears, seemingly unable to look at him anymore. “I’m so sorry.” 

But the thing was, Blitz had absolutely no right to be mad at Stolas. He could be mad about his past mistakes all he wanted. He could (and probably would, later) sit and stew and think about how much he hated that he didn’t get his head out of his ass sooner, that he didn’t tell Stolas back then how he shouldn’t be with that guy, shouldn’t be with anyone but… but they were broken up. Hell, they’d never been exclusive in the first place. They weren’t explicitly exclusive now … he made a mental note to clarify that later.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Blitz insisted. “It’s fine. We were… you were going through a lot. I get it.”

Even when looking absolutely dismal, a part of Blitz found it kind of cute. “I hate that I did it.”

“Stolas, look at me.” Blitz waited til he did. His eyes were glassy. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Stolas didn’t look convinced. 

“I feel like I keep fucking everything up,” he admitted.

Blitz sighed, about done with these fuckin emotions for one day. “Yeah, well; I’m fucked, you’re fucked, it makes sense. I mean we keep finding our way back here, there’s gotta be some sort of Fucked Magnet fuckery going on.”

And Stolas didn’t laugh, but Blitz could tell he wanted to. “You’re being too kind again.”

“Tough luck, get used to it.”

Lucifer who the fuck WAS HE lately? 

And then, against all odds, he felt just good enough to try his luck. “Hey, come on…”

Maybe it was just the pent up sexual frustration coursing through his veins and threatening to burst his arteries, he didn’t know. But he reached up to gather that adorable face in his hands, fingers stroking at the soft feathers lining his jaw. 

He felt himself smile a little. “Romantic evening, remember?”

Stolas didn’t say anything, just letting himself be held, expression weary. Blitz kissed him for a long moment before moving to those same jaw feathers, pressing his lips to that long neck and thinking, with increasing intensity, about biting it later.

But Stolas was being passive, and the last sensible part of Blitz clawed its way out. He paused and pulled back to look at him. 

“Want me to stop?”

There was only a half-second of hesitation before Stolas shook his head. 

Chapter Text

She really should have told him by now. 

She’d known since Sinsmas, and it wasn’t like the problem was just going to go away if she sat around and didn’t tell her damn husband that…

But the whole thing was scary and complex and it was so much more fun to watch her lovesick disaster of a best friend finally admit that he was a lovesick disaster and attempt to have an honest-to-Satan relationship - something she’d never seen him come remotely close to in the whole time she’d known him. 

After returning from their particularly bizarre job involving a creepy little suburb with identical houses and a double homicide (them only being responsible for the second homicide, thank you very much), Moxxie had taken the opportunity of Stolas running to the bathroom to practically drag Blitz bodily to the office computer and help him make a reservation at the restaurant in Lust’s Little Italy, minimizing the window before he came back in. Millie half expected Blitz to bark about how the two of them were being overbearing, but he was strangely docile the whole time, and she could tell he was secretly grateful for the support. 

A while later, Blitz had seemed to calm down, or at least had seemed to put on a brave facade, as he stood in his one nice shirt ( awww, he wore the nice one) enthusiastically regaling Stolas with the tale of their kill for the day as they prepared to leave the office.

“I wanna come on the serial killer mission next time,” Loona piped up from the corner. 

Stolas smiled at him. “Yes, it sounds rather thrilling. It seems as though you had your hands full with this one.”

“Ha! Had my hands full of brains is more like it!” Blitz replied, full of bravado. “That fucker’s head fuckin’ exploded when I strangled him! He gushed blood everywhere! It was like a fountain! But blood!”

There was a long moment of silence as everyone in the room stared at him. Millie could feel herself grimace. Then, Stolas let out a little giggle. Then another, and another and- oh. Yep. That was genuine laughter .

“Oh, y’all are meant for each other,” she muttered. Next to her, Moxxie tried to suppress a snort.

She smiled as the two of them walked out together, Stolas looking positively thrilled when Blitz took his hand. Her heart swelled. Call it instinct or hunch or wishful thinking, but she had a distinct feeling that they’d be okay.

Loona made her exit a while after, considerably less enthused and curious about how the date was going than she and Moxxie were. 

“Come on,” Millie chided. “Ya gotta admit they’re pretty cute together.”

“Yeah, sure,” she replied glumly. “I just know I’m gonna have to deal with them when the fuckin’ sexual tension finally boils over.”

Moxxie grimaced slightly. “Uhhh, your room in the new place wouldn’t happen to be next to theirs, would it?”

“Oh, it’s on the opposite side of the apartment,” she deadpanned, clearly five steps ahead of him.

“Good call,” Millie remarked.

And with that, Loona tossed out a cursory goodbye and left her and Moxxie to lock up.

But, unfortunately, the distractions being gone meant that her problem was apparent again. She watched as Moxxie diligently filed some paperwork away (there had been considerably more of it since Stolas had joined the team) and guilt seeped into her chest. Here she was lecturing Blitz on being a good partner when she wasn’t acting like one at all. 

Fuck this. She had to tell him. She took a breath. 

“Hey, Mox-“

But unfortunately she didn’t get anything else out because, just then, the window shattered. 

Dammit, now she’d have to reset the counter.

When she whipped around, she saw a figure rise from where it had landed, a pile of glass beneath its boot-clad feet. As it stood, the wide brim of the had he wore rose and revealed a wide, gold-toothed grin.

“The fuck are you doin’ here?” she barked.

“‘Sup, Millie?” Striker greeted. “Whatshisface.”

“You know my fucking name, asshole!” said Moxxie.

“What fuckin’ rock did you crawl out from?” Millie snarled next to him.

“Don’t worry yer pretty little head about it.” His tone was flippant. Casual in a way that suggested he didn’t see the two of them as a threat, which was fucking rich of him considering they’d kicked his ass before.

Striker’s beady eyes flitted around the office, settling back on the two of them. “Where’s yer boss?”

Millie reacted faster than Moxxie could, lunging at Striker with bared teeth, attempting a tackle. But Striker was faster, and responded with a swift kick to the stomach that sent her flying.

She slammed into the far wall, landing in the glass, instantly feeling several cuts form. How the fuck had that even happened?! Was the stress of this whole pregnancy thing knocking her off her game?

…Oh shit.

She took a second too long, trying to turn off her ‘ignore the pain and keep going’ defenses so that she could take stock of how bad that kick actually was, and by the time she looked up again, there had been a scuffle, and Striker had Moxxie pinned to the wall by the throat, ornately decorated dagger pointed at his chin. Panic swirled in the pit of her chest. 

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” Striker told Moxxie. 

Millie’s blood boiled. On instinct, she reached for one of the several knives she tended to keep holstered on her at all times (nothing crazy, only five or six, Industry standard, really) and let her wrist whip with particular fervor as she sent it flying toward that hand and hitting its mark, causing Striker to yelp and drop the dagger. She tried to avoid further damage from the glass as she scrambled to get to them. After another brief shuffle, Striker had slammed Moxxie down on the desk, likely breaking the computer’s keyboard and, knocking the phone over. But before she could reach them, Striker used his free hand to pull out a rather ostentatiously decorated revolver (Satan, did this guy own any normal weapons or was he this much of an asshole?) and aimed it directly at her. She froze, but bared her teeth at him, eyes darting around as she searched for any sort of opening. She knew it would reveal itself soon enough, because Striker was now definitively frazzled, hat knocked askew and blood tricking from the wound in his hand. 

He snarled, “I ain’t contracted to kill either of ya, but if y’all keep fuckin’ gettin’ in my way, then-”

He trailed off, something clearly having caught his eye. A moment later, that fuckass grin crept onto his face once more. 

“Heh. Fancy.” Millie’s stomach dropped when she realized he was looking at the computer screen, where Moxxie crashing into the keyboard had brought up the page containing the restaurant reservation he and Blitz had made earlier in the afternoon. “He on a date with that blue blood bitch of his?” 

“Who the fuck keeps sending you after Stolas?” Moxxie wheezed, hands tugging at where Striker had his neck pinned.

But Striker just kept grinning. “Who said I’m after him?”

That pulled her up short. She exchanged a quick glance with Moxxie, but Striker was faster once again, reeling back before cold cocking Moxxie hard with the butt of his gun. Millie sprinted at him once more, pure unadulterated rage coursing through her veins, jumped onto his back, and attempted to get him into a head lock. The two struggled for several seconds before Striker managed to slam her head against the wall. She crumpled to the floor and tried not to throw up from the pain and the vertigo (or, if she did, to aim it at those asshole boots of his. No such luck). 

A second later, she felt someone dig around in her pockets, and by the time she willed her eyes to focus again, she was able to catch the tail end of Striker throwing something out the tenth story window. Vaguely, she realized it was both their phones. 

“Can’t have ya callin’ and warnin’ them two idiots.” He grinned as he yanked the landline out of the wall for good measure.

“I’ll catch y’all lovebirds some other time,” he tossed over his shoulder before walking with an infuriatingly casual swagger, slamming the office’s door behind him.

Moxxie coughed. “Oh, so you’ll go out the door.”

She nearly threw up two more times while attempting to right herself, quickly made sure that Moxxie was alright, and managed to get out, “Come on, we gotta get to Lust.”

“Wait, hold on!” Moxxie grabbed onto her arm. “You’re bleeding!”

Shit.

Fuck. 

“Let me get the gauze,” he urged, rushing toward a cabinet, grabbing their weapons go-bag for good measure. “We can bandage you up on the way to the Hell-o-vater.”

Oh. 

He meant-

Oh….

Thankful that Blitz had left them the van that day, Millie set about hurriedly bandaging the worst of her cuts as Moxxie tore out of the parking lot.

And really, this was not the time to get upset over this whole thing. The fear, the uncertainty, the strange disgust, the awful hope, and the rotting guilt she felt for not telling Moxxie about any of it. She knew there were more important things going on right now, which was the only reason she didn’t burst into tears, instead going quiet as she quickly removed the glass from her own skin, painful in an oddly grounding way as Moxxie drove like a bat out of… well, Hell.

No sign of Striker as they wove around the traffic and made their way down a few rings. Millie remained quiet, now more nauseated by all the emotions swirling in her chest than anything else.

And Moxxie - attentive, caring, wonderful Moxxie - noticed her quiet, and his response of reaching out to take her hand and murmuring, “It’ll be okay. We can’t be far behind him,” only mad her feel worse.

Moxxie nearly caused three accidents as he sped through the luminous streets of Lust. Millie was starting to feel hopeful that maybe they’d beat him to the restaurant and they could get Blitz and Stolas out of there before he arrived, or at least be able to meet him as a group. An armed group.

But those dreams were dashed as they rounded the last corner, the restaurant now in view. There were two very familiar figures of drastically differing heights walking out the front door, and a third figure lurking just out of view, readying a whip.

“There!” Millie shouted, and Moxxie hit the gas hard, swerving with a loud screech so that Millie could use the momentum to leap out the window and tackle Striker, knocking him sideways and onto the ground.

“Ow! Fuckin’-!” he sputtered as the two of them tussled. She got him in the headlock successfully this time, craning her neck to see if Moxxie was near. Briefly, she caught him running toward her and… Stolas and Blitz a little ways down the street, Blitz having leapt up onto a garden wall to be at eye-level, and Stolas laughing as they walked in the opposite direction.

Not that she wanted to ruin their date, but she figured they should know the fuckin’ situation at hand. She was just about to shout Blitz’s name, but she realized too late that she’d let her guard down just enough, Striker suddenly reeling forward and slamming her back into the ground, knocking the wind out of her.

Fuckin’ ass she was off her game today. 

Striker got out of her grasp almost instantly and attempted to scramble down the alleyway as Blitz and Stolas continued to walk away, arm in arm, completely oblivious. Moxxie finally caught up and the two of them bolted after him. Moxxie tossed her a shot gun, and they started firing heavily. Ahead of them, Striker was deliberately knocking over trashcans to obstruct their path, but they were unrelenting. Finally, he leapt to take cover behind a dumpster, turned around and started shooting back in earnest. They dove behind one of the downed cans, now in a two-against-one shootout.

And it was likely the adrenaline or the pain or the anything about this situation, but she felt something twist in the pit of her stomach, deep and aching. She froze.

“Are you okay?” Moxxie asked, trying to get a shot off on their quarry with little success. “He hit you pretty hard, you’re not bleeding internally, are you?”

This was really not the time to say this, but she couldn’t do it anymore.

“I’m pregnant!”

Moxxie stopped firing, thankfully remembering to duck back down before he stared blankly at her. There was a silence just long enough for her to start worrying about Striker getting away.

He blinked at her. “You’re what-?”

The gunfire started up again, this time from the enemy side. It seemed that Striker was merely reloading. She did so as well, mounting the rifle as best she could before firing back. “I’m pregnant, alright?”

Moxxie seemed to snap out of whatever reverie he’d been in and joined her, firing rapidly and erratically. “That- That’s…”

“Not what we talked about, I know,” she replied, unable to even see where that fucker’s face was popping up, the slippery asshole.

Moxxie paused to reload. “Okay, I mean… I know we said ‘maybe someday,’ but- I didn’t think someday would come this early!”

“I didn’t either!”

“How long have you known?”

She cringed. “A while.”

“How long is a while?”

She was losing track of how many times this evening she’d had to swallow down bile. “Sinsmas?”

“ Sinsmas?!” He ducked as more bullets flew over his head. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I’m sorry!” Crying was not ideal for the situation they were in, but she was about to do it anyway. She choked it back on pure adrenaline. “I’ve been freakin’ out! I don’t know what to do!”

“Yeah, but-” A pause for return fire before he looked at her once more. “I thought I was someone you could talk to when you’re freaking out and don’t know what to do.”

The sadness in his eyes may as well have been a dagger to the chest. “You are! You are, Mox, I just- Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, listen, it’s alright,” he said, seeming to remember their situation as he started reloading once more. “We’ll figure this out, alright?”

And her heart broke with how much she loved him, but the practical part of her brain spotted the short-range grenade that had rolled out of the weapons bag. She grabbed it, ripped out the pin, and threw it with all her might. They both ducked and covered their ears as the explosion ripped past them, hidden in the lee of the trash cans they crouched behind. When they looked back up, Millie saw a hole blown in the brick wall, several rather upset looking restaurant patrons just beyond it, and a figure retreating at the end of the alleyway. 

“Satan dammit,” she growled. “Come on!”

They chased him down the dimly lit back alleys, past several transactional blowjobs, through a fancy-looking square bustling with couples, under the waterfall spray of a rather suggestive looking fountain, and eventually back out to the front of some ornately decorated hotel. Just inside, they could see Striker, revolver pointed at the concierge.

“An imp with a bunch a’ scars and a tall ass bird,” he snarled as she and Moxxie ran into the lobby. “I saw ‘em come in here. What room?”

The poor concierge was shaking. “Look, I don’t wanna get fired.”

Striker simply cocked his revolver. “You wanna get fired at ?! Tell me the room.”

“420,” they answered immediately. “Blaze it. Wait- no- don’t blaze it! ”

By this point, Millie had gotten her own gun out, and she was about done with asking nicely. She pulled the trigger-

The gun clicked, but didn’t fire. She pulled it again with the same results. Striker heard the clicks, whipping around with his own pistol, and she moved to jump out of the way when his own gun misfired as well. 

Fuck. The suggestive fountain. The guns had all gotten wet.

Striker seemed to realize this at the same time she did, stowing the revolver and making a break for it instead. Millie and Moxxie gave chase and quickly, it became clear that he was going to make this more complicated than it needed to be by a long shot, opting to kick off one of the vent grates and crawl in in an attempt to lose the two of them. On brand for him.

“You go after him!” she told Moxxie. “I’ll get up to the room!”

And despite everything they’d been through in the last few hours, there was no reservation in his voice when he shouted, “On it!” and disappeared after Striker, Millie peeling off to take the stairs.

—---------------------------------------------------

“Want me to stop?”

There was only a half-second of hesitation before Stolas shook his head.

All things considered, the evening had turned out fairly well. There had been some nerves, some hesitation, a revelation or two that Blitz would rather not dwell on…

But how could he complain when the whole thing had ended with them on some fancy hotel bed, smelling like fancy bath salts, with his head buried between Stolas’ thighs as his voice filled the room with soft exaltations of Blitz’s name?

And fuck he’d missed being here. It was his favorite fucking spot in all of Hell and it had been months since he’d gotten to be here. Stolas’ hands fisted in the fancy ass bedspread, back arching. His voice was breathy in that absolutely addicting way it got sometimes. Blitz hadn’t even fucked him yet, but he was rock hard like he’d never been, already halfway to his own orgasm just from listening to that voice.

He smiled (as much as he could when he mouth was so busy) and gripped tighter at his hips, pulling at the feathers there just slightly. Stolas’ thighs shook as they pressed against either side of his head, muffling his cries. Blitz focused on the task at hand, getting lost in the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. He vaguely heard something crash in the background ant one point and felt a surge of pride knowing that Stolas was experiencing “knocking things over” levels of enjoyment.

But a second later, Stolas’ thighs released his head, and Blitz felt instant confusion as, he now attempted to scramble away.

“Blitz! It’s the assassin!”

“Uhhh.” He paused, looking up at Stolas’ very convincingly startled expression. “I don’t know if we should be jumping back into roleplay this soon.”

Stolas now looked halfway between panic and wanting to slap him. 

“ Eugh,” a voice spoke from behind him. Blitz whipped around to find Striker standing there, nose scrunched up in disgust. The crashing sound, as it turned out, had been the vent grate crashing to the floor where Striker had seemingly accessed their room.

“Satan’s taint, she was right,” he said. “Y’all are fuckin’ horny freaks.”

And Blitz could write a fucking dissertation on how simultaneously correct and incorrect that sentence was, but chose to instead channel all the pent up frustration he was feeling into lunging at Striker, attempting to tackle the knife out of his hand. They tussled for a moment before Blitz had him pinned to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stolas lean forward, gaze intense, before his expression turned panicked. His instincts to use his powers had clearly kicked in.

Striker thrashed against his grip. “Gah! Get yer boner offa me!” 

“Who the fuck keeps sending you?” Blitz snarled. “And why are they after Stolas?”

“Oh I ain’t after ol’ birdie,” Striker replied with a menacing smile. “I’m here for you. ”

Wait. The fuck?

“Wait, the fuck?! ”

Damn, he was good with words.

Striker tried to jerk out of his grasp, but Blitz managed to hold him down, grinning up at him definitely. “Oh yeah. Someone wants yer purdy ass real bad. ”

“Yeah, flattered, but I’ve kind of got someone right now,” Blitz deadpanned back, determined to wipe that grin off his face.

It worked. “ Why the fuck is it always a sex thing with you people!?!? ”

“Ha!” he barked. “You walked right into that one!”

Just then, who should burst through the vent but Moxxie.

“Sir! Someone put a hit on you!”

“Great job, Mox,” Blitz responded dispassionately.

The next second, Striker swiped at him with the dagger once more, teeth bared. Blitz quickly ducked out of the way before lunging for the knees to tackle him, knocking the knife out of his hand, where it flew in the general direction of the bed.

Filled with sudden panic, Blitz turned to shout, “Stolas, get down!” and the moment of distraction was enough for Striker to get him into a headlock. In the corner of his eye, he saw Stolas roll off the bed taking the blanket with him to hide behind it. He was just beginning to see spots in his vision when there was a dull thud and the arms around his neck went limp enough for him to escape them. When he looked up, Millie stood over Striker, grinning. Behind her, the hotel room door looked distinctly kicked in, if the broken deadbolt was anything to go by.

“Nice,” Blitz told her as Moxxie moved to bind Striker’s hands behind his back with a pair of-

“What, did you stop to do some shopping on your way here?” Blitz remarked. 

“It’s a hotel in Lust,” Moxxie shot back, unamused as he fastened the pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs tightly. “They’re in every room.”

“Damn, good to know.”

Behind him, Millie rifled through a drawer for a moment before tossing Moxxie a coil of red rope. Once they’d secured his arms and legs sufficiently, they sat him up as he seemed to come to.

“Fuck,” he growled, voice tinged with resignation.

And now Striker was in trouble: not because Moxxie now had a knife pointed at his neck, but because he had donned his Serious Voice. “Now, who the fuck keeps hiring you? And why are do they want Blitz dead?!”

Striker, seemingly more annoyed than anything else, struggled against the ropes before Moxxie shoved the tip of the knife against his throat. He gasped as the blade cut shallowly into his skin, blood trickling down his neck.

“Tell us now, ” Moxxie outright growled.

Striker seemed to wrestle with something internally, giving one more cursory tug at his bindings before he let out a frustrated sound.

“Who the fuck do ya think?” he spat. “Who’d want ol’ birdie dead and then, once his life got all fucked up, would want to make it even worse by killin’ this asshole?”

There was a beat of deafening silence. Blitz was pretty sure they all realized it at once, but Stolas got there first.

“Stella.”

Striker lolled his head back dramatically. “Well at least one of y’all’s got space in their horny-ass brains.”

Moxxie’s eyes widened. “She wants you to kill Blitz… to hurt Stolas?”

“Look,” Striker glared up at them. “I’m mostly in it for the money, but also, I fuckin’ hate y’all. So I’ll kill whichever one of y’all that fancy ass bitch will pay for. Consider it only slightly personal.”

Blitz had heard enough. “Mills. Window.”

And M&M knew exactly what he was going for because the next moment, he and Moxxie were heaving a protesting Striker bodily out the hotel window. A few moments later, there was the sound of shouting a ways down. ( ‘You unholy fucks that was like four fuckin’ stories. Ah!!! My fuckin’ leg!!!!!” ) The next second, Millie shut the window.

“Well,” Blitz remarked. “He’ll be out of commission for a while.”

“Uh. Sir,” Moxxie gestured awkwardly to Blitz’s still very much naked figure.

“Oh what the fuck ever, Mox, you’ve all seen it.”

The next moment his vision was obscured as his bath towel hit him in the face, Millie having scooped it up from where he’d discarded it on the floor earlier. He rolled his eyes but wrapped it around his waist. 

“What the fuck is Stolas’ ex-wife’s problem?” she spat, irate. “The poor thing has been minding his fuckin’ business for months and now she wants to kill Blitz just to ruin his life again?! ”

In the corner of his vision, Blitz was aware of Stolas rising from his hiding spot, moving to sit on the bed facing away from them, blanket still wrapped around his frame. He said nothing.

“I mean, we knew she wasn’t very nice, but I didn’t know she was fucking insane. ” Moxxie was definitely about to start a Rant™ but Blitz cut him off.

“Uh guys. Maybe we should, uhh….”

And thank Satan for Millie because she caught on with one quick glance. “We’ll go confirm what hospital he ends up at so we can keep an eye on him. Y’all should be safe here for now, and once ya move it’ll be harder for him to find out where ya live.”

Blitz took a breath. “Yeah. We’ll figure it out. Thanks guys.”

Stolas didn’t acknowledge M&M as they walked out of the room, adding to the growing pile of bad fucking signs. The cherry on top of said pile was the frozen, wide-eyed anxiety on his face when Blitz walked over to him, gaze locked on the middle distance. Blitz inserted himself into his line of sight, his hand reaching to hesitantly rest on his knee.

“Hey…”

His voice sounded far away. “She’s trying to have you killed because of me.”

Blitz had noticed before that Stolas had a distinctly concerning lack of self-preservation instincts and right now was no exception. “She tried to have you killed.” 

“Stella hating me enough to want me dead is nothing new,” he insisted, as though that were supposed to make Blitz feel better. “But hating me enough to want you dead?”

“Look, we’ve dealt with Striker before, right? We can figure this out.”

“And I was useless then as well!” Fuck, he was spiraling. “I was caught off guard when he kidnapped me, now he attacks you and I couldn’t do anything to protect you!”

“Stolas-”

“Without my power, what is even the point of me ?” He wasn’t even looking at Blitz anymore, eyes wide as he grabbed at the feathers on his head. “What’s the fucking point of even having me around?!”

“Plenty!” Blitz felt his defenses flare at that, although he vaguely realized it wasn’t himself about whom he was feeling so defensive. “Look, I’m not that easy to kill, alright? I’ve never wanted to be with you because I wanted to use you as a shield or some shit.”

Stolas’ gaze snapped back to his, expression suddenly icy. “No, just to use me for my grimoire.”

Stiker had gotten one good hit on the side of his jaw earlier, but the gut punch from that sentence was maybe 100 times worse. 

The icy expression melted quickly off of Stolas’ face, replaced by one of utter horror. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I said that, I didn’t even mean it, I-“

Blitz wanted to interrupt his rambling. Cut him off and reassure him, just like he’d been doing. But the nausea from the gut punch still radiated through his stomach, and instead he found he could barely say anything. 

He wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t said anything untrue. To act like this whole thing started because of anything other than Blitz trying to rob him, and that Stolas - who had caught feelings long before Blitz had ever entertained the idea of allowing feelings to even exist - wouldn’t be affected by Blitz’s blatant manipulation, would be utterly delusional. Blitz knew he was a piece of shit for it, and he knew that Stolas would be in the right to resent him for it…

And so the resentment starts…

No. Fuck that. He was trying to face his own defeatism and… and…

Vaguely, he realized Stolas was still rambling a characteristically verbose apology and finally managed to speak up, barely.  

“It’s okay. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. 

Stolas looked about ready to cry, and despite everything: despite the guilt and the painfully true words and the sinking feeling that he was just going to fuck this whole thing up and that loving anyone was a losing battle (and also that, oh Satan dammit, he’d just thought the word love after a day of trying not to), he still wanted to reach out and kiss that heart-shaped face until it smiled at him again.

“Look, let’s just…” He took a breath in an attempt to calm himself. His whole chest hurt. ”Let’s just go to bed.”

Stolas, it seemed, couldn’t look him in the eye. “Alright.”

And Stolas might have resented him for tricking him, or ruining his life, or any of the other fucked up things Blitz had done, and the right thing to do would have been to break this whole stupid thing off and let him move on…

But the weaker part of him seemed to be in control, and it couldn’t lay in the same bed as Stolas and not reach out to hold him. For one nauseating second, he thought Stolas might pull away, but a half-second later, he’d wrapped all his long-ass bird limbs around Blitz’s body, holding on tightly. 

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled one more time, tender and emotional, into Blitz’s forehead. 

But Blitz couldn’t answer. 

Chapter Text

He may not have enjoyed living with her, but he’d spent enough time around her to know her schedule by heart.

Stolas stood at the mouth of the alleyway, arms crossed as he waited. Stella always visited the same salon in the Upper part of the city on the first Saturday morning of every month, and he’d waited over two weeks now to catch her.

After their ruined evening in Lust, Blitz had seemed to default back to the chipper version of himself he’d been presenting since Stolas had come to live with him. When he’d first arrived there, he’d found comfort in it, a version of Blitz he’d only seen flashes of back before everything, on the rare occasion that Stolas could get him to tell one of his stories, or talk about something that interested him. 

But lately, it had just made him feel guilty. As if it weren’t enough that Blitz now had an assassin on his tail, but now he had to put on a brave face just to spare Stolas’ feelings. It felt like he was being selfish. Again. 

Their move to the new apartment a few days prior had brought about feelings of exceptional inadequacy. He’d stood in the bedroom - their bedroom - and it had hit him just how permanent this was starting to feel. But what kind of presence in Blitz’s life could he be if all he did was bring misfortune? He’d resolved then to start pulling his weight. He didn’t just want Blitz to care for him or dote on him, he wanted…

Right on cue, Stella traipsed out the salon doors, tossing her long, luxurious feathers over her shoulder. 

Something seized in his chest. He hadn’t spoken to her in months and, frankly, he preferred it that way. But he needed to try. He braced himself, inhaled, and stepped into her view. She looked taken aback at him stepping into her walking path before frowning.

“Oh, it’s you, ” she scoffed, tone haughty and dripping with disdain. “What on earth are you wearing? Is that shirt off the rack ?”

“I know you sent the assassin after Blitz.” He tried to remain calm but firm, willing the tension in his shoulders that had formed upon seeing her to calm. “Call him off.”

To his chagrin, and oppressively heavy dismay, she let out a laugh, cackling at full volume before answering him. “Or you’ll what? You’re powerless now. You’re also banished and aren’t even allowed be here.” 

“This stops now, Stella,” he tried again. “I don’t care what you do to me. Hire ten assassins to kill me if you like, but leave him out of this.”

She wretched. “You’re disgusting, you know that? Throwing away your whole fucking life for some imp dick? You’re a disgrace. No wonder your daughter wants nothing to do with you.”

His fists balled at his sides. “Leave Via out of this.”

“You know, hating you is maybe the first thing we’ve really bonded over.” She gave the distinct impression that she didn’t take him the least bit seriously. “Finally, something I can relate to.”

“Why are you so angry with me?!” He told himself he wouldn’t plead, but she had a special talent for making him feel pathetic. “What have I ever done to make you despise me so?”

“Don’t act like our marriage isn’t your family’s fault!” she sneered. “When I was promised as a child that I’d wed a prince, I pictured someone dashing and strong. Instead, I got you. A snobbish, worthless bean pole who shook like a pathetic dog whenever I was around, and who was so fucking gay that I practically had to have Octavia on my own!”

There was a tense, sickening twist in the pit of his chest. It made him nauseous. “Oh, so you did know how I felt the whole time, you just didn’t care!”

“I was performing the duty your family gave us!”

“And what about all the times after Via was born?!” They were much younger then, and Stolas knew that he’d need to make certain sacrifices for the good of their family unit, had convinced himself of it. Eventually, she’d stopped making him… But he still thought about it sometimes. “I don’t think you ever even wanted it, you just liked upsetting me! Do you realize how fucked up that is?”

“Oh don’t act all morally superior,” she snarled, rolling her eyes. “You’re the one who cheated!” 

“Why do you even care?! You don’t love me!”

“Of course I don’t fucking love you!” She balled her fists as she screamed at him. Vaguely, he was aware of people on the street pointedly ignoring the two of them, a stark contrast to the population of Imp City, who would likely be taking bets right now on who would win. “But you embarrassed me by letting some imp fuck you in our bed and then had him run through the garden half-naked bragging about it in front of my friends! Do you know how fucking humiliating it was to have them tell the rest of high society about that?!”

“Sounds like you need better friends,” he spat.

“Fuck you!” she spat right back. “You don't get to get away with making me look bad, and you definitely don’t get to be fucking poor and still end up happier than me!”

“When have I ever been happy?!” And, alright. Fuck it. He was pleading. “In the entire time you’ve known me, when have I been happy? You made my life miserable for nearly twenty years, and now you’ve taken my home, my life’s work, my daughter! You’ve won, Stella, please, just leave Blitz out of this!”

“I can’t!” 

Stolas was taken aback as something happened to her expression. He was stunned speechless when he realized she looked upset. Angry, yes, but with a distinct underpinning of something strangely wounded.

“You’re the reason I was never allowed to even think about finding a husband I actually wanted to marry! You’re the reason I was miserable my whole childhood, every time I’d think about your stupid face and beg my father not to make me marry you, every time I wanted to fucking do anything with my fucking life besides be your wife and birth the precautionary heir your family wanted!”

She’d alluded to all this before, plenty of times, but it was the first time she’d been so… blatant about it. A part of him wondered why now?

But it seemed she wasn’t done. “And now you leave me for a fucking imp?!”

“I left you because we were miserable.”

“And you deserve to stay miserable! Everything wrong in my life is your fault, and you are going to suffer for it. You’re never going to see your daughter again, and that disgusting little fucktoy of yours is going to meet his end if it’s the last thing I do!”

Her arm reeled back, aiming what was sure to be a dizzying backhand at his face. He could have chocked it up to the extra time he’d been spending around I.M.P. or the level of vigilance he’d developed in the recent months of living in a less-than-savory neighborhood, but instead of ducking, or flinching, or even blocking, he caught her arm at the wrist and twisted. He felt a sick satisfaction at the startled, pained look on her face, pausing her tirade just long enough for him to get a word in.

“If any harm comes to him, Stella, I swear to Lucifer I will hunt you down myself,” he hissed. “And that goes double if I ever find out you’re treating Octavia with even a fraction of the cruelty you treated me with.”

But she recovered entirely too quickly, shouting at the top of her lungs. “Help! Someone help! My ex-husband is hurting me!!!” 

And the various faces who’d all been pointedly ignoring their argument now turned on him in full force. He shrank under their gaze and let go of her arm as though it had suddenly become red hot. But the second he did so, that evil fucking smirk was back on her face.

He’d said it himself. She’d won. Again. And she knew it. 

“I’d love to see you try. Goodbye, Stolas.” 

She said it definitively before turning and walking away from him, leaving him to stew with more anger in his heart than he’d allowed himself to feel in his entire existence.

—----------------------------------------------------------

Later, he stood in front of the door of their new apartment. He’d utilized the rather inconvenient series of buses to get back to Imp City, and although it was early afternoon by the time he reached their new building, he was just happy that he didn’t get lost.

He was likely retraumatized to some degree by seeking Stella out, and he certainly hadn’t done anything productive. She still had Octavia. She still wanted Blitz dead. And all of it just to spite him.

Stolas took a breath, held it, and stared at the set of keys in his hands for a few seconds, fresh from the copier at the hardware store. His copy. For his apartment that he lived in with his… 

Ugh. What? What the fuck were they even doing? He thought again about how Blitz had been unrelentingly kind, but had also been treating him as though he were some fragile thing. And the worst part is that he wasn’t in the wrong for doing so. Stolas had been fragile. And incompetent and mostly useless. 

He knew, logically, that this thing they had was more than just Blitz being nice because he felt sorry for him, but it was hard to feel like that when he felt like he had nothing to offer him. Blitz hadn’t signed up for any of this when he took him in. He probably felt some degree of… obligation. The thought made him want to cry, and he suddenly understood some of what Octavia might have been feeling.

It hit him in full force for a moment, just how much he felt like he was failing at every possible aspect of life. He had no money, he’d failed his daughter, and he was still in a situation where he was pining after Blitz like a delusional idiot. How pathetic was he?

A sound from the end of the hallway startled him out of his self-loathing reverie and he busied himself with unlocking the door and heading inside.

With a sigh, he tossed his keys on the side table and called out. “Anyone home?”

Suddenly there was a loud bang and a muffled ‘Agh! Fuck!’ from the direction of the bedroom. 

Panic immediately seized Stolas’s chest and he flew for the bedroom door as fast as his feet would carry him.

“Blitz?! What’s wrong, are you al-?”

But there was no Striker; no assassin; no attacker at all. Just Blitz sitting in a pile of boxes, beams of metal and wood of various sizes, a disorganized array of nuts and bolts, and at least five sheets of paper with very small print all over them. Stolas realized it was the bed frame they’d ordered, now half-assembled in the middle of the room. 

“What-” Stolas stuttered. “What are you doing?”

Blitz let out a groan of frustration as he swept the papers aside in annoyance, standing to walk toward Stolas. “I was trying to finish building this stupid thing so that you could come home to a real fuckin’ bed, and I’d say something clever like, ‘It doesn’t have four posts or a canopy, but it does have me in it,’ and then you’d laugh, and… fuck, I’m making it worse, aren’t I?”

Stolas crumpled to his knees then and pulled him tightly into a hug. 

“It’s wonderful,” he murmured into Blitz’s neck. “Thank you.”

Blitz, who had frozen in surprise upon the impact of the hug, now shrugged. “Ah, you know, figured you must have been really sick of the couch.” 

Stolas didn’t move to release him, and after a moment, Blitz wrapped his arms tentatively around him. “You okay?” 

“I tried to talk to Stella,” he mumbled into Blitz’s shoulder. “It didn’t go well.”

“What?” Blitz pulled back to look him in the face, but still holding him close. Stolas was relieved as he very much did not want to let go at the moment. His expression was serious. “What did she say to you?”

“Nothing of substance,” he tried to assure. Tried to bury down all the anxiety and frustration and sadness he’d been drowning in all day. “Really, it was stupid of me to try.”

“What were you trying to do?”

“I…” he trailed off, confused, but Blitz’s question was genuine. He replied, mildly dumbfounded, “Well, to get her to call off her assassination attempts on you, of course.”

He’d figured it would be a no-brainer: it was his ex-wife who was causing all this, so it was his responsibility to deal with her, a task he’d failed at rather stupendously.

But Blitz, giving him emotional whiplash, did not have the reaction Stolas expected him to. He looked angry. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have gone with you! You didn’t have to do that! I don’t want you talking to her just for my sake, she’s hurt you enough already!”

And, oddly, he didn’t have the reaction that he would expect himself to have, something strange and righteous rising from his gut and burning a fire in his belly. “I lived with her for years, I can handle myself around her.”

“I know you can, but that doesn’t mean she’s not a psycho-abusive bitch!” 

Everything in Stolas’ psyche was screaming at him to de-escalate, but… but-

“But you can’t keep fighting my battles for me!” he exclaimed, startling himself with how his emotions seemed to burst forth from him. Ever since that moonlit night when Blitz had come back into his life, he’d been getting worse and worse at hiding them. He attempted a calming breath. “I’ve already been enough of a burden to you. Besides, she’s the mother of my child. I’ll never be truly free of her.”

And he half expected to be immediately on the receiving end of a particularly impassioned ‘ fuck you!!!’ which he braced for, figuring he’d deserve it at least a little. 

But instead, he heard him take a shaky breath. “You’re not a burden.”

Stolas’ gaze snapped back up to find Blitz looking askance. Before he could reply, the imp let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, I get where you’re coming from, but… Fuck, Stols, will you just let me take care of you?”

And while something in him definitely swooned at the question, the thing that had been weighing on his mind all day quickly bubbled to the surface. 

“And who will take care of you?”

Blitz’s eyes were wide when they snapped back to his, expression startled. It reminded him, briefly, of the moment they’d shared on Sinsmas, when Blitz had stayed with him, danced with him, made him laugh, and looked at him almost exactly like that. It was the first moment after the full moon all those months prior that Stolas had felt the weight of it. The reality that they could be something real, and that it would be so much harder and more complicated than he’d ever imagined, but that he still wanted it desperately.

After a pause that seemed to stretch on for eons, Blitz sighed again, a hand coming to rub at his neck, looking tired. “Okay. Yeah. You’re right… Sorry. Just… tell me? Next time you’re gonna go talk to her? At least so you can call me if you need anything.”

He couldn’t help it. His heart swelled. “I will. I’m sorry too.”

Blitz held his arms open and Stolas dove right into them, holding him close and burying his face in his shoulder. A part of him felt like crying, overwhelmed by the entire day and everything it had dredged up, but Blitz’s arms were strong where they held him tight, and he could feel the tension slowly seep out of his weary muscles.

“Okay, so,” Stolas could hear the humor-deflection in Blitz’s voice, unable to find another transition out of the serious, sincere moment. Stolas rolled his eyes affectionately and let him do it.

“I won’t fight all your battles for you anymore, cool.” He pulled back slightly, but only so he could press their foreheads together, reaching up to cradle his face and stroke at the fine feathers on his jaw line, ticking him slightly. “But ya gotta let me fight some of them sometimes. I mean, me jumping into mortal peril for you is kind of sexy, right? Saving the Prince?”

“I’m not a Prince anymore.”

“Yeah well you’re still all pretty and charming like one so close enough.”

He let out a chuckle. “I believe you’re the only one who thinks that.”

“Then I’m the only one who’s not a fucking idiot,” Blitz insisted. “And if that’s true then we’re all royally fucked.”

There was an odd confluence of guilt and amusement and guilt about the amusement that swirled in his chest, and he made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a whine. “You’re being too kind again.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that, and I’ll tell you again that you’ve gotta raise your standards. I mean, shit, if I’m too kind for you, then no one has ever been kind enough to you.” Blitz seemed to hear the veracity in his own tone and cleared his throat awkwardly before promptly lowering his voice to something like a tease once more. “Plus, you know, I can be mean to you, if you ask real nicely.”

This man truly was one of the most endearing people he’d ever met, and despite the absolute swill bucket of a day he was having, he had managed to make Stolas break into giggles once again.

Blitz smiled at him. He seemed to wrestle with something for a moment before starting again, tone tinged with uncertainty. “Listen… I-”

Loona’s voice came from the doorway. “You guys aren’t breaking up over Die-Kea furniture, are you?”

They both startled, Stolas whipping around in his extra-jumpy state and effectively tearing himself from Blitz’s embrace, which he regretted almost instantly.

“No!” Blitz protested. “We were- never mind! Anyway, since you’re here, can you use your young-people powers to find me a fucking Doom-Tube video on how to build this fucking bed frame?”

Loona, as she was wont to do, deadpanned, gesturing to the papers on the floor. “Uh. Aren’t those the instructions?”

“Who the fuck reads the instructions?!”

“You won’t read the instructions, but you want me to find you a video that reads the instructions for you?!”

“What’s weird about that?!”

Stolas cut him off gently. “Why don’t I help? I’m a fast reader.”

Blitz looked slightly conflicted for a moment, clearly disappointed at the lost chivalry of it all, but he eventually sighed. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Loona was already on her way out, typing on her phone as she called over her shoulder. “Alright, well don’t break up, breaking the lease is expensive and I don’t wanna deal with your depressed ass for a whole fuckin month again!”

Blitz stamped his foot in a way Stolas tried not to absolutely melt over. “We’re not breaking up!”

And Stolas knew it was silly. He knew the conversation they just had. But that denial… Once could have been a fluke, but twice was intentional. Him insisting that they weren’t breaking up meant that he considered them to be together at least on some level. Were they together? Lords, he hoped so. 

He was just about to stamp this happy crisis down and move forward when he realized-

“Wait.” The question slipped out of his mouth before he could think better of it. “What was that she said about being depressed for a month?”

Blitz’s face dropped and he looked nervous all of a sudden. “Uhhhhhhhh. Nothin’, it was uhhh… I was… I acted a little, uh, you know. Dramatic? Back when, uh, we weren’t talking.”

And for the love of Lucifer, Stolas was trying not to jump to conclusions anymore but he just couldn’t help it. Despite everything, he felt a smile creep onto his face. “Wait, were you… sad when we were apart?”

Stolas had been fortunate enough to witness Blitz blush a handful of times lately, and yet the novelty had not yet worn off. He looked askance and stammered. “I mean. Yeah, sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”

Stolas could feel the full width of the smirk on his face, the muscles having been underutilized as of late. He leaned into Blitz’s space. “Whatever happened to ‘Too Much Imp to Simp?’”

“Yeah, well, I’m full of shit, alright?” Blitz barked. “What do you want me to say?”

In response, Stolas simply kissed him. Blitz was surprised for a moment before the tension seemed to melt from his shoulders, and his hands found their way back to his jawline, cradling his face, and Stolas felt downright elated, a soft little hoot escaping from his throat as he sighed.

A moment later, Stolas pulled back, heart swelling at the soft expression on Blitz’s face.

“Hey,” he protested weakly. “Don’t spring that on me when I don’t even have a bed to throw you onto.”

Stolas giggled and reached for the mess of papers. “Well, let’s fix that.”

For the next hour or so, Stolas mostly sat on the floor and handed Blitz the correct screws and nuts (as Blitz made several, particularly hilarious jokes regarding screw and nut ) as Blitz built the frame. One hour and surprisingly little bickering later, they shoved the mattress onto the box spring, Blitz introduced Stolas to the concept of putting a fitted sheet on a mattress, and the two collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion, not bothering with such trifles as a comforter or pillows. It was hot out anyway.

“ Uggggh ,” Stolas said, face down in the not particularly impressive but existent mattress. “This is wonderful.”

“Fuck yeah,” Blitz sighed, not bothering to move from where he’d flopped onto his back. “I haven’t had a bed in fuckin’ years. Not since I adopted Looney. It’s nice.”

Stolas hmm’ d and brought his head up to look at him, resting his cheek in his hand. Blitz lay comfortably supine, eyes closed. “Why hadn’t you ever tried to move into a two bedroom before?”

“Couldn’t afford it,” Blitz said simply, not opening his eyes. “Business wasn’t as good. We wouldn’t have been able to afford it without you.”

Stolas blinked in surprise. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Blitz shrugged. “The money you’re making at I.M.P. that goes toward the rent, plus the way you’ve been kicking the schedule’s ass and streamlining clients and writing contracts and shit? You’re great to have around.”

Stolas’ eyes narrowed. “You have a hitman after you because of me.”

“Eh.” Blitz waved a hand casually, voice soft and nonchalant. “That’s just a Tuesday.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“Quit harshin’ my vibe, Birdie.”

Stolas giggled quietly and didn’t say anything else for a while, laying back down and closing his eyes for a long moment, exhausted from the day despite it only being mid-afternoon. When he heard Blitz shift, he opened his eyes to find that he’d fallen asleep, and had rolled onto his side to curl into a ball.

Stolas smiled, getting up from the bed to retrieve the top sheet they hadn’t bothered to put on before draping it over Blitz as best he could.

As he finished his task, the afternoon sun glared in his eyes, and he looked over to see that the blinds were mostly open. The window faced the street, the cacophony of traffic below a consistent, dull background hum, and across the street, at about his eye level, was the rooftop of another building.

No one was up there, and yet Stolas’ stomach twisted as he imagined a figure standing on that rooftop, with a clear view into their bedroom, lining up a shot…

He walked over and shut the blinds completely, crossing his arms and squeezing, like a hug that he vaguely realized Blitz would likely give him if he asked, rather than doing it himself. He looked back to where Blitz was still curled up on the bed, looking downright peaceful as he napped, and a part of Stolas wanted to cry because holy fucking fuck he loved him so much. And Blitz cared. It had been unkind of him to ever think otherwise. He should have more faith in him. He wanted to… but he also wanted to be Blitz’s equal. To be a source of comfort and support. To protect him, like Blitz had protected him so many times.

He felt the emotion build pressure in his chest, as though might burst if kept too long. He squeezed his arms around himself once more, and got an idea.

“Loona?” he asked, having found her in the living room.

“Yeah?” she tossed out, not looking up from her phone.

“I, uh… I have a favor to ask of you.”

That still didn’t get her attention, but the beat of silence that followed finally did, and she glanced up at him.

“Will you-” He cleared his throat nervously. “Will you teach me how to shoot a gun?”

Chapter Text

When he’d started a business, he knew he’d have to deal with clients. All of them were necessary to his work. After all, with no vengeful souls, there’d be no one to murder. And the clients came in an array of types. Some of them were normal, a lot of them were annoying, a few of them were fucking Karens like the one from that morning.

“What kind of business is this?!” she’d bitched and moaned after I.M.P. had completed the damn job she asked for. “You don’t take credit cards, there’s a giant hole in your window, and I get the vibe that your boss is fucking the secretary.”

“Hey I was fucking him way before he was a secretary, bitch!”

“That’s… worse! You get how that’s worse, right?”

There was a short pause as the comment sunk in to the collective psyche of the room. 

“She’s got a point-“

“Can it, Moxxie!”

But this, thankfully, wasn’t that. Instead, they were wrapping up their day with a special mission to the D.H.O.R.K.S. HQ. Whispers through the grapevine had indicated the losers had somehow gotten hold of some rare demon artifacts, and Blitz had rounded up the rest of I.M.P. to ‘liberate’ said artifacts from their clutches (and then subsequently ‘liberate’ the highest interested bidder from their cash).

“ Heads up, ” Loona’s voice came over the walkie talkie. “ Security’s headed your way. You on the roof yet?”

Blitz, from his spot on the fire escape ladder, looked over to see the light of a flashlight, and with a cursory, “ Pick it up, Mills, ” the two of them scrambled the rest of the way up the side of the building and onto the roof just in time for the security guard to stroll by, oblivious. 

Blitz sighed and grabbed the walkie talkie as they made their way to the air vent they needed access to. “We’re here. How long we got?”

“ Anywhere from 5-7 minutes, ” Moxxie’s voice answered. “ Hang tight. ”

Having found the vent they needed, he and Millie sat on top of it, staring out as the sun set over the mortal world. 

“Try not to get captured and forced to do DMT this time,” Millie teased. 

“Honestly, I could use some soul searching,” he replied casually, scratching at his face. “So long as Moxxie doesn’t get the good shit again.”

She chuckled, and the two of them sat in companionable silence for a long moment before Millie spoke again. 

“So,” she sing-songed. “How’s the new apartment?”

“Fine,” he replied with a shrug. “The extra space is nice. Plus, you know, having a bed again.”

“Y’all ‘christened’ it yet?” she said with a smirk, clearly relishing the opportunity to butt in on his romantic life for once. 

He grimaced slightly. “Noooo, not yet.”

“Seriously?” And okay, he knew he was a manwhore but she didn’t have to look that surprised.  “Well, look at y’all bein’ gentlemen! Ya gonna reclaim yer virginities for each other too?”

Frankly, she was owed the negging after all the shit he’d put her through, and he knew he should be a good sport about it, but something nauseating twisted in his chest. 

Millie noticed his disquiet. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s… I just…” He took a deep breath and spoke on a long, exhausted exhale, leaning forward to place his head in his hands. “I’m in too deep, Mills.” 

“What do ya mean?”

“I mean…” He let out a frustrated sigh. “Look I know you’re over there with your wonderful husband and your secure attachment style  and your mostly-healthy coping mechanisms, but it’s not that easy for some of us, alright?”

“Y’all been fightin’ or somethin’?” she asked, voice tinge with concern.

He brought a hand up to rub at his neck and made a frustrated noise. “No, that’s the thing. It’s been going great! We have dinner together and we’ve been building furniture and I brought him coffee in bed on Sunday, and he still gets sad about Octavia but he and Loona get along really well, and he’s been a huge help at the office, and-!”

He realized he’d slowly been growing more frenetic the more he talked. He punctuated the sheer danger of the next part by leaning into her space, attempting to convey the graveness of his current situation. “The other day we came back from a mission and he was all, ‘Welcome back, how did it go?’ and batted his fuckin’ eyelashes and I almost said somethin’ real fuckin‘ stupid in front of the whole office, Mills!” 

Unfortunately, she seemed to not take his plight seriously. “Sooo, yer freakin’ out ‘cause it’s gettin’ real?” 

“It’s too fucking real!” Why the fuck didn’t she understand the terrifying situation he was in, hadn’t she fallen in - gah, Satan FUCK - before??? “I don’t know how the fuck it got this real!”

“It’s called ‘bein’ in a relationship,’” she she said with a smirk.

“Oh yeah, sure.” He rolled his eyes. “Til he wakes up one day and realizes he hates me for ruining his life and I won’t even be able to argue with him when he leaves my sorry ass.”

Her expression was wholly unamused. “Blitz. Yer spiralin’ again. Anyone with half a fuckin’ brain can see that that man adores you. And you feel the same way, don’t ya?”

Oh Satan. Holy fuck this hurt to admit. Something deep and primal and terrified protested the very thought, but he knew it was true and he wanted to say it. He made a series of frustrated noises. “I mean… yes, but…”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that I don’t know how to love someone, okay?” he admitted, the full, honest shame of it permeating the air like the stench of death. “I’ve never felt… He deserves so- ugh. The point is, I’m fuckin’ broken.”

Millie’s expression was hard. “Ya love Loona, right?”

Blitz bristled. “That’s different.”

But Millie was not swayed. “And you love me? And Moxxie?” 

“Okay, you’re missing the fucking point-“

“And you wake up every day and you love us all on purpose.”

“Fuck, Mills, what are you, my therapist?”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you’d fuckin’ try therapy again!”

His tone turned grave. “Trust me, I’ve been thinking about it.”

“The point is: you know how to love just fine.”

There was a long pause, and Blitz listened to the breeze as he held his breath. He let it out, and something deep within him felt like it was surrendering. 

“I don’t think I’m good enough for him,” he confessed. 

“Well he does,” she replied firmly. “We all do.”

Fuck he hoped she was right. 

He let his head drop heavily onto her shoulder and she gave him a pat on the back. He expected her to make some sort of joke and was ready for the welcome reprieve of deflective humor, but instead, he felt her shoulder tense under where his head rested.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m in even worse trouble,” she said after a long moment.

He scoffed. “Yeah? Try me.”

She inhaled. “I’m…pregnant?”

Blitz froze, took a second to absorb this information, and then ripped his head from its spot on her shoulder. “Whoa. Uhhh… should you be out in the field right now?”

She let out an anxious, frustrated noise. “ Ugh. I don’t know! I don’t know if I wanna be… Me and Moxxie always said it was something we could decide on later. But also… I don’t know, what if this winds up bein’ my only chance?”

He frowned. “Mills, you’re still young.”

“I know, but people have problems with this sort of thing all the time, and what if it’s, like, a sign or somethin’?” She ran a hand anxiously through her hair as she stared out over the smoggy city skyline, the last light of sunset slowly waning. With a sigh, she hugged her knees to her chest.  “But then, even if we did want to go through with it, could we even afford it? And… I don’t know. I have no idea what to do.”

There was a long pause, and Blitz felt the overwhelming pull to ask, “Do you… want to be a mom?”

She paused for a long time, and Blitz gave her the space to grapple with the question, and finally, she spoke quietly. “I don’t know.”

Blitz took a nervous breath because, while he had a proven track record of being fucking awful at anything serious, this next part was important. “Is ‘I don’t know’ a good enough answer?”

There was another long pause, but it turned out that Millie wouldn’t get a chance to answer, because the next moment, Loona’s voice came over the walkie talkie.

“Two minutes. Get into position.” 

“Roger,” Blitz answered back, and the conversation was officially put on hold as they opened the vent that dropped down into the lab. A quick hop and a slide down later, and they were at the opening, waiting for Loona and Moxxie to enter below.

And, because he was an enterprising son of a bitch, Blitz also took out his phone, opened the email app, and sent a message to his old therapist while they were waiting.

—--------------------------------------

Often, Stolas had to babysit clients while the rest of the team was off on jobs. Usually, this time was filled with awkward silence and him playing solitaire on the office’s computer, peppered with the odd instance of a particularly strange or talkative or bitchy client here and there. 

But, particularly with Loona going out on more fieldwork these days, he was sometimes left completely alone. Just earlier, the team had left to run a special mission to the D.H.O.R.K.S. facility, and he had taken the opportunity to get into a particularly good groove with the story he’d been working on. 

“I’m so sorry I ever treated you poorly,” he said. 

“I forgive you,” the shorter man said, leaning in to take the other’s face in his hands. “I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too.”

Then they made love passionately, their bodies becoming one as they-

His creative flow was suddenly interrupted by a portal opening in the middle of the office.

He shut the journal at top speeds. “Oh, you’re back early! Everything al-?”

He was cut off by Millie approaching the other side of the portal, carrying Blitz, who was kicking and shouting, over her shoulder.

“Hey, the fuck?! I’m not going in there! Put me the fuck dow- ah!”

Millie did not let him finish before tossing him bodily through the portal and onto the office floor with an unceremonious thud. Before he could recover, she reached in, grabbed the gauntlet that contained the Asmodean crystal, and with a rough, “Gimmie that!” she yanked it off his wrist. Behind her, Stolas could see a scene of the human world, the strange facility he’d seen the inside once before back when he’d shown up to rescue I.M.P. from its clutches. The scene was one of chaos. Some sort of scientific laboratory was getting absolutely destroyed, broken beakers and various liquids covering the walls and floors, as a fight raged against the agents. Moxxie and Loona, despite being vastly outnumbered, were holding their own with relative ease. Stolas figured this likely had to do with the fact that armed rifles tended to win against katanas, but it was still very impressive.

Once Millie finished yanking the gauntlet off a protesting Blitz, her gaze snapped to Stolas, eyes anxious.

“Stolas! Blitz got hit in the face with some weird powder and now he can’t remember anythin’! We’re gonna try to find an antidote so just watch him for now, okay?” She didn’t give him any time to respond before turning to run, the portal closing behind her. 

“Hey, wait!” Blitz shouted, trying to jump back through as the portal closed, but missing it by a hair and crashing onto the office floor. “Fuckin’ ow! What the fuck!”

“Um,” Stolas said timidly. 

Blitz whipped around in response as though he were surprised to hear another voice in the room with him. The second his eyes landed on Stolas, the anger dropped off his face and was replaced by wide-eyed surprise.

“Oh,” he said, simply. Stolas watched as his eyes curiously looked him up and down before landing back on his face, staring awkwardly. 

“Uh… hello,” he said, giving a little wave.

“Are you alright?” Concern flooded his chest as Stolas got up from the desk and walked quickly over to where Blitz stood, sinking to his knees so he could be more at eye level. “What was she talking about? Were you hit in the head? Are you injured?”

Blitz looked startled, but didn’t protest as Stolas reached out to take his head in both hands, rotating it gently to examine it for injuries. Nothing that he could visibly see. 

“Uh,” Blitz replied vaguely. “No, I don’t think so?”

Stolas leaned in to check that his pupils weren’t dilated different sizes or anything of the like. Nothing out of the ordinary, but he could see that his face looked flushed, and brought a hand up to his forehead, which was clammy. 

“Do you feel ill at all? What did she mean when she said you can’t remember anything?” he asked, a pit of dread sinking in his stomach. “How much… anything don’t you remember?”

“Uhh,” he said again. Then he paused for a moment, just sort of staring at Stolas with an expression that distinctly reminded him of a spooked cat. Finally, he spoke again. “You’re, uh, really close…”

Stolas was suddenly intensely aware of he was still cradling Blitz’s face gently, leaned into his space. It was where he’d gotten used to being lately whenever the two of them were in the same room. Which, these days, was most rooms. 

He let go of Blitz’s face as though it were suddenly made of hot iron and sprang away to a more respectable distance, sinking back onto his knees and putting his hands very deliberately in his lap, lest they succumb to their natural tendency to reach out for Blitz in any given circumstance. “Sorry. What do you remember?”

His desperation grew as Blitz seemed to struggle, wracking his brain for anything useful. Suddenly, the perfect litmus test for this scenario hit Stolas like an oncoming train.

“Does the word ‘horse’ mean anything to you?” 

“Uh.” Blitz gave him a blank look. “What’s a horse?”

Well, that wasn’t good. “Do you know your name?”

“Yeah, about that.” He suddenly looked irked. “The fuck kind of name is ‘Blitz’?”

Hope swelled in his chest. “So you do know it?”

“No, that bitch with the ripped jeans kept calling me that.” He gestured in the vague direction of where Millie disappeared through the portal. “Is that actually my name?”

“The ‘o’ is silent,” Stolas recited numbly.

“What’s an ‘o’?!” he replied, clearly growing frustrated.

The pit that had started to form in his chest was now a full blown sink hole, swallowing every hope of calm Stolas had in this situation. He knew that flying off the handle was completely useless in this situation, but he was beginning to feel strangely lightheaded.

“This is not good,” he mumbled, hand coming to rub at his forehead. “This is… Mildred said there was an antidote?”

“Who’s Mildred?”

“The woman in the ripped jeans. The one who isn’t your daughter.”

“I have a daughter?!” Blitz looked absolutely horrified at this revelation. “Which one’s my fuckin’ daughter?”

“The hell hound. She’s adopted. Answer the question!” he pressed frantically. “She said they went back for an antidote?”

“Look, I know as much as you do… or… actually, I’m pretty sure I know a lot less than you do.”

And Stolas was trying to keep it together, but fuck, wouldn’t it be just like them to finally start making progress on their relationship, finally moving toward something official or at least serious, and then to have it ripped away because Blitz got hit with some fucking mortal-world bullshit and lost every memory he had of the two of them?

He couldn’t help but let out an ugggh, as he hung his head, face in his hands. 

Blitz’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “So, uh… I’m guessing we know each other. Are we… friends?”

And at that moment, something in him broke. His chest stuttered once, then twice, and soon an uncomfortable, dissociative laughter escaped from his chest in a slow-cresting wave. It racked his frame and he had the vague realization that something in his subconscious had likely chosen this reaction because it was either this or crying. Eventually, he sat down fully on the floor, pulling his knees tightly to his chest and eventually letting out a long whine because what the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Blitz seemed wildly unsure of how to deal with any of this, so he settled for asking. “Okay, so, was that a yes or a no?” 

Stolas took a long breath and tried not to cry. “It’s… a long story.”

Blitz brought a hand up to rub at his neck. “I mean, I’ve got time. Or… at least I think I do.”

Stolas looked up at him, his heart ached at the timid expression on his face, and, despite everything, he felt a small smile creep onto his face. 

—-------------------------------------------------

“Hurry it up, y’all, there might be more of ’em!” 

“ You try searching the precarious fucking shelves full of Satan-knows-what!” Loona replied, poking her head from behind one of said shelves. Only about ten of them remained standing after the earlier brawl had taken most of them out. 

Millie stood near the door, keeping a lookout for more agents. Around her, the laboratory was covered in glass, various liquids, upturned shelves and tables, and a lot of dead bodies. 

“So much for a stealth mission,” she mumbled to herself before calling out once more. “Moxxie! How’s the safe comin’?”

“Almost there!” he called back from the far corner of the room.

“Hey, is this anything?” came Loona’s voice. Millie turned to find her standing with a small envelope. Millie took it and had to squint to read the shoddy handwriting: Memory Obliterator Antidote. 

The next second, there was a low bang as the safe door fell off its hinges, and she rushed over to help Moxxie grab the demon artifacts. Looked like some spell books, a few cursed pieces of jewelry. She frowned. It would definitely make them some money but, of course, D.H.O.R.K.S. had completely overblown the ‘rarity’ of the items. Honestly, she didn’t know what she expected. 

She stifled a sigh. “Good work, y’all. Let’s-“

Just then, an alarm blared in their ears and the lights began to shut off one by one. Deciding to not stick around to see how this would end, she frantically rubbed th Asmodean crystal and shoved Moxxie and Loona through the portal before diving in herself. The three of them landed in an unceremonious heap on the office floor, and the sound of the alarm was abruptly cut off as the portal closed behind them. 

“So, wait a minute.” Blitz’s voice reached her ears. She looked up to see that, across the room, he was sitting cross-legged, leaning in with his full attention on an equally enraptured Stolas. “If we only met the one time as kids, how’d we become friends?”

“Well, ahhh,” Stolas said awkwardly, a hand coming up to rub at his neck. “That’s where the story gets somewhat more complicated…”

The two of them barely noticed as Millie marched over to Blitz purposefully.  She grabbed him by the shoulder and ignored his protests as she yanked him around, opened the envelope, and promptly threw what was hopefully the antidote to this bullshit in his face.

“ Gaah!!!” he shouted, leaning away as the powder got in his nose and eyes. One pained shout turned into several, and he crumpled to the ground, and Millie had about a second of quickly sinking panic before he shouted, “What the fuck , Mills?!”

She groaned with sheer exhaustion. “Thank fuckin’ Satan.”

Blitz continued to roll on the floor, clutching his head. “Satan’s asscrack, am I having a fuckin’ aneurysm?!”

“Nah, yer just remembering yer whole life at once.” She shrugged. “Sounds like it’d hurt like a sonofabitch.”

“I’ll fucking clock you, Millie, I fuckin’ swear. I don’t care if you’re- you know, whatever!” This threat was significantly stunted by the fact that Blitz was currently curling into a ball, shielding his eyes from the fluorescent office lights. 

“What? Pregnant? You can say it,” she replied simply.

Stolas looked at her wide-eyed.

“Ohhhhh. Wait, was that your pregnancy test in our bathroom?” Loona’s voice came from behind her. Millie glanced over to see that her expression was barely invested as she pulled out her phone. “Shit, better let Savannah off the hook in the group chat, she’s been trying to deny it for weeks and everyone’s been sending her memes of fetuses.”

“That sounds like it could get really offensive really easily,” remarked Moxxie with a raised eyebrow.

Loona didn’t look up from her phone when she replied, “Oh we passed that point last Tuesday.”

Blitz was now curled into a tight ball, one arm covering his eyes and the other groping wildly. “ Stolaaaaas ?”

Said bird leaned in to grab attentively at Blitz’s erratically waving arm, holding his hand in both of his. “I’m here, Darling. Are you alright?”

“We’re going home,” Blitz whined with the distinct air of a petulant child who got sick at a birthday party. “Carry me.”

Stolas, who didn’t look quite as relieved as Millie felt, frowned. “Is your memory fully recovered?”

Blitz just groaned in response.

“Blitz.” Now he looked irate. “We need to know that you’re alright, can you momentarily ignore your instincts to be deliberately unhelpful?”

“You’re a terrible boyfriend!” Blitz outright whined. “Aren’t you supposed to pick me up when I’m down or some shit?”

He didn’t cease his groaning as Stolas’ eyes grew as big as saucers, feathers fluffing up instantly. He froze, staring at Blitz’s rather pathetic form for a moment before glancing over to Millie. She grinned back and gave him a wink for good measure. After a few seconds, he seemed to shake himself out of his stupor, smoothing the feathers back down, face now painted in an unmistakable blush as he let out a reluctant little huff.

“Very well,” he conceded, gently hoisting Blitz into his arms. “Let’s go home.”

Blitz curled into his chest like a cat. “Looney, can you drive?”

“Going home early? Say less.”

Chapter Text

“I don’t mean to be discouraging your- uh… Stolas.” Moxxie still sounded uncomfortable saying his name. “But if you’re worried about your safety, we’ve all got you back.”

Around them, the gun range was full of what Stolas was sure was its typical weekend clientele, mostly imps who were likely in the same sort of business as I.M.P. He’d been somewhat surprised to learn what a common career choice it was, and the level of skill in the surrounding stalls only made him feel more self-conscious in regards to his utter lack of it.

Stolas tried not to sigh as he fiddled with the particularly bulky shotgun he’d been handed. “Thank you, Moxxie, but if that awful Striker comes after Blitz again, I don’t want to be completely useless.”

He let out a breath as he aimed the shotgun like Moxxie had told him to and squeezed the trigger. He’d been told to be prepared for something called ‘recoil,’ which apparently meant that the gun would fucking attack him. Rather than shoot anywhere near straight, he would up firing somewhere in the general direction of the ground as the butt of the gun slammed into his shoulder with such ferocity that it likely left an instant bruise. Stolas suppressed his yelp as he brought a hand up to rub at the area and tried not to think about how perhaps it was foolish of him to even attempt this in the first place.

Moxxie cut in, voice sympathetic. “Let’s try a different model. Maybe shotguns just aren’t your thing.”

The next gun Moxxie handed him wound up being a large, ornately decorated revolver. Stolas stared at it for a moment before realizing he’d seen it before.

Moxxie seemed to read his thoughts. “Stole it off Striker at the hotel. Fuck that guy.”

“Agreed,” replied Stolas, brow furrowing. “You mentioned you and Mildred are keeping tabs on him?”

Moxxie gave him a reassuring smile. “He broke basically all the bones on the left side of his body. He’s still in the hospital. We’ve got time.”

Stolas huffed. “Good. It seems I need it.”

The next moment, he brought the revolver up to fire off another shot, aiming at the closest target. The gun nearly hit him in the face as it recoiled, and he cringed as he realized he didn’t even see where the bullet went that time.

“Try keeping your arms completely straight,” Moxxie supplied. 

Stolas sighed and tried a few more times, seeing about as much progress as he was coming to expect from himself. His spiral of frustration was interrupted when Moxxie’s voice turned tentative.

“Hey, uh… Can I ask you something?” 

Stolas glanced over to where Moxxie was currently taking an inventory of the gun options they had, not really looking at him. He seemed suddenly nervous. 

“Of course,” Stolas replied.

“Well…” He paused to hand Stolas a smaller, less ostentatiously decorated handgun, which he immediately had an easier time with. “You know how Millie told the office the other day that she’s… pregnant?”

“Yes, I heard. Congratulations.”

“Well, that’s the thing,” he replied shakily. “She doesn’t know how to feel about it… and I don’t either if I’m being honest.”

Stolas was still missing the target, but at least this gun didn’t try to kill him. “Do the two of you want children?”

Moxxie sighed. “We always said we could figure it out later. That if we did decide to do it, it was a long way off. We’re not exactly in a kid-friendly business and money has always been kind of tight. But… now that this has happened, is it wrong to… I don’t know. Waste the opportunity?”

He held his breath and tried not to think about Via. “Yes, I can see how that would be a difficult choice.”

“Try this one, it’s got a scope.”

Stolas took the long, sleek rifle and fiddled with it, looking through the little magnifying glass on the top curiously.

“How did you know you wanted to have your daughter?” Moxxie asked.

“I didn’t,” he replied, attempting to find the best way to line up a shot with the strange gun. “She was a choice made for me when I was young. I was ‘destined’ to sire a precautionary heir to the Goetia line and Stella and I were forced together the moment we both came of age, all the misery it brought us be damned. The Goetia family made the choice for me.”

Moxxie was quiet for a moment. “I see.”

“And,” he added, pausing to look him in the eye. “I love her more than anything in my existence.”

Moxxie blinked up at him. “...I see.”

He fiddled with the gun, mostly for want of something to do with his hands. “You may rise to the occasion, even if you think you can’t… but…” his stomach twisted with a sickening, heartbreaking irony. “Then again, perhaps I shouldn’t be saying that.”

There was a pause, and for a second Stolas could see flashes of her, blinking up at him as a swaddled newborn, smiling as she told him about her first day at school, sitting across from him on the couch, playing air guitar along with the music in her headphones as he read his book, rolling her eyes, but then laughing as she said, “ Daaaaad! ”

He had almost hoped that he’d learn something profound by being without her this long, that the loss of her presence in his life would somehow achieve some life lesson. But there was no great gain, no poetry. He just fucking missed her.

Moxxie’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Stolas… I know we only really started getting to know each other recently, but… I know enough about you to know that you’re a good dad. You love Octavia.”

He sighed. “Yes, but… I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that. Is every parent that loves their children a good parent? I was acting out of love for Via when I stayed in that marriage, in that life… but all it did was make her feel like a burden and resent me when I finally couldn’t do it anymore.”

Moxxie didn’t have an answer to that. Stolas took a breath and lined up the gun again, attempting some semblance of aim. “I suppose the point I’m trying to make is: it’s an important decision. It’s good that you’re both thinking this hard about it.” 

When he squeezed the trigger, the rifle made a surprisingly quiet pew sound, and a second later, Stolas blinked in surprise. “Oh! Well there’s something, finally.”

He had hit the target farthest toward the back, the bullet landing far off-center, but having definitively connected.

“Hey, that wasn’t bad!” Moxxie remarked, sounding incredulous in a way Stolas tried not to feel offended by. “How’d you do that?”

“I have fairly good eyesight,” Stolas replied with a shrug. “And this one didn’t injure me when I fired it.”

Moxxie’s face erupted into a mischievous smile. “What do you know about snipers?”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

He was doing this on fucking purpose. 

First, there were the problems at work. Namely, that Stolas was entirely too sexy and he was making it hard to work. Because seriously, who the fuck looks that good in turtleneck shirts from the fucking secondhand store?! Not to mention the way he bit down on his pen whenever he was thinking about something, or the chipper ass smile he’d give Blitz sometimes when they returned from missions, or - fucking ugh - the fucking reading glasses that he’d managed to find for cheap that he kept at his desk to be deployed as some sort of Anti-Blitz-Doing-Work conspiracy. Or at least that’s what he’d tell Moxxie when he complained that the paperwork didn’t get done on time again this week. It was definitely not because being thirsty over Stolas had devolved into him rubbing a quick one out in his office.

Then, there were the issues at home, many of which stemmed from the fucking idiotic idea that Blitz had had to buy Stolas a new robe - which, again, was from a secondhand store so technically it was an old robe that had definitely belonged to someone’s bridesmaid at some point if the knock-off silk and baby blue color were any indication. This had seemed like an innocent enough gesture, except when he had subsequently been forced to watch Stolas wear the stupid thing every night, neckline falling over one delicate shoulder, and Blitz had to just look when he couldn’t even rip it off of him. He was repeatedly resigned to contemplate his life choices… while furiously rubbing one out in their shared bathroom.

Their romantic ass night in Lust had gotten completely fucked over, but Blitz had tasted bliss that night - literally - and was now being starved again in full view of a feast as if for some cruel overlord’s entertainment. He was typically into edging torture, but usually he was the one providing it, meanwhile Stolas was over here doing it to him while acting completely oblivious.

But when he’d come home from a series of errands to hear faint sounds of moaning coming from the master bathroom, Blitz had made a beeline for their room and locked the fucking bedroom door on the way to investigate because this fucking bird had to be doing this on purpose-

But instead of what he’d expected to find, he instead walked in to find Stolas laying submerged up to his neck the tub, water as steaming hot as he was likely able to make the building’s old pipes achieve, groaning in less of a sexy way and more of a ‘I just had a fucking day, ’ way.

“Uh,” he remarked, brain confused and dick despairing. “You okay?”

“Why did no one tell me that shooting guns would hurt?! ” he whined.

Blitz had to take a second to recalibrate. Right. He and Moxxie were doing that today. He tried to smooth his voice over and made a mental note to unlock the bedroom door before Stolas got done with his bath. He smoothed his expression and walked over, jumping to perch on the lip of the tub. “You lifted a bunch of heavy things and you’re not invulnerable anymore, you’re prone to post-workout soreness like the rest of us losers.”

“Shotguns are awful,” he remarked dramatically, expression weary. “They all attacked me when I fired them.”

Blitz chuckled. A part of him had bristled with anxiety when Stolas had mentioned asking Loona to set up shooting lessons for him - His protective instincts had been running on all cylinders lately ever since Stolas had shown up to live with them - but Stolas had been making more and more efforts to help the team lately, and that made Blitz stupidly proud.  

He smiled.  “It go alright, though?”

Stolas hummed. “Moxxie says I might make a good sniper if I practice. I’m sure he was just being polite, but it certainly seemed to be the one thing I wasn’t awful at.”

“We gotta get you a full leather cat suit,” he suggested, a devilish smile forming on his lips. “Standard issue for sexy snipers.”

And oh, but was his mind flooded with images of that. He vaguely recognized that he’d never had any sort of fetish for tactical-adjacent gear before, but he was perhaps the horniest he’d been since he was eighteen and certainly the most blue-balled he’d been since then. 

Stolas didn’t seem nearly as bothered, and he merely raised an eyebrow. “That sounds rather impractical.” 

“I said the sexy ones, not just any sniper,” Blitz replied with a shrug. “Hey, why’d you want to learn to shoot, though? Secretate-ing boring you?”

“No, it’s just- ah- it seems like a good skill to have, and I’m in the company of so many experts, it seemed a shame not to learn. I even used my new library card to check out some books on the subject.”

“Beauty and brains,” Blitz replied simply. Stolas’ face was already pink from the hot water, but he noticed it turn slightly pinker.

Ugh, he was so cute, and Satan fuck was Blitz pathetic. He tried to shake himself out of it. “Well, if you’re too sore to move, I guess that means it’s my turn to cook dinner. 

Stolas hummed and stared heavy-lidded at the surface of the water, head lolling to the side tiredly. “No need. Loona asked me to pick up Chinese so I ordered your usual.”

And really, that should have been nothing. Stolas certainly said it like it was nothing. But Blitz had neurons firing in his brain for all sorts of reasons today, so maybe that was why the fact of Stolas knowing his food order was currently causing all the organs in his torso to put on their own juggling act.

He tried desperately to be normal. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and it was their weekend deal for a free fried rice,” he added, suddenly becoming more animated as he brought a hand out of the water to wave and spray droplets everywhere as he spoke. “They tried to argue that I was under the minimum because I was one fucking dollar short , but I was well over it after tip, so I argued with them and they wound up giving me a Large, which I believe they only did to shut me up. However, as Loona would say: Worth It.”

Oh, Blitz was in too fucking deep. Logically, he knew that sobbing over a man for a month, nearly losing that man when he saved Blitz’s life, bringing him home to live with him, saving his life back, supporting him through an incredibly hard time, and building a damn home with him meant more than the normal, everyday, ‘yeah, he’s cool, we can hang,’ type feelings that had been his limit in every other relationship he’d ever had, but he… 

He cleared his throat. “Haggling over cheap food means you’ve graduated to the next level of being a plebian, congratulations.”

“Do I ever get to reach a level where it gets easy?” Stolas groaned. 

Blitz’s heart swelled, and he moved to brace an an arm on the far edge of the tub so he could lean down to plant a kiss on Stolas’ forehead. “Nah. But you’re doing great.” 

Stolas merely whined in response, and Blitz wanted to die but in the best way possible. 

“Want me to heat yours up for you?” 

“Yes, please.”

And Blitz managed to keep it together as he left Stolas to finish up his bath, but the moment he made it back out to the living room, he let out a groan as he promptly slumped over the arm of the couch, planting his face in the cushions.

“Same.”

Blitz was startled as he looked up to find Loona, who he’d somehow completely missed, sitting on the beanbag with a takeout box of low mein.

“Shitty day?” she asked. 

Blitz was starting to think containing the amount of feelings, both emotional and physical, that he was currently feeling might be bad for his health. Still, he swallowed them down and merely said, “Nope. All good,” before slinking over to the kitchen to heat up dinner.

Chapter Text

Before Blitz, he’d fantasized about intimacy. He’d pour over some romantic novel or another as he stayed up in bed at night, always something involving some dashing and handsome hero who would hold the love interest in his arms and whisper sweet nothings in their ear. He’d dream about someone dashing and handsome holding him like that, and when Stella had finally started sleeping in a separate bedroom, his long, lonely nights were at least peaceful.

It wasn’t just the intimacy of sex he’d dreamed about, but the feeling of being with someone. Being thought of and talked to and seen. He knew these things were part of it, but he’d never experienced them until recently. The reality of it, he’d found, was much simpler and more mundane, lacking any of the rosy tinting of fantasy. But it was also real. It was in the morning routine that he and Blitz had developed in the new apartment, and the casual conversations they held while driving to work or cooking dinner. 

And on this particular evening, it was the way he curled up against Blitz’s side on the couch for a movie night, wrapped in the pale blue silk robe Blitz had gotten him as a gift. Loona had declined to join, saying something about leaving for a friend’s in a little while, and Blitz had declared that it would be more popcorn for them as they started the movie without her. 

At one point, Stolas excused himself to go to the bathroom, and when he returned, he found that Blitz had laid down, head resting on the arm of the couch. Stolas wordlessly crawled onto the couch and up the length of his supine body before nuzzling his head into Blitz’s chest. Blitz accepted this without comment, and Stolas couldn’t help but smile. 

Onscreen, the heroine was executing a dramatic chase scene, shooting heavily at her attacker while her disguise fell apart in the process. 

“How’s shootin’ lessons going, by the way?” Blitz asked casually. He punctuated the question by bringing a hand up to card gently through the feathers on his head. 

Stolas gave a pleased little hoot. “Alright, I think. I’m obviously not very efficient, but Moxxie says the nice thing about long range rifles is that I can take my time. And- oh!”

He lifted his head for just a moment to look a mildly bewildered Blitz in the eye. “Why did you never tell me he had such wonderful taste in theatre? We wound up having a conversation about Moulin Rouge for nearly an hour!”

Blitz’s eyes narrowed. “Is that the one with the sad French bitches?”

“Which ones?”

“The fuck do you mean ‘which ones?’ there’s more than one musical about sad French whores?”

“There is also La Boheme, Les Miserables, Hunchback of Notre Dame, An American in Paris, ” he listed, before remembering the other part of their conversation excitedly. “ Which, by the way, is in town next month and Moxxie suggested we make it a double date.”

“Aaaaaaaand this is why I was afraid of the two of you becoming friends,” Blitz replied with a grimace. 

Stolas just giggled and laid his head back down on Blitz’s chest. “I feel badly. After getting to know everyone, now I find myself wishing I’d helped the team more when I had my powers; I would have been much more useful.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my fault you don’t have ‘em, so you can blame me.” He said it half-jokingly, but Stolas heard something underneath it that gave him pause. He hadn’t phrased it that way since the conversation they had at Sinsmas, when Stolas had, as Loona had helpfully phrased it later, ‘faced the bitch ass consequences of your actions.’

“It’s not your fault,” he tried to correct. 

After a moment of hesitation, Blitz replied, “I mean, it is though.” His voice was painted with forced nonchalance, but there was a very real sadness under the surface. Stolas shifted his head and laid his chin on Blitz’s chest so he could look at him. Blitz was staring at the ceiling. 

“I mean, I know you said I don’t need to feel guilty. But, if I hadn’t gone for your fuckin book in the first place, you’d have your powers. And your life. And your daughter. So… I didn’t do it on purpose, but it was my fault… That’s a pattern for me. Been talkin’ to my therapist again and she told me to watch for those,” he tried to joke. 

But Stolas wasn’t going to let it slide. 

“It’s true that, if you’d never shown up in my room that day, my life would have remained the same,” he answered as though he hadn’t thought about this exact thing a hundred times before. “And who would I be if you didn’t? Someone I hated…”

Blitz looked down at him with surprise, fingers still carded through the feathers on his head. He blinked at him for a moment, and then an understanding but dismayed expression crossed his face. Stolas knew how he felt to an extent. He’d hurt plenty of people without meaning to. Octavia, chiefly, but Blitz himself as well…

Before he could think better of it, Stolas blurted out, “I’ve been thinking about something you said to me once.”

Blitz chuckled and made a noise that could only be described as eeeaaaauuuuugh. “That’s probably not good.”

But Stolas pressed on, moving to sit up. Blitz looked distinctly worried as he followed suit, and Stolas took a breath and made himself speak again. “When we were… the day of Verosika’s party when we fought. You said I looked down on you.”

Blitz cringed. “Look, Stolas, I’m sorry about-“

“You were right.”

Blitz was pulled up short by that, staring dumbfounded while Stolas continued. 

“I didn’t mean to, of course,” he continued. “It was just… something I learned growing up. It was so ingrained in me that I didn’t even notice it. But that doesn’t excuse it.”

Blitz’s brow furrowed but, incredibly, he seemed to be at a rare loss for words. Stolas kept going. 

“You were always some fantasy to me, some symbol of a freedom that I never had. Yes I liked you, but I liked the parts my mind made up just as much. And there you were the whole time, assuming I only thought of you as some plaything, because that’s exactly how I treated you.”

“Stolas-“

“Please -just… let me say this.”

He quieted, and Stolas took another deep breath, guilt heavy in his chest. “Making that deal with you was wrong. I’ve known that for some time. I was so focused on living in a fairytale, getting whatever version of intimacy that I could out of you, that I never really stopped to think about how the whole thing might have affected you. Here I was, having had barely any experience with sex other than what I was obligated to do, knowing exactly how awful that was, and what do I do? Turn around and put you in the same situation.”

“Hey, hold the fuck up.”  Blitz’s voice was suddenly hard. “You never made me do anything. Anything we did was shit I wanted too. Don’t compare yourself to her.”

“It was still wrong of me,” he said simply. “All of it. And I’m sorry.“

There was a long, tense silence as Blitz looked at him, a kaleidoscope of emotions dancing across his features. He seemed to struggle to find the words. Eventually, he sighed and reached out to hold Stolas’ hands gently in his own. 

“Stolas, I-“ He cleared his throat. “ I’m sorry. For always assuming the worst about you. For being cruel to you. For using you as a means to an end. For not… seeing you. Trusting you.”

Another long pause. Then, he had to know. “Do you trust me now?”

Blitz blinked up at him for a second before a teasing smirk crept onto his face. “You kiddin’ me? Even if you hadn’t saved my ass a bunch of times, you’re one of like five people in any ring that I do trust.”

And fuck he wanted to say it so badly it made him ache. He wanted to scream to every ring of hell how much he fucking loved this man, but the words refused to form, still held back by fear. In that moment, he just couldn't. However, for the first time, somewhere in the back of his mind was the distinct feeling that the day would come when he could.

Blitz’s hands tightened around his, and the look in his eyes was suddenly intense, voice low. “Stolas, I-“ he cleared his throat again. The action turning into a coughing fit, which Stolas was just beginning to grow concerned about when Blitz spoke again. When he did, it seemed that whatever had been possessing him a second ago had now vanished, and he abruptly averted his gaze, face turning pink. “I, um… just- you’re really important to me, alright?”

“I feel the same way,” he replied, trying not to sound as incredulous as he felt because how could this be them? It was entirely too wonderful. “Now more than ever.”

And the classic humor-deflection seemed to take hold. Stolas was proud of him for making it this long. 

“See, that’s the part that I still don’t fully get,” Blitz joked. “I mean, like, I get that I’m super fuckable, but care -able? I don’t know how you do that.”

“Easily,” Stolas answered with categorical sincerity. “You’re an inspiring person. You’re driven and outspoken and fiercely loyal to the people you love. You make me want to be brave. That’s who you are… And I’m sorry that I ever treated you like anything less.” 

Blitz blinked at him for a few seconds, but recovered quickly this time. “Yeah, well, you’re forgiven for all that bullshit if you forgive me for at least some of mine.”

“Only so long as I get to keep holding that, ‘too much imp to simp,’ comment over your head,” he answered, smiling. 

Blitz grimaced in a way that Stolas couldn’t help but find adorable. “Yeah, I’ll let you have that one, I probably deserve it.”

Stolas chuckled, a warm feeling taking hold in his chest. Blitz seemed to feel it too. Because Blitz was so much shorter than him, he had to rise to his knees and lean up in order to kiss Stolas, which he did with a wonderful softness. Stolas could tell that he meant for it to be brief and relatively chaste, but that just wouldn’t do, so he chased Blitz’s lips with his own when he moved to pull away, deepening the kiss instead. 

Blitz let out a little gasp, but responded in kind. After a moment, he grabbed at Stolas’ robe and pulled them both back down until Stolas was laying on his chest again. Playing field now evened, Stolas leaned back in to recapture his lips, his tongue gently licking into his mouth. Somewhere in the background, the heroine of the film and the love interest finally revealed their feelings for one another. 

Stolas was struck again with how real it all felt. Being with Blitz had ended up being nothing like he’d imagined, but he now realized that that was likely a good thing. For so long, Blitz had felt like an enticing mystery, dashing and rugged like in the novels. The reality of him wasn’t nearly so fantastical, but it was so much more faceted, more whole. 

Something felt as though it had been laying dormant in Stolas’ chest, and now awakened to erupt spectacularly.

He abruptly broke the kiss. “Did Loona leave for her friend’s already?”

Blitz seemed to process his words for a second. “Uh. Yeah, she- oh-”

There was a long moment where they simply stared at each other, and the air in the room seemed to completely dissipate, leaving his lungs wanting and his heart racing. 

Stolas had long accepted that he was head over heels for this idiot, and yet he seemed to keep finding new ways to become endeared to him. Case in point, Blitz’s expression turned perhaps the most blatantly bashful Stolas had ever seen it.

“I mean… would you want to-?”

“Yes,” he answered with probably too much enthusiasm. 

The stare commenced once more, but this time it was broken by Blitz letting out a snort that turned into full blown laughter and Stolas almost immediately followed suit. Once their giggle fit had calmed down, he stood, took Stolas by the hand, and didn't even bother shutting off the movie as he led him to their bedroom. Blitz quickly excused himself to run into the master bath, and Stolas shut and locked their bedroom door for good measure because he would be fucking damned if someone even thought about interrupting them this time.

He moved to sit on his side of the bed - the side closer to the window which he’d claimed after they’d set up the bed and he’d seen what a prime shooting location the rooftop across the street had been - and clasped his hands together. A small eternity passed as a strange nervousness took over him. It wasn’t as if anything they could do here would be anything new, he tried to convince himself. 

And yet it was entirely new. Before, Stolas had been in love with him, and dreamed about Blitz loving him back. But now, Stolas loved him. Every part of him, even the parts that were frustrating or misguided, because they were all him. And Blitz loved him back. At least, Stolas thought he did. Lords, he hoped he did.

His thoughts were cut off as Blitz came out of the bathroom. Stolas glanced over and saw him notice his entirely-too-tense-to-be-sexy posture. He sat up as Blitz walked over and placed his hands gently on his knees, thumbs rubbing soothing little circles into Stolas’ thighs.

“You okay?” And fuck but his voice was so wonderfully soft. 

Stolas smiled as he reached to gather that wonderful face in his hands, leaning down to kiss him softly as an answer. He tried to channel every tender feeling he had into it, hoping that they would somehow reach Blitz, his mouth and hands screaming his adoration through their touch.

Blitz seemed to understand on some level, because he kissed back with slowly rising fervor. He leaned in, pushing Stolas’ knees apart to step in closer, hands moving up his thighs and hiking the blue silk robe up to his hips. Stolas just kissed him harder, unwilling to give up even an inch of space between them. But the build was slow torture. With everything that Blitz gave him, every place he touched him, Stolas only wanted more.

Blitz seemed to feel a similar way, because the next second, he broke the kiss. The expression on his face was that wonderful, open sincerity that Stolas had come to know recently, but his voice was low and rough. 

“Lie down.”

Ugh.

Holy FUCK.

Blitz busied himself with removing his clothes with expediency as Stolas moved to lie down on the bed, taking extra care to make sure that the robe fell in an alluring way over his shoulders and hips; he’d gotten the feeling lately that Blitz liked the robe a lot. 

He felt a burst of triumph and had to suppress a smirk when Blitz’s eyes widened to positively cartoonish levels as they landed on him again. He apparently did not do a good enough job of hiding it, though, because Blitz noticed his smile and his expression shifted to one that gave the distinct impression that he’d taken the whole thing as a challenge. He jumped up onto the bed and was kissing Stolas again in barely two seconds. Blitz moved to kiss the underside of his jaw, nipping his way down his neck as he drew little noises from his throat. His hands deftly parted what was left of the coverage Stolas had had from the robe, untying the tie for good measure as he kissed and bit his way down Stolas’ chest, the length of his torso, and onto his hips. He settled in between his thighs, and Stolas propped himself up on his elbows and focused on not hyperventilating as Blitz smirked and leaned in to sink his teeth into his inner thigh.

He collapsed backwards, hands immediately coming up to cover his mouth as a yelp escaped him. Blitz hummed, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise, seemingly for the fun of it, and Stolas tried to keep his voice down. Blitz eventually let go, and Stolas heard him chuckle. When he regained composure and looked down again, Blitz was smirking at him, eyebrow raised.

“Since when are you fuckin’ shy about making noise?” he teased.

“We didn’t have neighbors before,” he pointed out, trying to project some semblance of exasperation despite the quickly crumbling mess he currently was.

Blitz just smirked again as he leaned in. “Ahhhh, fuck ‘em. Sing for me, Birdie.”

And then his mouth was on him, and damn every wayward soul to ever exist but Stolas couldn’t deny him anything. He reached down to grip the sheets as Blitz’s tongue danced rough patterns that lit up his every nerve ending. Stolas tried to breath as let himself slowly sink into the feeling, mind going blessedly quiet as his whole body tingled pleasantly. Several calming breaths and a handful of embarrassing noises later-

“Shit.”

Stolas’ heart seized. “What’s wrong?”

Blitz looked up at him. “Where did we put the lube when we moved in?” 

They stared at each other for a long moment before both sprang into action simultaneously, current state of undress be damned. Blitz sprang to the far end of the bed, immediately rifling through the nightstand on his side before nearly breaking the closet door off its hinges. Meanwhile, Stolas checked the nightstand on his side, glanced around, and then next turned his attention to their chest of drawers. Blitz had seemingly given up on the closet and was now pulling storage bins from under the bed, and Stolas made a mental note to laugh about this later when the task at hand weren’t so damn important.

Then, suddenly, success. “Found it!”

Blitz’s head popped up from the other side of the bed. “Where was it?”

Stolas was already making his way back over with expediency, tossing the bottle in Blitz’s direction and practically ripping the robe off his shoulders to throw it onto the floor. “Your sock drawer.”

“The fuck?” He caught the bottle and flicked open the cap as Stolas practically flung himself back onto the bed. “What is this, a college dorm? Why the fuck was it there?”

“How am I supposed to know? You’re the one who put it there!”

By this point, Blitz was on top of him again and seemed to channel any and all chagrin into kissing Stolas fiercely for a long moment before diving back down to toy between his legs with his tongue and now significantly slicker fingers. Stolas felt his heart race, could hear it drum in his ears as he tried to avoid hyperventilating. He squirmed as Blitz worked him with little mercy. 

He was desperately trying to hold it together, but an embarrassingly short time later, he gripped onto the bed for dear life as he went rigid.

“Blitz, I-” he panted. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m going to last very lo- aahhhh! ”

Blitz had responded to his concerns by pressing his face in even further, tightening his grip on Stolas’ thigh as his fingers moved relentlessly inside him. Any warnings - or, indeed, any words at all - that Stolas might have had died on his tongue as he was reduced to a gasping, whimpering mess, his hands fisting in the sheets as his back arched. His voice grew loud for one exquisite moment, every muscle in his body spasming. But then it was over entirely too quickly. Sweet, sensual, and nowhere near enough to sate him. 

When Blitz finally relented in his ministrations, Stolas felt his whole body seemingly crumple as he collapsed, breathing heavily as every cell of him was already screaming for more. He became aware of Blitz gently crawling up the length of his body, and he waited until Stolas could kiss him passionately, wrapping his arms around him. After a few seconds, Blitz broke the kiss, eyes heavy and glassy.

“Stolas…” His whole body was shaking. “Can I-?”

“Blitz.” And Stolas grabbed his face and redirected it so they were looking eye to eye, voice firm. “I want you to [redacted] with your huge fucking [redacted] and [redacted] until I [redacted] and then [redacted] til I can’t fucking move anymore and [redacted] [redacted] [redacted].”

Blitz stared down at him, blinking in surprise. For one awful second, the thought that Stolas had turned him off with his vulgarities flashed in his mind, but just as the panic started to set in, a familiar, devilish smile crossed his love’s features. 

“Satan dammit I’ve missed you.”

He leaned down to kiss him again, fierce and biting, and Stolas let out a groan. He let himself be held down for a long moment, the weight Blitz’s body grounding and familiar. But after a moment, an idea sparked in his mind. It was something that Blitz had only let him do maybe once before. Their full moon nights (and any nights in between those) usually consisted of Stolas being tied up in some form or another, so he hardly ever had the opportunity. 

He threw caution to the wind. Fuck it, right?

Wordlessly, he shoved at Blitz’s chest and rolled them over. Disarmed, Blitz looked up at him with wide-eyed surprise as Stolas moved to straddle his hips. He didn’t say anything, but merely moved his hands to grab onto Stolas’ hips, thumbs massaging little circles on his inner thighs as Stolas grabbed the lube, applied it, and tossed the bottle to the side. Blitz was normally much more talkative when they were in bed, but now he stared intently, eyes smoldering, and clutched at Stolas’ hips. Stolas made sure to stare back intently, not breaking eye contact as he took him in, sinking down until their hips met. Stolas let his head roll back for a moment, eyes closing as he let out a little huff of air. He had to pause and allow himself a moment to adjust, the sensation sending radiating waves through his entire body. His nails dug in where they were planted on Blitz’s chest and Stolas heard him gasp in response, his own nails digging into slender, feathery hips. 

Stolas was utterly punch drunk and they’d barely even started. He took a deep breath and recentered, all previous nervousness now replaced by a single-minded goal: to ride Blitz into utter oblivion. Finding his resolve, he took a breath and began to move. 

He had to shift experimentally a few times to find the right angle and pace, settling into a slow rhythm as he felt every inch of him. Something deep within his being was sated, as if some feral, primal urge had finally been fed. 

When he next looked down at Blitz through heavy-lidded eyes, Stolas found him still staring back with unwavering intensity, watching him with utterly rapt attention. Blitz kept one hand on his hip, but the other he brought to rest over where Stolas’ hand was anchored on his chest. 

A wretched, pining greed took over him, and the next moment he lifted their hands to press their palms together, interlacing their fingers. He held tightly and let the feeling anchor him as he moved. To his utter delight, Blitz gripped right back, thumb stroking where it rested on the back of Stolas’ hand, a wonderful flush painting the intense expression on his face. 

His mind went quiet again, and for a time there was nothing in the universe but Blitz under him, in him, with him. His voice began acting of its own accord, singing wordless praises as he moved his hips more and more frantically. 

Out of nowhere, Blitz moved to sit up, eyes full of fire, and Stolas could barely contain a surprised squawk as he was flipped onto his back. Blitz grabbed hold of his thighs and shoved them apart as he thrust roughly back in. Stolas let out a series of sounds that would leave absolutely nothing up to interpretation should anyone overhear them, his every nerve ending singing a chorus as just a tiny bit of their signature, utterly thrilling dynamic was injected into this newfound, equally wonderful sensuality. 

When he looked again, Blitz’s was breathing heavily, eyes closed and brow furrowed, and Stolas couldn’t help but reach out to place a hand on that beautiful face, thumb stroking at his jaw. To his surprise and utter delight, Blitz, who would have grabbed that hand and pinned it down by the wrist in a previous life, grabbed it instead to press kisses into Stolas’ palm. 

Somewhere in the fringes of his consciousness, he realized that this was likely the most vanilla sex they’d ever had, and yet here he was, completely strung out for it, keening and whining like Blitz had tied him up and edged him for hours on end. They’d been here many times before, and yet it felt like all the times they’d fucked in the past had somehow been a precursor for this moment. Because they weren’t just fucking, he realized. They were making love. 

Stolas let his head fall back and let out a little laugh at his own sense of drama, thinking about how Blitz would cringe if he heard that particularly sappy inner thought. And yet, he found he couldn’t quite brush it off. 

His head was heavy as he lifted it to look down at Blitz once more, only to find that Blitz was watching him again. He couldn’t help but smile. Something in him thrilled at the idea that he held Blitz’s attention this way, exhilarating and comforting all at once. To his delight, Blitz smiled back.

“Pretty bird,” he murmured, leaning down to plant biting kisses on Stolas’ torso. Slowly his  hips began to pick up speed. “So fuckin’ pretty…”

And perhaps it was foolish of him to be so struck with emotion by the simple sentiment, and he tried again to brush the feeling aside, tried not to think about how Blitz was the only person in his life who’d ever made him feel beautiful, and how there was a time when Stolas thought he’d never hear that praise from him again, and how grateful he was that they’d made it this far. But the more he tried not to think about it, the more the feeling twisted and rooted in his chest. 

He was plenty used to Blitz being rough with him physically, but this was the first time his emotions had taken this much of a pummeling during sex. The thought triggered another laugh, which then he had to prevent from turning into a sob with little success. To his horror, he felt tears well behind his eyes. His entire being was sensitive and overwhelmed and so in love that it hurt. He threw an arm over his eyes and tried to reel his emotions back in, because oh my Lucifer, Do Not Cry during sex, but Blitz wasn’t making it easy. 

He could feel himself start to lose control, the divine fog of utter pleasure settling over him like a blanket, and he felt his body tighten. Blitz felt it too, and he shoved Stolas’ thighs further apart as the movement of his hips grew relentless. Stolas gasped at the manhandling, but absolutely refused to complain because he very much wanted Blitz to keep doing exactly what he was doing.

“Shit, you feel so good ,” he heard Blitz gasp out. He let his head drop onto Stolas’ chest, buried his face in the feathers there, and let out a moan; an honest, overwhelmed sound. “Fuck, Stols .”

Stolas let out a sob, laden with rapture and ardor in equal measure, and kept the arm over his eyes as the tears threatened to spill. He could feel that telltale, radiating pleasure start swirling deep within him where Blitz was connected to him, threatening to overtake him all at once.

“Blitz,” he pleaded, using the last of whatever sobriety he had to try to keep his voice even. “I’m -“

“Me too,” he replied, voice hoarse as he seemed to find his last reserves. “ Do it. Come for me. ”

And, hmm, no, Stolas still couldn’t deny him anything. 

Slow cresting waves of sensation crashed over him one by one as time seemed to slow. His body moved without his input, writhing and arching and clutching on for dear life as his orgasm pulsed through him. He lingered in the feeling for a small eternity, the feeling radiating out from the core of him in bursts like the death of a star. The tears in his eyes finally flowed down the sides of his face as he let out a litany of sobs and praises and adulations of Blitz’s name. Blitz reaching his own orgasm caused a shockwave through Stolas’ body, stringing him out until they both collapsed, panting and boneless, into a heap. 

Stolas reached up to wipe at his eyes, the beautiful rush of afterglow replacing the swirling torrent of emotions he had been a few seconds ago. Still, he felt raw as he lay there, laid bare in more ways than one. 

Blitz’s limbs shook slightly as he rolled off Stolas’ chest, and Stolas responded immediately by rolling onto his side to gather him in his arms, curling around his smaller frame. Blitz responded in kind, wrapping an arm around his waist and nuzzling into the feathers on his chest.

“Hey,” Blitz mumbled, lips brushing against him, “You alright? I didn’t do too much, did I?”

“No. Not at all. I just…” Stolas took a breath and prayed to every demon lord in every ring for his voice to remain even. “You make me very happy.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t supposed to have been this complicated. 

Famous last words, he supposed. 

He’d lost count of the number of times he’d snuck into Stolas’ palace at this point. He had a lot of reasons to go there and just as many reasons not to use the front door. 

However, the whole place hadn’t been covered in fuckin’ ice before, so that was one problem. 

Another problem was the fact that Blitz’s preferred point of entry had always been Stolas’ room, and the balcony was not very easy to climb to due to the aforementioned being covered in ice. Luckily, he planned for this, donning his winter jacket and boots (because fuck the cold) and carrying a backpack, a pair of ice axes, and some rope as he snuck over the garden wall, the light of the moon barely illuminating the courtyard. Up above was Stolas’ balcony, and Blitz could see that the door was slightly ajar.

He smirked, twirling the ice axe for absolutely no one except his own sense of drama, and scaled one of the ice spikes up to the balcony with ease-

And this was where he was met with the third problem of the evening. Because the room wasn’t empty. No, sitting up in the grand, four poster bed, scrolling on his phone in the lamplight, was fucking Andrealphus.

Blitz ducked back behind the banister the second he saw him, panic seizing in his chest. He froze for a long moment, but luckily Ice Princess didn’t seem to notice him. When Blitz peeked out over the top of the balcony railing again, he saw Andrealphus stare deadpan at the phone screen, laugh briefly at whatever video he was watching, and then go right back to staring and scrolling.

Blitz ducked back down. Well, fuck. This was the only reliable point of entry he had and now that fuckin’ guy had moved in? It made a certain amount of sense; it was the master bedroom. But also, didn’t he know how much fucking sex they’d had on that bed? A lot. Copious amounts. There was definitely at least one stain on the mattress. A big one. Don’t ask.

Okay, so, plan B. How the fuck was he going to get into this place? He slid back down to the courtyard as quietly as possible, and moved in the shadows as he walked the perimeter of the building, trying to find some other way in. 

He didn’t have to look for very long, because behind another wall of ice was a large construction made of glass, jutting out from the main house. The greenhouse. Or… conservatory? Stolas had explained the difference to him but he didn’t fucking remember. But it didn’t matter because at the top was an open ventilation window.

He checked his surroundings before scaling the ice wall and climbing onto the conservatory roof, tiptoeing over the glass until he reached the window. He secured the rope and tossed it in, grabbing hold and sliding down to find-

Oh, come on. This was just fucking mean.

The inside of the conservatory was covered in snow, all the various freaky ass exotic plants withered and dead. Blitz suppressed a groan and cringed as he walked over dead, crunching vines, and resolved to buy a succulent or something for their apartment balcony. (He nearly chuckled at the fact that Stolas had managed to teach him what a succulent was, but The ‘Stolas and Plants’ of it all only made him feel worse.)

The main hallway was quiet, but he kept a lookout for any guards or servants as he ventured inward. He knew his target was on the top floor, and he made his way up carefully, darting from shadow to shadow as he went. He didn’t encounter anyone else until he made it to the top landing, where a young-looking imp butler was walking in Blitz’s direction. He quickly jumped behind a large pot, which held another large, dead plant, and waited. 

Once the butler was gone, Blitz walked out into the hallway. He figured there couldn’t be- 

How the fuck were there like six rooms up here? 

He didn’t have time to linger up here. Panicking, he started trying doors. Ballroom, dining room, some sort of fancy ass lounge…

At the center of the floor, he came across a pair of ornately decorated doors. 

“Jackpot,” he murmured, turning the handle. 

The library was completely dark, save for the moonlight streaming through the windows.

And holy fuck, this bird had a lot of books. Stolas had once told him that he’d read every book in his library at least one, but this was ridiculous. Blitz could barely read and here Stolas was reading so many books that Blitz didn’t know if he’d be even be able to count high enough to count them all. 

To his relief, a cursory look around revealed that the books, and in fact the entire library, was covered in dust, which meant that no one came up here. 

He almost wanted to don a nightgown and hold a candle like a sickly Victorian child, but he settled for using the flashlight on his phone as he took off the backpack, retrieved the oversized burlap sack inside, unfolded it, and got to work. 

A shit ton of the books were histories, covering everything from wars in the mortal world to ‘A Micro-history of the Humble Gardening Spade.’ They took up pretty much all the shelves on the left side of the room. Blitz wracked his brain for any subjects that Stolas had talked excitedly about in the past, and tried to focus on grabbing those as he searched. 

He maybe had a little too much fun gliding back and forth on the rolling ladder as he ascended the shelves and made increasingly impressive throws as he tossed the books back down to where the bag rested on the marble floor, cheering silently each time one went in. He was happy that his knife-throwing aim seemed to translate to books (ignore the one or two or five that ended up strewn across the marble floor, those didn’t count). When he finished with one wall, he moved to another full of novels, astrology tomes, and gardening manuals. He cringed again slightly as he grabbed just one of those.

He didn’t know how long he spent in the library, combing through the stacks, trying to build something like a collection. Back at home, there sat a newly-assembled bookshelf in the living room, and Blitz was determined to fill it. He was just starting to think about wrapping up when the sound of the doors opening echoed through the library. 

In hindsight, maybe throwing books around loudly in what was supposed to be an abandoned library for the better part of an hour wasn’t one of his better ideas.

He spun around, gripping the ladder, and down on the ground was the young butler from earlier, his eyes wide. He looked at Blitz, then at the bag, then back up at Blitz, who was holding a copy of Pride & Prejudice, and had been trying to figure out if that was the one with the hot nerd that Stolas had talked about.

“ Uhhhhh… ” He stared at the butler, who didn’t say anything. His classic turn-on-the-charm instincts kicked in. “ Listeeennn , this isn’t nearly as bad as it looks.”

Giving the butler his best suave smile, he reached into his jacket and pulled out his emergency wad of fake cash, waving it tantalizingly in the butlers direction. “Why don’t we talk about-”

“ Guards! Guards! Help!!!”  the young man screamed in terror as he bolted out the door. 

Only then did Blitz see what was in his hand and, ah. Nope. No fake cash. He’d pulled out his gun.

“Dammit!” 

He slid down the ladder and tossed the novel into the bag before yanking the strings tight. The good news was that he’d managed to get it mostly full. The bad news was that now it was mostly full and heavy as fuck. A litany of ‘ Shit fuck Satan dammit fuck fuck fuck, ’ underscored his attempts to hoist the bag onto his back and run toward the nearest exit, which happened to be an open window that let out to the roof. He had jumped through, braced his legs against the windowsill, and had begun to yank the bag up and out the window when the doors to the library opened again, and a group of armed guards in ornate armor rushed in, all of whom definitely saw him immediately.

“Shit!” he exclaimed before swinging the bag onto his back again and taking off as fast as he could. Unfortunately, the extra weight meant he was not nearly fast enough, because he’d made it maybe halfway across the roof when he looked behind him and saw the guards poke their heads out of the window, pointing and shouting at him as they climbed out to give chase.

“ Fuuuuuuuck. ”

What was his plan here? Come on, think-

But the roof tiles seemed to decide for him, because on his next step, one of them came loose, and Blitz was instantly thrown sideways, landing hard and sliding down the side of the roof and off the edge. He yelled and clung onto the bag as he fell a short way and landed with a thud on a balcony for one of the middle floors.

“Where’d he go?! ” he heard from above. “ Figure out where he landed, now! ”

The sound of footsteps on the roof drew nearer, and Blitz rolled himself and the bag across the balcony, through the door, and back into the palace and out of their line of sight. He figured he could at least throw them off before figuring out some other route of escape. Once inside, he came to a stop, face down, and heaved a sigh of relief.

“ Ooowwwww, ” he told no one.

But someone answered.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

Blitz scrambled up at the sound of the voice and saw that the room he’d chosen to roll into was none other than Octavia’s who was currently sitting on her bed, clad in pajamas and holding her guitar.

Shit.

“Uhhhh,” Yeah that was about all he had.

From out in the hall, he heard someone shout, “Secure the princess! ”

Octavia did a double take and locked eyes with him. He tried to think of something anything to say, but a split second later, she spoke. “Hide. Now.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. Blitz grabbed the bag and swung it towards the bed, several books spilling out of it and onto the floor in the process. It didn’t fit under the bed, but it was now at least obscured from the door, which was about all he had time for, because no sooner had he slid under the bed himself when the door burst open.

“Princess Octavia,” one of the guards said. “There is an intruder in the palace. We’re attempting to apprehend him.”

“Well what the fuck are you doing here then?” Octavia responded bitingly. “Go get him.”

“We- uh,” the guard answered, clearly disarmed. “We came to protect you.”

“Does it look like I need protecting?” And Blitz knew he had no right to be, but he was oddly proud of her quick thinking, not to mention her supreme levels of sass, game recognize game. “Just go fucking get him, get out of my room!”

She seemed to punctuate her demands by throwing a pillow at them. Blitz didn’t see it hit them in the face, but saw it fall to the floor at their feet. 

“Of course,” the guard sputtered. “Our apologies, Princess.”

A moment later, the door closed, and once Blitz had heard the group’s footsteps fade, he sighed, crawling out from under the bed. Octavia’s ire, it seemed, had not been completely for show, because now she was aiming it at him.

“Now, what the fuck are you doing here?” she spat.

Blitz pulled himself off the floor with a groan. “Stealing some of your dad’s books back. Not like your ice-queen-bitch of an uncle was using ‘em.”

“You’re not after the grimoire again, are you?” she said, crossing her arms. 

“Steal the thing that nearly got me killed and turned your dad from prince to pauper?” he replied. “I’m an idiot, but I’m not that stupid. It’s just some stuff from his library.”

“So you’re still with him, then,” she grumbled. 

“We moved into a new apartment,” he explained, gathering the books that had spilled and tossing them back in the bag. “He doesn’t have any of his stuff. Figured the least I could do was give him a bookshelf.” 

“Yeah well, hope he enjoys his fucking bookshelf in your brand new fucking apartment. Now get out.” She punctuated the sentence by turning her back on him. 

Blitz paused for a moment. One glance at the window, a glance back at Octavia. He took a breath. “Look, Octavia, I know you’re mad, but would you just think about talking to your dad?”

“Do you want me to call the fucking guards back?”

“He didn’t mean for any of this to happen!” Blitz pressed. “All of this is my fault, alright? I started… I started all of this.”

He nearly choked as the truth of the words weighed down on him like a boulder, and he had to take another breath before continuing. “Don’t blame your dad, blame me.”

“Oh I do, believe me.” Her voice was full of venom. 

“He misses you,” he pleaded with her. “It’s been eating away at him, and he acts like he’s okay, but he’s not.” 

She rounded on him now, eyes seething. “Oh, so what? Now he’s just an annoyance to you because he’s not your…” she trailed off for a second, expression turning to outright disgust. “Whatever that fuck disgusting shit you two were doing?!”

Blitz cringed, a knot forming in the pit of his chest. “That’s not-”

“Do you even love him?” She looked like she was halfway to tears in that irrational-and-yet-somehow-completely-understandable way that teens got sometimes. Blitz had seen his fair share of it on Loona. She continued “He chose you over me. You took him from me, you ruined my fucking life, do you even fucking love him?”

“Fucking yes , alright?! A lot! Probably too much, I just…” 

He almost had an out of body experience as the words left his mouth, as if they’d come from somewhere deep in his squishy, pathetic inner psyche and had somehow bypassed all his old coping mechanisms that were screaming at him about what an awful fucking idea it was to love anyone at all, let alone love someone in the desperate, instinctual way he loved Stolas. The whole thing was too terrifying to face and too essential at this point to live without. 

He rubbed a hand across his face, took a breath, and tried again. “Look, I care about your dad a lot, alright? And I don’t know if he can ever be really happy without you in his life.”

Octavia’s glare didn’t waver. “Or maybe you just don’t make him as happy as he thought you would.”

Okay, ow!?

He wasn’t entirely sure how she’d just said his deepest fear like that, one that he hadn’t even fully put into words until she had phrased it so succinctly and now- ow. OW. What the fuck OW.

Well, she was Stella’s daughter. The ability to be mean must come from that side of the family. Lucifer knows it didn’t come from Stolas’ side.

The words sunk into him like metal barbs. Of course he wanted to make Stolas happy. He wanted that more than pretty much any other effort in his life right now. But then again, maybe his motives were actually selfish. Maybe he just wanted to prove he could make someone’s life better for once. 

He resolved to have this existential crisis somewhere that wasn’t in front of his ex-magical-sugar-daddy-turned-boyfriend-except-boyfriend-was-a-stupid-word-and-didn’t-capture-the-way-Blitz-felt’s daughter, and he let out a sigh, turning away from her to tie the bag off once more and hoist it onto his shoulder. “Look, if you change your mind, you have my number.”

And he was determined to make a dramatic exit, but her voice stopped him after a few steps. “Wait.”

When Blitz looked back, a frown worried at her face. She seemed to contemplate something for a moment before dashing over to her closet. There was a moment where Blitz glanced around, confused, but she came back a few moments later, holding something.

“I borrowed this from him,” she said, handing Blitz a small, yellow book, likely a novel. “He probably wants it back.”

Blitz tossed in into the bag with the rest of them. “Thanks, Via.”

“You don’t get to call me that,” she glowered.

“If you say so.” He shrugged, deflecting. “By the way, your dad says happy birthday.” 

Octavia’s eyes went wide at that for a second before she seemed to intentionally glower once more. She didn’t say anything else as dropped the novel into the bag, dragged it out to the balcony, and hopped over the banister and out of sight.

Chapter Text

He woke up on the wrong side of the bed for multiple reasons that morning. 

On the one hand, he had gotten home late the previous night, back already aching from having lugged the oversized sack full of heavy ass books back from the Goetia palace after having performed an escape that involved nearly getting caught twice and falling off a roof once. His ultimate plan to surprise Stolas by stocking the new shelf in their living room with the books was put on hold due to the fact that it was fucking late, his body fucking hurt, and he was emotionally fucking Done. So instead he trudged in, jammed the sack into the coat closet, which was barely big enough to hold the thing, and eventually crawled into bed, brushing off Stolas’ half-asleep questions about where he’d been and whether he was alright before conking the fuck out. 

On the other hand, he was on the literal wrong side of the bed, having rolled over to Stolas’ side searching for said bird in his sleep only to find that he had woken up before Blitz, for once, and was nowhere to be found.

And to top it all off, his phone was blaring loudly. That was perhaps the worst, or at least the most immediately terrible, part of it all. 

He groaned, rolling back over to his side of the bed and groping for his phone, vaguely registering Millie’s name on the screen as he answered. “H’lo?”

“ You sound like shit, ” she replied with a chuckle from the other end of the line. “ You hungover or somethin’? ”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” he groaned. “You good?’

“Yeah, I just… I know ya gave us all off work today, but it turns out I’m gonna need some time off next week too.”

Blitz rubbed a hand across his face. “What, you plannin’ on being sick?”

“ Sort of… I’m gettin’ an abortion. ”

Well that woke him up. He sat up in bed. “Yeah?”

“ Yeah ,” she replied. “ We talked about it. A lot. And… it just ain’t the right time. You were right. Not bein’ sure if we wanna be parents probably means we shouldn’t be parents right now. ”

“You’re sure?” he urged. “You know I’m behind you no matter what. Looney and Stols too.”

“ Thanks, Blitz. ” He tried to listen for any trace of uncertainty in her voice, anything that might suggest that she was doing this for anything other than the two of them. “ But yeah, we’re sure. ” 

“Alright,” he replied, taking a breath. “Well, let me know how much time you need off. Take as much as you need.”

She scoffed. “ Psh! I’ll be fine . Recovery is supposed to be like two days! ”

“Mills…” He frowned at her chipper tone. “You’re allowed to feel sad.”

“ I… ” She trailed off. Blitz held still for a long moment, listening to the static on the other end. Finally, she spoke again, quieter. “ I’m… not. Well, maybe a little bit, but… mostly I’m just relieved… Does that make me an awful person? ”

“No,” he answered immediately. “Never.” 

“ Okay, ” she replied, and Blitz could hear the palpable relief in her voice. “ Thanks. ”

“How’s Mox?”

“ Well, ” Her tone perked up again slightly. “ Right now he’s in the kitchen makin’ pancakes and singin’ show tunes, and he keeps tellin’ me about some big double date we’re all goin’ on next month? ”

Blitz groaned. “Yeah, I’m gonna need your backup on that one. You and me gotta be a united front in the face of whatever the fuck An American in Paris is.” 

She groaned, but she didn’t sound upset at all, the sound ending on a chuckle. “ Why did we let them become friends? ” 

“That’s what I said!” 

She laughed again, full out this time. “ Well, that’s our boys for ya. ” 

“Yeah…” He smiled. “Hey. I love you.”

“ I love you too. ” Blitz could hear the smile on her face. 

“Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

“ I will, ” she said. “ Oh, and I thought I should let ya know. Striker’s outta the hospital.”

Blitz groaned and rolled his eyes. “Any idea where he’s hiding out?”

“ We’re pretty sure he’s back in Wrath for now, but we all know how slippery that fucker is. ” Blitz could hear the promise of another set of broken bones in her voice. “ We don’t know if he abandoned his contract with Stolas’ ex-wife, but the point is we’re gonna need to keep on our toes. ”

“Keep tabs on him as much as you can.” If he was being honest, he didn’t care all that much about Striker showing up and trying to kill him again. That was old hat at this point. But poor Stolas had been in a knot about it, even if he kept acting like he wasn’t.

“We will, we- ah shit! I gotta go.”

And somehow, he just knew. “Did Moxxie try a fancy pancake flip?”

“ He tried a fancy pancake flip,” she deadpanned. “ I’ll see ya tomorrow. ”

He smiled. “Sounds good. Bye Mills.”

“ Bye. ”

He hung up and took a breath, letting out a long exhale. Alright, one emotional issue addressed and it wasn’t even noon yet. He hopped out of bed and checked the master bath as he walked out of the room. No Stolas. 

No one out in the living room either. The coat closet door had remained closed, which was good. Maybe if Stolas wasn’t home, he’d have time to put all the books on-

Blitz froze as he turned toward where the bookshelf stood. It had been empty for the last few days, waiting for him to execute his master plan.

Except, now, the shelves were populated by the majority of Blitz’s horse collection. Beanies and figurines and even the tiny ceramic ones he’d found at various secondhand shops over the years. He managed to unstick himself from his spot to walk over and inspect more closely, and his heart seized when he noticed how carefully they were all arranged, sitting in neat rows that displayed them proudly. 

He was about halfway between tears and yet another existential crisis when he heard Loona’s door open behind him. “Mornin’.” 

He whipped around to find her texting on her phone as she walked through the living room, dressed for the day with her backpack slung over her shoulder. 

“Looney.” He did a double take between her and the shelves. “What- I mean- is this-?”

“Look, I tried to help him,” she replied, barely looking up from her phone. “But I can’t keep track of all your fuckin’ horse OC’s so if he accidentally put Princess Butternut Sparkle next to Mr. Stapler or whatever the hell, don’t get mad at him.”

“Okay, first of all, it’s Dr. Stapler, alright? Put some respect on his name, he went to medical school.”

“Okay,” she replied with not nearly as much patronization as she could have. “I’m going out. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Alright, be safe. Hey, do you know where Stolas went?”

She merely pointed in response, and Blitz followed the line of her finger to the window, where, out on the balcony, he saw just the top of a feathery head. 

“Thanks,” he murmured, giving her a wave as she walked out the door.

Outside, Stolas’ back was to him as he sat, his long legs dangling off the edge between the banisters, his blue robe draped over his slouching shoulders. If he heard Blitz’s approach, he didn’t indicate it at all, sitting perfectly still. Blitz’s gut twisted as he noticed that next to him was an empty tumbler, containing a few now mostly-melted ice cubes. He took a breath and walked over to stand next to him, taking in the dour expression on his face, dark circles under his eyes.

“The bookshelf looks great,” he tried.

Stolas perked up slightly, glancing in his direction, but Blitz could tell his heart wasn’t in it.  

“Oh. Good, I’m glad you like it,” he said before going right back to staring forward.

Blitz glanced down at the empty tumbler again, and tried to sound casual when he asked, “We partyin’?” 

Stolas didn’t look at him, not lifting his head from where it rested on the railing. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve only had one,” he grumbled. 

That would have been reassuring if it weren’t 10:00AM.

There was a moment of silence and then Stolas let out a long sigh. “Sorry… It’s Via’s birthday.”

Blitz took a breath. “Yeah, I know.” 

Finally, some movement as Stolas turned to look at him, surprised. “You do?”

“Yeah, remember how I gave everyone the day off today because I said I had to ‘run some errands?’ Well, I don’t,” he admitted. 

Stolas merely blinked at him for a long moment before letting out an frustrated groan and returning his forehead to its previous resting place on the bannister with a too-loud-to-be-comfortable thud.  

Blitz cringed, slightly, but then Stolas was talking. “And now you’re missing out on a day of business because I’m acting like a fucking basket case again .”

“Okay, I think we’ve determined that we’re both basket cases.”

“It’s not fair to you,” he insisted. 

But Blitz wasn’t swayed. “It’s a hard day. We all have them. I just wanted to make it easier on you.”

“I hate it. I hate being so fragile. ”

“You’re allowed to be fragile!”

Stolas didn’t look convinced, now staring down at the street with a combination of ire and despair. 

“I always give myself my birthday off work,” Blitz told him, chest growing tight.

“Well, that’s because it’s your birthday,” Stolas snipped.

“No, it’s ‘cause of Barb.”

Stolas whipped around and stared at him for a moment. Then he sighed. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

“...It’s alright.”

And Blitz figured he was pretty useless here, so he opted to take a seat next to Stolas, dangling his legs off the edge and not saying anything. They sat in companionable silence for a long while, the cacophony of mid-morning weekday traffic echoing up from the streets below. Eventually, Stolas spoke again.

“Often, lately, I find myself feeling guilty any time I feel… alright,” he said slowly, struggling to find the words. “It feels wrong. Like it’s not what I’m supposed to be feeling.”

“Yeah, I get that.” He thought about Barb, and all the times he’d snuck into her rehab center, and when he’d found her at that camp, and then again beneath some underpass… “It feels like that for a while. You feel guilty for feeling happy.”

Stolas glanced over at him. “And then what?”

He took a large breath and held it. “You still feel guilty, but you just… feel happy anyway.” 

Stolas didn’t respond to that, so Blitz decided to try a different tactic. “Do you wanna be sad or would you maybe want, like, a project? To distract you.”

Stolas managed a scoff, although there wasn’t very much feeling behind it. “Like what?”

A minute later, they were both standing in front of the large, now overturned sack of books, Stolas staring with confusion.

“What…?” Blitz watched realization dawn on his face as he looked more closely at the pile, his eyes growing wide. “Are these-?”

“I got some of them back for you,” he replied with a shrug.

Stolas did a comical number of double takes, glancing between Blitz and the books like his mind couldn’t piece together what had happened. “How… how did you-?”

“What? Break into your castle?” He gave his best devilish smile. “Come on, we both know I’m a fuckin’ pro at that!”

“This is why you bought the bookshelf.” Stolas looked at him with wide eyes, and Blitz felt suddenly see-though.

He brought a hand to rub at his neck.  “Uh. Yeah.”

“Oh, but,” He did yet another double take. “I couldn’t ask you to take these down, your collection was sitting in boxes, and I know how much you love them. They should be on display.”

“Well, actually, I think we can fit everything on there.” He’d bought a large bookshelf on purpose, maybe having lofty goals about how many books he’d be able to grab… or carry. “I mean, I don’t want to ruin all the work you did, but… maybe we could do it together.”

Stolas smiled at him, weary and pained, but a genuine smile nevertheless.

The shelf wound up not being quite big enough, which meant both books and horses spilled over onto the windowsill, which wound up looking rather cute. What was also cute was the way Stolas got into organizing the shelves, sorting books by category and asking for input on how the horse figures should be displayed, and even getting passionate enough to haughtily snap at Blitz about how no, A History of Gastronomy, should not go with the books on constellations, what on earth did he think gastronomy meant? 

“Come on, you know I don’t fuckin’ read. ” He spat the word out. “I may have the street smarts but you’re the intellectual in this house.”

“Actually,” Blitz turned to find a book suddenly in front of his face. “I think you’d like this one.”

He took it tentatively. It was thick enough that it instantly made Blitz nervous. The cover had a dramatized font that looked like drips of blood that spelled out, The Shining. 

“Uhhh.”

“It’s a murder mystery,” Stolas explained.

Blitz stared at the cover for another second. “I do like murder.”

“I know.” 

An hour or two later, the bookshelf was completely filled, crowded but organized, with all of the horse plushies piled on top in a cozy, if slightly precarious heap. Blitz stood back, admiring their handiwork, the corner of the living room now feeling much more lived in, and smiled, satisfied. Behind him, he heard Stolas sigh and sit down on the couch and went to join him. Once he was seated, Stolas immediately flopped over sideways, resting his head in Blitz’s lap. 

“Didn’t you come over to my place on your birthday last year?”

Blitz was caught off guard by the question, and his chest tightened with irrational fear.  “Oh… uh, yeah.”

Stolas looked up at him with sad eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was a difficult day for you.”

“Listen, you provided some much-needed distraction. Consider the favor returned.”

He wrapped his arms around Blitz’s waist, nuzzling into his stomach and humming. “You are entirely too good to me.”

“I’m not having this argument with you again,” Blitz teased. Stolas chuckled. 

“Thank you for this.” He still sounded so inexplicably sad, the reprieve that the bookshelf had provided him wearing off. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

Blitz swept the feathers gently out of his face and leaned down to press a kiss to that adorable head. “Don’t mention it.”

They stayed like that for a while, Blitz resigning to the fact that he couldn’t save him from the pain of the day entirely and trying to accept that that was okay. Stolas had told him not to fight his battles for him and he wanted to respect that, even if it meant only being able to provide him a tiny modicum of relief for things like this.  

When Blitz looked down again, Stolas’ eyes were closed. Despite the circumstances, there was something wonderful about having a lazy afternoon on the couch with his favorite bird. Stolas had always been a pretty heavy sleeper, and so he barely stirred as Blitz shifted them around until Stolas’ head rested on his chest.

He laid there for a while, listening to Stolas breathe. He thought about Octavia, and about everything that had happened over the past few months. He wondered how she’d been doing all this time. He knew what it was like to be young and impetuous and headstrong and incredibly lonely. He hoped she’d be okay. 

But regardless of it all, he felt an overwhelming and perhaps selfish sense of gratitude over the fact that Stolas was here with him. All those full moon nights of staring at his sleeping face, refusing to admit how adorable he found it, and now he got to do it every morning. 

Just like they’d talked about earlier, a part of him felt guilty for being this happy. But he chose joy anyway. 

He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he next opened his eyes, the sun now lower in the mid-afternoon sky, Stolas still breathing deeply on his chest. He glanced around and saw Loona’s backpack and shoes tossed haphazardly near her bedroom door. 

Not wanting to disturb Stolas’ nap, he laid there for a while, pausing at one point to fish out his phone. He opened Sinstagram and, as per usual, clicked on Loona’s story first. 

The picture she’d posted made his heart skip a beat. It had clearly been taken in the last hour or so whenever Loona had returned home: him and Stolas napping on the couch, arms around one another in a tangled embrace. She’d written a caption toward the bottom: Pair of sappy ass dads being gross levels of cute AGAIN. Someone save me. 

He chuckled quietly and screenshotted the photo, briefly wondering whether Loona knew whether it was Octavia’s birthday and if she’d posted the photo passive aggressively, but decided instead to put the phone back down and go right back to being gross levels of cute.

Chapter Text

A part of him still hated feeling like this. Vulnerable, nervous. It somehow felt embarrassing and dangerous, like he’d given Stolas a pistol and immediately turned his back. 

But a bigger part of him was desperate for it. Desperate to do or say anything that might make Stolas happy, might make him feel a fraction of what Blitz had been feeling lately. 

So he tried not to cringe at himself for the way he was absolutely melting as he made love to Stolas like they were in a fucking softcore Sinemax film, his hands braced against trembling, slender thighs as he tried desperately not to unravel. Stolas, for his part, wasn’t exactly making that endeavor easy as the soft, breathy noises he made filled the room like a fucking symphony. (Blitz had never heard a symphony, but he’d heard plenty of windjammers during his time in the circus and this was way fucking better than that.)

Blitz looked up and drank in the perfectly destitute look on Stolas’ face. He let out a groan, nails digging into the feathers and scraping against the flesh beneath where they held his thighs, trying to remain calm. This, unfortunately, had the opposite effect, as the extra stimulation caused Stolas to-

“ Blitz...” His voice was a pitiful whine. “ Blitzy, please…”

If he was being honest, he’d never minded the Blitzy thing nearly as much as he acted like he did. In the past, it had always fallen into the category of ‘shit he knew he should find annoying but it was kinda hot when Stolas did it and he was too lazy to argue so what the fuck ever.’

But it came out so rarely these days, and only when they were like this, which made it all the more satisfying when Blitz could get him to say it, like some sort of accomplishment.

In a move he’d only attempted once or twice before due to how difficult it was to maintain, Blitz grabbed those slender hips and lifted them, practically folding Stolas’ body in on itself so he could reach his face and kiss him while still inside him. This meant that he had limited capacity on how hard he could fuck him, so instead he pushed in as deep as he could, causing Stolas to groan into his mouth, and grinded his hips purposefully. 

Stolas’ hands were all over him as he whimpered and panted against Blitz’s lips. They kept it up for a minute or two, but it was woefully short lived. Stolas whined as Blitz readjusted them again, practically sliding back down the bed to his earlier spot, and he offered an apology in the form of leaning down to press kisses to his chest, burying his face there as Stolas began to gasp in that telltale way that signaled that he was close. 

And holy fuck Blitz could have stayed like this forever, could have spent the rest of his days tangled up in Stolas’ arms and mouth and tongue, and then spent an eternity after that laying in bed with him just talking. 

Ugh, he was so whipped it was pathetic, but in that moment he truly did not give a single fuck. Let him be pathetic. If being pathetic meant that Blitz got to be with him, then he’d take the label happily, would wear it in front of the whole world if he had to because-

“ Fuck, I love you .”

Stolas outright keened at that, back arching as his orgasm shook him to his core. By this point, Blitz’s consciousness had fully separated from his body because oh fuck, who the fuck had said that?! However his body was still very much paying attention to the proceedings and reacted accordingly, giving him one of the strangest orgasms of his life. 

There was a short eternity where Blitz’s consciousness ascended to another plane of existence, one where he hadn’t just blurted that out. He was vaguely aware of collapsing onto Stolas’ chest, where he lived a blissful, numbed out lifetime in that plane before the clarion call of his body beckoned his soul back to add something very important.

“Uh. Shit.”

Yes, that was worth leaving nirvana for.

Maybe Stolas hadn’t heard any of that.

Blitz looked up to find his lover staring at him with wide, shocked eyes. 

Yeah, he really shouldn’t have bothered entertaining that one.

“Uh.” He’d already said that. “I- uh-”

The dichotomy of Stolas’ expression turning awkward, while he was still panting heavily post-orgasm was interesting to say the least. “You don’t have to, um…if that was an accident, it’s… alright if you didn’t mean it.”

“Oh…” That threw Blitz for a loop. What was he saying? Was he signaling that this was something he didn’t want to hear? That he didn’t reciprocate the feeling?

His entire chest seized in panic and he stuttered. “I mean, it’s not- I, uh…”

But as he sputtered, Stolas’ expression grew more and more pained, eyes downcast, and Blitz saw his jaw tremble just slightly. 

No. Fuck that. Fuck this. Fuck it. He was doing this. 

“What I was trying to say,” he tried again, sitting up, “was that I didn’t really mean to say that then. I wanted to say it at a better time, something more sincere and less… fucky. But. I fucked that up too.” He let out an ironic chuckle and dragged a hand down his face, unable to look Stolas in the face anymore. “Fuck, I really can’t do any of this shit right, can I?”

“Wait… you were serious?”

When he looked back, Stolas’ eyes were back on him, somehow even wider than they had been before, his face painted with sheer incredulity.

And did Blitz deserve the skepticism? Absolutely. Still, it stung a little and he felt his defenses flare. “Shit, Stolas, you think I’m over here spilling my guts and stealing books and building you furniture and shit just because I want to fuck you?… well I do, but it’s because I… you know…”

“Do you really?” Stolas asked, staring at him blankly. 

“I mean… yeah.” 

His expression barely changed, but the next second his eyes were turning glassy, welling up with thick tears. Blitz’s stomach dropped straight through the floor.

“Wait, shit, don’t cry!” 

Stolas brought a hand up to his mouth, clearly trying to suppress the tears as silent sobs began to wrack his body. It didn’t help that this was an incredibly awkward position in which to have this conversation, him still sitting between Stolas’ thighs and both of them dripping with sweat and various other bodily fluids. Delicately, he dislodged himself and crawled up the length of Stolas’s torso so he could be level with his face. 

Stolas was now practically hyperventilating and Blitz’s whole chest felt like it had ripped open at the sight of his bird trying and failing to fight back tears. Holy shit, how the fuck had this gone this badly? His hands tried to find a place to touch him, to provide comfort, but they just sort of ended up awkwardly hovering as he sat there and panicked and tried to say fucking anything to fix it. 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way anymore!” he tried to reassure, even though it definitely wasn’t and he currently wanted to throw himself out the window. “I mean a lot has happened-“

But Stolas cut him off, turning back to him to shout at him outright, tears now streaming down his face. “I have been in love with you this whole fucking time, you fucking idiot!” 

The sentiment did not do anything to ease Blitz's nerves as Stolas buried his face in his hands and cried. Blitz was completely at a loss, but it only lasted a moment before he  moved to sit up, wiping at his face impatiently. He seemed to make an attempt at a calming breath, clearly trying to suppress the sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m being ridiculous.”

And something about that just did not sit right with Blitz.

“No, wait,” he found himself blurting out again, his filter having apparently died today.

Stolas looked at him, his face tear streaked, chest still stuttering. He let out a rather adorable sniffle. 

“It’s…” And what the fuck did he want to say here? His first impulse was to somehow make a joke, but ‘If I’m gonna make you cry, at least let me make you cry for fun reasons, baby,’ didn’t seem like the right direction to go. 

What then? That he didn’t mind Stolas crying? That at least one of them shouldn’t be completely emotionally repressed? That Blitz thought his emotions were one of the most beautiful things about him and he should never have to police them for anyone?

Yeah that last one was not gonna fly, he’d already used up his Sappy Romantic Declarations quota for the day.

In the end, he merely reached up to gather that beautiful head of feathers in both hands. 

“It’s okay,” was all he managed to say. Another tear managed to escape his eye, and Blitz caught it with his thumb as it rolled down his face, wiping it away. 

“It’s alright,” he repeated.

Stolas looked like he was about to unleash another round of sobs, and Blitz braced himself, but instead, he leaned in to gather Blitz in his arms, holding him fiercely. 

Blitz didn’t say anything, just held him back. They stayed like that for a while, and Blitz settled in comfortably, knowing that he could happily stay there for hours if that’s what Stolas needed. He thought about all the times he’d laid in someone’s arms and still felt lonely; how this could not have been more different. 

“Why is everything so much more complicated than I imagined?” Stolas murmured into his shoulder. “I’ve wanted this with you for so long, and I’m so happy… but also, now I’m more afraid than ever.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” he replied, tracing patterns up and down his back. “But that’s fuckin existence for ya.”

Stolas let out a wet little laugh. There was another pause, and then…

“Can you…?” He trailed off. 

“What?” Blitz felt a smile creep onto his face. “Say it again?”

“You don’t have to,” he immediately backtracked, pulling back, eyes darting away from him, nervous in a way that made Blitz’s protective instincts go absolutely feral. “I know it was probably very difficult for you to say it the first time and-”

Blitz cut him off by grabbing onto his chin and gently readjusting him until he was looking him in the eye again.

And he could have laughed, it was so fucking easy. 

“I love you, Stols.” 

Stolas’s eyes welled up again but he answered immediately. “I love you too.”

Blitz kissed him long and hard, and it felt like making a claim; Not of ownership, but of intent. Devotion. It felt like an undertaking; as though his life’s purpose would now include loving this man. 

And because this was the man he loved (yep, he could tell he was gonna start saying shit like that way too much), he was delighted but not surprised when Stolas broke the kiss and asked,  “Can we fuck again?” 

“Til you can’t fuckin walk, baby.”

“Oh, thank Lucifer.”