Chapter Text
Blitz’s sorrow was harsh and bitter on his tongue, so he did the only thing he could think of; he got in his van and made the trek down to Queen Bee’s mansion in Gluttony. Only the sweetness of beelzejuice could wash this taste out of his mouth, he had decided, and as soon as he took his first shot in the middle of a wild late night party, surrounded by flashing lights and the white noise of drunken cheering, he determined that it had been the best idea he’d had in years. So, as soon as he put down the shot glass, he had another two in his hands and poured them down his gullet.
The buzz kicked in quickly after that, making his brain swim delightfully between his ears. A few more shots softened the edges of his vision and multiplied the number of people in the room without the noise level changing, and before he knew it, he was staggering through the mansion, whooping happily.
He blinked, one eye at a time when his head cleared slightly a little while later, and found that he was kissing someone. He had no recollection of how he got there, and in his drunken state, he mentally shrugged. He was already there - he might as well join in. The hellhound held him close, digging his nails into his back and Blitz threw himself into the kiss, ignoring how different this guy’s claws were to Stolas’s talons, how he smelled of booze and cigarette smoke instead of lavender and stardust, because Blitz wasn’t thinking about Stolas, no sir. Who gave a shit that birdbrain didn’t want him anymore? Blitz certainly didn’t. He kissed the guy harder, trying to smother his thoughts in lust but they still swirled in his mind, uncontrolled like a raging tornado.
“Blitz, what the fuck are you doing here?” a raspy voice demanded. The sound nudged his booze-addled brain with a familiarity that he couldn’t quite place.
Blitz pulled his mouth free of the hellhound and looked toward the voice, but all he could see were blurry colorful shapes. The hellhound gripped his arms tightly, asking why he stopped, trying to pull him back, but suddenly gears whirred in Blitz’s ears and they were pulled apart. Blitz was thrown over the colorful blob’s shoulder. He heard the hellhound object, but that gear sound happened again and the hellhound went silent. Blitz tried to wiggle free, but his limbs weren’t obeying, his movement sloppy and uncoordinated.
“What the hell are you doing, Blitz?” that raspy voice said again. Hands wrapped more securely around his body in a way that didn’t seem possible, unless this fucker had like elasta-girl stretchy arms.
Heh, that human world movie was fun. Incredible even. Blitz giggled at his own private joke. The blob started walking, carrying him who the fuck knows where.
“Fuck man, why’d you drag me away? I was having fun…” Blitz slurred. He wasn’t sure how coherent his words were.
“Yeah, it sure looked like it,” the blob said. “I’m taking you back to the penthouse. You need to sleep this off.”
“No, you need to sleep off,” Blitz hiccuped, not even noticing that that didn’t make sense. His muscles were exhausted, and his eyes felt like there were little weights attached to the lashes. The blob said something else, but Blitz didn’t hear it. He was too busy sinking into beelzejuice induced darkness.
Blitz woke up with the worst headache he’d had in a long time. It pulsed behind his eyes, sending waves of nausea through his gut the moment he tried to sit up and look at his surroundings. In an instant hands were supporting his back, shoving a goblet to his lips and tipping in the contents. Blitz choked a bit as it went down his throat, but as soon as he managed a swallow, he felt the nausea recede.
“There we go,” said that raspy voice from before, only now Blitz knew why it was familiar. His blurry vision slowly cleared, gradually bringing the imp into focus. His childhood friend, Fizz, stood before him, donning pajamas and his signature jester hat, holding a cup to Blitz’s lips like he was a sick child. Blitz blinked, pushing away Fizz’s hand and sat up, this time without the world spinning and his stomach doing backflips.
“Where the fuck am I?” Blitz rubbed his temples, taking in the extravagantly decorated room and the frankly enormous bed he was laying on – it was way bigger than any imp could ever need.
“You’re at mine and Ozzie’s penthouse,” Fizz said. “I found you at Queen Bee’s last night, and you weren’t doing too well, so I brought you here.”
Broken images of flashing lights and horrible kissing swam through his hazy mind, and Blitz groaned.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he grumped. “I can take care of myself.” Fizz just threw him an annoyed glare and thrusted the half-empty goblet under his nose.
“Finish this, will you? Ozzie will kill me if you puke on our bed.” Blitz wrinkled his nose, but downed the rest of the glass like a shot as Fizz sat on the bed next to him. “So do you want to tell me why you were trying to drink half of Gluttony last night?”
Blitz rotated the goblet in his fingers. “What, a guy can’t just let loose sometimes? I was just having some fun.”
Fizz shook his head. “I’ve seen you ‘let loose and have fun.’ What you were doing was way more self destructive.”
“Bah.” Blitz looked around, taking in all the risque pictures on the wall. “So this is yours and Ozzie’s place, huh?” He grinned despite the pounding in his head. “You must have some pretty cool shit around here, right?”
Fizz snorted at Blitz’s blatant attempt to change the subject. “I mean, this place is pretty fucking cool, but is there any specific ‘cool shit’ that you’re refering to?”
“Come on, Fizz, you’re dating the King of Lust,” Blitz laughed. “You must have some kind of sex dungeon in here somewhere, and frankly, I’m not leaving until I see it.”
“We don’t have a sex dungeon, and you’re not leaving until we talk about whatever the fuck was going on with you last night,” Fizz said firmly. Blitz rolled his eyes.
“Nothing is going on, Fizz,” he said. “Besides, if something was going on, I wouldn’t want to talk about it immediately after waking up with a hangover. I’d want to do something fun first…” He grinned slyly. “Like visiting a sex dungeon!”
“We don’t have a sex dungeon,” Fizz repeated, sounding irritated. Blitz razzed.
“Boo.” He thought for a moment, rubbing away the remaining sleep that crusted his eyes. “Ozzie runs the sex toy factories around here, right? What has the big chicken been working on? Does he have any of the new not-out-yet shit laying around?”
“Why are you being so one-track-mindy about sex shit? You literally have a hangover – right now, you’d be the worst lay ever.” Blitz just grinned at him and Fizz pinched the bridge of his nose. “If I show you the prototype room, will you please talk to me about whatever the fuck is was going on with you last night?”
Blitz scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll consider it.”
The jester sighed. “Fine. Get your drunk ass out of bed. If you can,” he added as an afterthought, heading towards the door. Blitz swung his legs over the edge of the bed and got to his feet, taking pride in the fact that they only wobbled a little as he followed Fizz down the hall. He grabbed his horse tote bag, which Fizz had apparently rescued from the party as he passed.
Blitz stared at the fancy wallpaper as Fizz led him through a maze of turns, nearly crashing into him when the jester suddenly stopped. Recovering, he looked up at the giant bronze wall decoration in front of them. He raised an eyebrow.
“Are those angel wings?” he asked. Fizz grinned.
“Yep.” He walked up to a keypad next to them and started typing in a code.
“Why?”
“Because the shit Ozzie makes is ‘Heaven in Hell.’” Fizz pressed enter on the keypad and stepped back as a green heart popped up on the little screen. The angel wings shuddered and slowly lifted away, exposing a huge, heart shaped hole in the wall. A red velvet curtain on the other side slowly lifted like it was revealing a broadway stage, and the scene it exposed sure made Blitz want to sing.
The prototype room was the size of Blitz’s entire shitty apartment, and every inch of the wallspace was lined with lingerie and BDSM accessories of every shape and size imaginable. The center of the room had a circle of podiums, each proudly presenting a different sex toy that Blitz had yet to see on the market. Fizz was right. ‘Heaven in Hell’ was an accurate description.
“Christ on a bike, Fizz!” Blitz laughed despite his headache. “This is fucking great!”
“Wait til you see this one,” Fizz said, sprinting towards one of the podiums. He grabbed what looked like a T-Shirt cannon and pointed it in Blitz’s direction, a twisted grin on his face. Alarm bells went off in Blitz’s head at that expression – maybe this hadn’t been the best method of distracting Fizz from his drinking.
Fizz pulled the trigger and the biggest, most ridiculous looking, writhing purple cock Blitz had ever seen exploded outwards, sending Blitz diving to the ground in self preservation. That image, punctuated by Fizz’s maniacal laughter, would go down in history as the funniest shit he had ever seen.
“Who the fuck would ever want to use that?” Blitz cackled, tears streaming down his face. His head pounded, but the levity was completely worth it. Fizz snorted and released the trigger, and the toy retracted back to its normal form. He put it back on the podium and turned to Blitz.
“I don’t know,” he said, taking Blitz’s hand and pulling him to his feet. “Maybe your prince would, if everything you’ve told me about him is true.” Blitz’s mouth went sour. He pulled his hands free and crossed his arms, casting his eyes to the floor.
“Who gives a shit what that fancy fuck likes?” he snapped. “I sure fucking don’t.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fizz do a double take, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Fizz hesitated for a second before asking a question Blitz wasn’t expecting.
“Did Stolas give you the gift?”
Blitz flinched, his eyes flying up to meet Fizz’s. His spines rattling, he spat, “How the fuck do you know about that?”
Fizz raised an eyebrow. “It’s an Asmodean crystal, Blitz. He got it from Oz, and I’m fucking dating the guy.” He stared at him searchingly, and Blitz’s stomach turned at the scrutiny. “Why are you so upset about it?”
“What do you mean, ‘why am I upset?’” Blitz snapped. “Do you expect me to be happy that the fucking bird just kicked me out of his life?”
“He kicked you out of his life?”
“Yeah!” Blitz threw his hands in the air, anger boiling in his gut. “He told me he wanted nothing to do with our deal anymore, that he wanted to get rid of me, and then had the gall to try and make me feel bad about being angry.”
Fizz tilted his head. “Blitz, that doesn’t sound right.”
“What?”
Fizz sighed. “Listen, Stolas and Oz are decent friends, that’s why Stolas came and asked for the crystal,” he said. “Based on everything that Oz told me about that conversation, Stolas didn’t want the crystal so you would go away. He wanted the crystal so you would stay. Oz said that Stolas wanted to give you the crystal so that you weren’t trading sex for his spellbook anymore. That way any time you spend together after that is by choice and not obligation.”
Blitz scoffed. “Bullshit. He never gave a shit about what I wanted.”
“Blitz, remember what you told me back when Striker had us locked up?” Fizz asked, looking frustrated. “You said that he would try and talk to you, check in with you, and spend time with you outside of your fuckings. Can you think of a single logical reason a rational person would do that if they didn’t actually want a deeper relationship with you?”
“I mean–”
“And if he does want a deeper relationship with you, doesn’t it make sense that he’d want to remove the transactional part of your relationship, so that it can become something deeper and real?”
Something twisted painfully in Blitz’s stomach. “Stolas is not fucking logical,” Blitz said, but his voice sounded thin even to him. Fizz looked at him sympathetically.
“Blitz, you’re stubborn and hardheaded and frankly, a bit stupid, but I know you’re not an idiot.”
Blitz blinked. “Thanks?” he said, and Fizz cracked a smile.
“Seriously, I want you to think about it. What exactly did Stolas say to you when he gave you that crystal?”
Blitz didn’t answer. He could only stare at the floor as the memory of Stolas’s tear streaked voice floated through his head.
The grimoire was the only reason you came here. You never came here for me, not really. Our relationship, whatever it is we have – None of it was ever real, and I was a fool to think it ever could be. I want something real. I just want someone to care. I want someone to want… me.
Blitz’s eyes widened as it finally sank into his thick skull. Stolas had wanted to change the context of their relationship, because as it was, it could never become something real, and Stolas wanted something real, because he was lonely and sad. Stolas just wanted to be wanted.
Just like Blitz.
Then Blitz’s throat tightened as he remembered what he had replied.
There isn’t a single fucking demon in this shitty hellhole who’d ever truly want your sorry feathered ass!
“Oh, Satan,” Blitz whispered, clutching at the base of his horns. “Fuck. Fuck, I’ve been an idiot.”
Fizz pressed his mouth into a thin line. “Ya think?”
Blitz sucked in a breath, suddenly finding that air wasn’t coming as easily as before. Digging his nails into his temple, he glanced at Fizz, whose expression morphed into one of concern at the look in his eye. The jester stepped forward cautiously.
“Blitz? Are you–”
“I have to go,” Blitz heard himself say. Without another word, he sprinted out of the prototype room.
Somehow he ended up in one of the trillion bathrooms in the penthouse, sitting against the locked door with his phone in his shaking hands. Heart racing, he pulled up Stolas’s contact.
He had to talk to him, but… was there even anything he could say to make this better? Would an apology ever be enough? Because Blitz couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d never before treated Stolas so much like Stella had, and the thought alone was enough to make bile rise in his throat. He clenched his teeth, biting the bullet. He tapped Stolas’s contact and put the phone to his ear.
There was a moment of silence before a voice spoke.
“Sorry. The number you have dialed has been disconnected. Goodbye.”
The call dropped, and there was his answer; People have blocked his number enough times for him to know what that automated message meant. Blitz lowered his phone from his ear and stared straight ahead, barely feeling the phone slip through his fingers or hearing it clatter on the tile floor. His chest tightened as that void from the night before roared back to life, and he felt like he was falling.
There would be nobody to catch him when he hit the ground.