Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Immortality was promised to Stolas before he was old enough to grasp the concept of time. It was an exceptionally steep learning curve, because the more Stolas learned about the world, the more he suspected that there was something wrong about this promise. Time – the enormity of it, the consistency, the apathy, and yet, merely because of the family that he was born into, Stolas was meant to be above it?

In all honesty, it felt like time – along with much of the universe – loomed above Stolas, daring him to try and exert some ounce of authority over any of it. A failed Goetia, like his father had always expected, and his ex-wife reminded him in that condescending screech of hers. A promise? It was more like a never-ending life sentence, if anything. At least until eternity grew bored of him.

It was only a matter of that very thing – time – until Stolas’ deep-seated instinct was proven correct. As he stared down the barrel of a glowing gun, catching the flash of a toothy grin, it occurred to him that he was often proven right about the very worst things. 

Acting like a whiny bitch until the end, huh? 

That’s what Stolas imagined Blitzø would say, insults rolling so easily off of his forked tongue. But Stolas was being quite dramatic, wasn’t he? A ‘pompous, rich, asshole’, feeling sorry for himself when he had grown up with every privilege a demon could ask for. Ending up here was his own fault.

And yet he couldn’t help but wish, in these last moments of his pathetic life, that there had been one good thing, however small or simple, that he had been right about. An ironic wish for a prince of Hell.

“You shoulda known that I’d catch you again, pretty bird,” Striker said, each word dripping with malice and barely restrained glee. He dug his boot deeper into Stolas’ shoulder, and Stolas heard his hollow bones crack, although he could hardly feel it. All that was left in him was a throbbing numbness and a worry for Via, just like the last time he’d been in this scenario. 

Except no one was coming to save him this time. 

“Nothing to say?” Striker asked, pushing the barrel of his gun into Stolas’ cheek. “No disgusting remark about the imp you forced to be your booty call?” Stolas winced at that, and Striker’s grin grew impossibly wide, seeing that he struck a chord. Stolas closed his eyes and took a breath, meeting Striker’s gaze once more. He loved being a petty bitch, of course, but nothing of importance, no clever, final words came to mind. 

“Fine, then,” Striker said. “Seems like your ex-wife has had enough of you. Musta pissed her off enough to follow through with killin’ you after all.” He released the safety and aimed the gun above Stolas’ heart, which started to beat more quickly. As much as he was resigned to this, restrained by blessed rope and too bruised and bloodied to fight back, it was hard to keep the panic at bay. “At least someone cared enough to want to kill you, blue blood. That’s more than the likes of you deserve.” 

A click, bang, and pain flooded into Stolas’ chest, blowing his eyes wide. The world became hot and blurry. A sticky ooze spread across his body. He could hear manic laughter.

“And this ain’t no normal bullet,” Striker added. “The perfect end for an unlovable prince,” he spat out that last word like a curse. 

“Get off of him, asshole!” a voice shouted. New voices quickly grew louder. It sounded like a fight was taking place, one that didn’t last long, although it was hard to tell as Stolas’ vision swam.

“Oh fuck,” a voice said, standing over him. Had minutes passed? Hours? “Stolas, can you hear me?” Stolas furrowed his brow in confusion, trying to make sense of what was happening as a large, blurry figure loomed over him. Was this even real? Did it even matter? “We need to do something, now,” the voice said, and Stolas had a vague sense that that wasn’t directed at him. 

“Portal to our place?” the other voice asked. “Shit, Ozz. Do you have anything that can –?”

“I think so,” the deeper voice said. Stolas felt like he was being lifted in the air. “But this isn’t really what I do.”

“I think it’s our only option." Stolas could hear the whirring of metal sliding against metal. “He’s dead if we don’t. Fuck, Blitzø doesn’t even know. Should I –?” Stolas suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest and found himself twitching, no longer in control of his body. It was becoming harder to breathe. It was as if a flame had somehow sparked and erupted inside of him, burning him from the inside out.

“Later,” the deeper voice said. “Stolas, you need to fight, okay? We’ll get you through this.” Darkness was creeping into the corner of Stolas’ vision, his limbs feeling impossibly heavy. Thoughts began to meld together into an indiscriminate mass. 

He tried to open his beak to respond, but only a shuddering gasp escaped. As he began to lose consciousness, a bright light and a flurry of creative curses spinning around him, he couldn’t help but wonder, in that despairing way of his –

What would he be fighting for?

“What a shithole,” Blitzø said, lifting his foot to watch a group of large cockroaches skitter past him and across the trash-ridden concrete. The air smelled of smoke, piss, and pizza. “Are we sure we left Hell?”

“Sure did. Went through the portal and everything,” Millie answered, twirling her knife between her fingers as she leaned against a busted metal trash can.

“Hey! Look what I got!” Moxxie called out, joining them in the alley. He was wearing a white t-shirt many sizes too large, reaching past his knees. Blitzø walked up to him and bent down to get a closer look, squinting his eyes.

“I. Apple. N. Y,” Blitzø slowly read aloud. He straightened his back, putting his hands on his hips. “Moxxie, why the fuck did you get a dress with the alphabet on it?” Moxxie gave him a baffled look. Then he rolled his eyes.

“I see you didn’t look through the alphabet book I got you,” he said, shaking his head. “You know, it’d be good for the company if our boss learned how to -” Blitzø walked past him and towards the edge of the alley, looking around the corner. He’d expected to get suspicious looks from people passing by, but no one seemed to take notice of them. If anything, most people were actively not looking at other people and minding their business. They were Blitzø’s type of people. Moxxie followed after Blitzø, gesturing to his t-shirt. “The ‘N’ and ‘Y’ stand for New York, by the way, and the apple is there instead of a heart, because, apparently, this is the ‘Big Apple’.”

“Big Apple?” Millie said, putting a hand on her hip. “Ain't that Lucifer’s thing? Shit, maybe we are still in Hell.”

“Exactly!” Blitzø said. He checked the crystal on his arm. Every once in a while he’d have trouble with it. Maybe Stolas gave him a defective one just to fuck him over. Petty bitch. 

He ran gentle fingers along the amber surface, seeing pieces of his own reflection. As much as he tried to forget, he couldn’t help but remember the way Stolas smiled as he danced with whoever-the-fuck (Blitzø knew exactly who that bastard was but chose to forget his name) at Verosika’s party. He remembered Stolas’ musical laughter, and the cute way Stolas’ words slurred as he pouted and complained while Blitzø held him in his lap. Who knew Stolas could be such a sloppy drunk? Blitzø found himself smiling at the memory, and then wincing as he thought about everything else that happened. So fucking embarrassing. 

“We’re not in Hell,” Loona said, pulling Blitzø away from his thoughts as she entered the alley. She was in her human form, a hot dog in her hand. “We’re in Times Square. And the target just went that way.” She vaguely gestured behind her, towards the large, busy street.

“And why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” Moxxie asked, exasperated. He pulled out his gun and ran to join Blitzø, scanning the crowds. Loona rolled her eyes.

“You were too busy stealing clothes.” She looked Moxxie up and down. “The shirt seems a little small.” Moxxie huffed in annoyance and looked over at Millie. His gaze softened when he did.

“Ready to kill some people, honey?” he asked. Millie grinned, moving to stand next to him, knife at the ready.

“You know I love our quality time, Mox.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and Moxxie gave her a dopey grin in response. 

“Okay, you horny freaks,” Blitzø said, rolling his eyes. “As much as I love to watch –” he ignored Moxxie’s look of disgust “– let’s get this done fast so we can get the rest of our payment. Daddy needs a new set of brakes. I’m surprised I haven’t crashed that piece of shit yet.” 

“You have. Many times,” Moxxie muttered, but Blitzø ignored him, trying to find their target. The client told him that he’d be pretty noticeable. 

“It’s that guy over there,” Loona said, pointing across the street. Blitzø followed her gaze until he saw something red and furry.

“That’s a human?” Millie asked.

“Elmo, apparently,” Loona said with a shrug. “But not the actual Elmo, whoever that is, someone who’s dressed up like him and charges people a shit-ton to take pictures with him.” 

“The fuck?” Blitzø asked, turning to look at Loona, who took a bite of her hot dog. 

“That’s what I was told,” she offered as she chewed. “You gonna kill him or what?” Blitzø grinned, watching this fake ‘Elmo’ wave at people and get ignored. He seemed harmless enough, but he pissed off the wrong person in Hell, and as long as they got paid Blitzø didn’t give a flying fuck about the specifics. 

“M&M, remember the plan?” Blitzø asked, pulling out his gun. Millie and Moxxie nodded. 

“Leave it to us,” Millie said. With that Millie and Moxxie ran across the street, concealing their weapons for the time being. Blitzø watched as they approached this ‘Elmo’, striking up a conversation. Suddenly Blitzø’s phone rang, ringtone blasting.

“Shit!” Blitzø said in surprise, hastily pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking the caller ID. He furrowed his brow and answered the phone, glancing at Loona. 

“Fizz, I’m working right now –” he said, waving his gun around with his other hand.

“Oh, oops, but uh, you probably want to hear this.” Blitzø’s eyes widened a fraction and he walked deeper into the alley, away from the noise coming from the street. He put his gun away, not liking Fizz's tone.

“Okay, now that you’ve freaked me the fuck out, care to explain what’s going on? Is it Mammon? Do I need to kill somebody?” A long pause followed. “Fizz.”

“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses -”

“Are you trying to have phone sex with me right now? Is that what this is -?”

“I still can’t believe you haven’t grown out of this whole horse thing, Blitzø, it’s really -”

“Yeah whatever, just get on with it. What do I need to hear so bad that you’re calling me right now?”

“Well, um, it’s just, shit, I’m trying to figure out how to say this –”

“How to say what?” Blitzø asked, impatient. He could hear Fizz sigh, and then he heard another voice say something. Was that Ozzie? 

“Hello, Blitzø.” He was right.

“What the fuck is going on? Is Fizz okay?”

“Fizz is fine,” Ozzie assured him. “It’s Stolas.”

“Oh,” Blitzø said, glancing at the crystal on his arm again. 

“You should come see him,” Ozzie added. Blitzø let out a bitter laugh. So that’s what this was about.

“What, did my skank ex not satisfy him, and now he wants to come crawling back for a rough –?”

“No,” Ozzie interrupted him, and something about his tone shut Blitzø up. “He was hurt.”

“Hurt?” Blitzø asked, eyes widening.

“There was a lot of blood when we found him. He was close to death. Well, he technically did die, for a moment there –” Ozzie tried to explain. Blitzø’s eyes widened further. He tightened his grip on his phone. 

“He didn’t have to know that, babe,” Blitzø could hear Fizz say. 

“When, h-how –?” Blitzø began. His mind began to race. The last time he’d seen Stolas was at that party. He seemed to be doing great by the end of it. Disgustingly great. What happened? Who would –?

The image of Stolas getting wheeled away in front of the hospital came to mind, and then everything that happened at the Harvest Moon festival –  

“Was it Striker?” Blitzø asked, clenching a fist. “Was Stolas’ bitch ex-wife stupid enough to try and kill him again?” Apparently she didn’t just try, she succeeded, according to Ozzie. He shook his head. “Where is he?” He glanced over at Loona, her hot dog now gone. She was looking at him in concern, which wasn’t typical for her. Did he look that pathetic? 

“He’s at our place,” Ozzie explained. “He’s not conscious, but –”

“I’ll come by,” Blitzø said. “I wanna know exactly what happened.”

“Yes, of course,” Ozzie said. “We’ll be waiting.” 

“He’ll, uh,” Blitzø cleared his throat. “He’s stable?” 

“Yes, somehow,” Ozzie said, letting out an exhale. Blitzø nodded, still trying to process what he’d just been told. He didn’t like the way Ozzie said somehow, as if it was some kind of miracle. Like Blitzø had been that close to losing him.

“Okay.”

“It’ll be okay, Blitzø,” Fizz said, back on the phone.

“Please, I'm fine,” Blitzø said. He let out a shaky laugh. “I’m suuuper fine right now, Fizz. We’re in the middle of murdering this red, furry pervert, but I’ll be there soon.” He hung up before he got a response. He didn’t like the pity in their voices, the seriousness. It was that close of a call, huh? Stolas could’ve – technically he did –

“Hey,” Loona said, and Blitzø shoved his phone in his pocket, turning to face her. 

“Did they lure that creep over here yet? What’s taking them so long?” Blitzø asked, walking back to the edge of the alley to get a better look. “Well shit.” He watched as Moxxie and Millie were being swarmed by a mob of humans in cheap costumes.

“You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us!” one of them yelled, throwing a shoe at Moxxie. He was wearing a tacky superhero costume that was a size too small. The spandex didn’t leave much for the imagination, although there wasn’t ‘much’ to even see. Moxxie easily dodged the shoe and shot him. Millie was on the shoulders of someone in a mouse costume, and quickly the mouse’s head was facing the wrong direction. As the mouse dropped to the pavement, Millie was already leaping towards someone in a snowman costume, knives in both hands and a murderous glint in her eyes.

“Hey!” Blitzø called out. They couldn’t hear him over the crowds. This place was too fucking loud. “Dammit.” He ran over to them, narrowly avoiding bikes and pedestrians as he shot any costumed freak that stood in his way. Soon he was back-to-back with Moxxie, catching his breath. Moxxie’s new shirt was already torn and covered in fresh bloodstains. “What happened to the target? Did you kill him?” Blitzø asked.

“Yes. We tried to bring him over to you, but he kept demanding that we pay him first. Then all these weirdos showed up out of nowhere,” Moxxie explained as he sniped someone in a furry, blue costume, not too dissimilar from the Elmo. “Were you not watching?”

“About that,” Blitzø said, shooting down someone in a cowboy hat, boots, and barely anything else. “We need to leave. Now.” He could feel Moxxie’s eyes on him, but he didn’t explain further.

“Okay,” Moxxie said. “Millie!”

“Yeah?” Millie called out. She was currently on the back of another mouse, this one with a bow on its head, and was pulling its arm back way farther than it was probably meant to go. 

“Blitzø says it’s time to go!”

“Aw! Okay!” she said, letting go of the arm and running over to them, stabbing whoever was in her path. Together they ran back to the alley where Loona was waiting, arms crossed and looking disinterested. Blitzø rubbed the crystal on his arm and thankfully the portal opened without resistance. Blitzø took one last look over his shoulder. Some of the costumed people were now fighting each other, and the already busy street was quickly becoming more chaotic. He could hear the sound of approaching sirens. Well, either way they were getting paid. Besides, he had more important things to worry about. 

He waited for everyone else to go through the portal. Then he took a deep breath, following after them and returning to Hell.

Stolas woke up with an awful headache and a dull pain in his chest. He tried sitting up, quickly realized that that was a terrible idea, and fell back down into a pile of pillows.

“Ow,” Stolas said, although he was too devoid of energy to put much passion into it. He looked around with blurry eyes as he tried to make sense of where he was. He was in a large, circular, and extremely comfortable bed surrounded by gossamer curtains. The high-ceilinged room was covered in deep reds, purples, and blues, pulling off a tasteful baroque air that he couldn’t help but admire. He turned to see a wall decorated with...creative sex toys. “Oh my,” he breathed, feeling his face flush.

For a moment Stolas wondered if he’d been kidnapped, but if that was the case, he probably wouldn’t be in such a comfortable bed in such a beautiful room. Or maybe his kidnapper was some kind of pervert and wanted their way with him. He took a deep breath, feeling an ache in his ribs. He placed his hand over his heart and his eyes widened in surprise, feeling thick bandages there. His whole torso was wrapped in them. He was wearing a maroon robe as well, very much in his style but unfamiliar to him.

“Okay, Stolas. Let’s think.” He attempted to organize his sluggish thoughts, trying to remember how he got here, why everything hurt, and why the room felt so humid.

He’d been on his way back from a successful meeting with some lawyers in the Greed ring –

Oh, right.  

In that same moment the tall, gilded door leading into the bedroom opened. Stolas found the energy to lift himself up into a sitting position, wondering whether he was about to encounter a friend or foe. A small figure approached the bed, parting the curtain, and Stolas relaxed slightly when he saw Fizzarolli holding a tray. Fizz met Stolas’ gaze and hesitated for a moment, before extending an arm to push the curtain further out of the way and sitting on the edge of the bed, setting the tray next to him. There was a large glass of water and a small, folded towel on it.

“Didn’t think you’d be awake yet,” Fizz said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, we’ve never really talked before, but I’m –”

“Fizzarolli,” Stolas finished for him. Stolas let out a short laugh, wincing at the sudden pain in his shoulder and remembering how Striker had dug his boot into it. “You are too famous not to know, and besides, you left quite an impression at Ozzie’s.” 

“Riiight,” Fizz dragged out the word, looking sheepish. “Back when I hated Blitzø’s guts and was feeling petty. Guess you got caught in the crossfire there, nothing personal.”

“I can understand the feeling,” Stolas said with a sigh. He furrowed his brow. “Mm, I suppose I’ve never truly hated his guts, but I’ve definitely sang about my…complicated opinions about him.” He thought back to Verosika’s party. It now occurred to him that he never asked Blitzø if he’d heard his song. Stolas was too busy downing whatever alcohol he could find. He hoped that Blitzø hadn’t. It would be too mortifying. 

Although, a small part of him wondered whether it would be good if Blitzø had listened to it. Maybe Blitzø would better understand Stolas’ feelings, that they were genuine rather than some silly attempt at roleplaying love - 

“Complicated is a good word. That stupid asshole,” Fizz said with a scoff, but Stolas heard the note of fondness in his tone. It loosened something in Stolas’ chest, feeling a relief that he didn’t have a right to feel. It seemed like they had resolved whatever conflict they had. 

He remembered Blitzø’ telling him once, after one of their ‘full moon’ sessions, that he knew Fizz a long time ago, but then things got ‘complicated’. It explained why he hated that robot at Loo Loo Land so much, something Stolas had found himself wondering about. Blitzø never elaborated, but Stolas was touched that he was willing to share even that much information. Stolas knew Blitzø enough to know that that was a rarity. It had given Stolas a glimmer of hope that maybe he meant something more to Blitzø. A hope that had been misguided. 

“So,” Stolas said, nervously smoothing out the plush, violet blanket draped over his lap. “I remember that cowboy fellow, Stella’s habitual assassin-for-hire, apparently,” Stolas said, rolling his eyes, “appearing out of an alley while I was in the Greed ring.” Striker had told Stolas that he kidnapped Via and wouldn’t let her go unless Stolas cooperated. Stolas suspected that it could be a lie, but it wasn’t worth the risk if he was wrong. So he swallowed his pride and cooperated, finding himself in an abandoned warehouse, tied up in blessed rope with a gun to his head. 

At first Stolas assumed that Stella wanted something from him – money, the estate, or just the pleasure of knowing that he’d been hurt and panicked about Via’s safety – but as he thought back to Striker lowering the gun to his heart and pulling the trigger, it was clear that Stella had decided to finally follow through with killing him. He shook his head, feeling feverish and unsettled. 

‘The perfect end for an unlovable prince,’ Striker had told him. 

“First, is my daughter safe?” Stolas asked, choosing to focus on what was most important. “I should call her –” He looked around for his phone, but didn’t see it.

“Your phone was in pieces when we found you at the warehouse,” Fizz explained. Worry lanced through Stolas. Fizz seemed to pick up on his expression and quickly held out his arms. “But! Your daughter’s fine. Ozz sent someone by your place to check in on her and let her know where you are.” Stolas leaned back into the pillows, letting out an exhale. He still needed to contact her himself, but he should probably figure out what happened after he lost consciousness. He placed his hand over his bandages once more, trying to ignore the burning heat coursing through him. He reached over and grabbed the wet towel with his other hand, placing it on his forehead. Thankfully it was cold.

“I must say, I don’t understand how you two found me,” Stolas said after a moment, looking at Fizz in curiosity, towel pressed against his forehead. “And truthfully, how I am alive.” 

“Someone told Ozzie about the situation,” Fizz explained, looking uncomfortable. Stolas narrowed his eyes, extremely skeptical.

“I doubt that that information was given by a good samaritan,” he said more than asked. Fizz’s expression confirmed as much. Stolas sighed. “I apologize for the trouble I caused both you and Asmodeus. You did not have to –”

“Don’t worry about it,” Fizz said with a wave of his arm, extending and retracting it. “Ozzie told me you helped him out when I got kidnapped, and I’ve heard the embarrassing way Blitzø has talked about you, so I knew he’d be pissed if –” Stolas shook his head.

“I did nothing to help, just read some words that ended up being of little importance,” he corrected. “And I’m not sure what Blitzø told you, but any relationship we had was an obligation for him, much to my own mortification, and that obligation has been appropriately voided.”

“Wow, those are some big fucking words,” Fizz said with a grin. Then his smile faltered. “Are you saying that you and Blitzø are, uh –?”

“We never were,” Stolas finished for him. He put more pressure on the towel on his forehead, the heat under his skin making him irritable.

“So if, hypothetically, I called him and asked him to come here –?” Stolas snapped his eyes back to Fizz.

“He’s here?” 

“He said he’d be here soon,” Fizz explained, letting out an uncomfortable laugh. Stolas groaned, flopping back on the bed and immediately regretting it when pain spiked in his chest. He was feverish and uncomfortable, like something wasn’t quite right with his body. 

“Shit, should I tell him not to –?” Fizz asked, seeing Stolas’ reaction. Stolas looked up at the ornate ceiling, unsure of what to say.

“I KNEW IT WAS THAT COCK-SUCKING COWBOY!” An all-too-familiar voice yelled from down the hall. Fizz winced. Too late. Stolas caught Fizz’s guilty look and gave him a weary smile.

“It’s fine. And thank you, for saving me. I apologize for not saying that sooner. I must thank Asmodeus as well.” Stolas let out a bitter laugh. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble.” How embarrassing. Stolas was grateful that someone had rescued him, but it did sting that, just like his last encounter with Striker, it was two people that he didn’t know all that well. And they did it out of a sense of obligation, or for Blitzø’s sake, but not out of care for Stolas. He didn’t blame any of them for that, of course, but it was a stark reminder of just how lonely he was. Had always been.

Blitzø was about to throw open the door, knowing that Stolas was one the other side, but then he stopped his hand, pulling it away from the door handle. 

“Shit,” he said under his breath, clenching his fists at his sides. Is this what Stolas would want? Blitzø storming into his room like some kind of ‘hero’ who was late for any of the actual saving? Who didn’t do jack-shit when Stolas needed him? Who was all the way in the living world beating up some costumed idiots for money? And why did he care so much? They didn't mean anything to each other, at least not anymore.

‘I’ll just make it worse,’ Blitzø thought to himself, staring at the door handle. He thought back to when he snuck into Stolas’ place after that nightmare of a full moon. He remembered their fight by the pool. None of Blitzø’s words came out right, and the disgust was obvious in Stolas’ expression, souring more the more Blitzø talked. Everything was over between them, right? Why did he rush over here?

“Hm?” Ozzie moved to stand next to Blitzø, looking down at him in curiosity. “Aren’t you going to go in?”

Fuck it. Blitzø threw open the door, walking in to see Fizz sitting next to Stolas, who was sitting up in a large, fluffy bed, pressing a towel to his forehead. As Blitzø approached them he saw the nervous way Fizz was looking between Stolas and Blitzø, and then at Ozzie, who had followed Blitzø into the room. Blitzø stopped in the middle of the room, losing his nerve. He put his hands on his hips, feigning confidence he didn’t currently have.

“You look like shit,” Blitzø said. It was obvious, even from a distance. Stolas looked exhausted. His feathers were ruffled, sticking out at awkward angles in places that Blitzø wanted to smooth his hands over. His face looked flushed, and not in a sexy way. In a feverish, sickly way.

“I’ve certainly had better, more attractive days,” Stolas said wearily, unfazed. Blitzø almost wanted to laugh, but then his throat became dry when he noticed the thick bandages wrapped around Stolas’ torso, peeking out from under the robe he was wearing. 

Ozzie had already told him some of what had happened. Apparently Moxxie’s fuckwad dad had heard about Striker’s job and figured he could finally get some money out of Ozzie in exchange for Stolas’ location. Blitzø was going to talk to M&M about it when he got back, already formulating plans on how they could beat the shit out of him and his henchmen, maybe with those dildos Crimson had set up in his house to make his son ‘comfortable’. Prick.

Ozzie had also mentioned that by the time he and Fizz showed up, using one of his crystals to portal there, Striker was standing over Stolas, smoking gun in his hand while Stolas was bleeding out under him. Blitzø was growling as he heard that information, fists clenched so hard that his palms started to bleed. He was going to kill that fucker. 

“How’re you feeling?” Blitzø finally asked, inching further into the room and towards Stolas, as if he was being pulled in by some invisible rope. Stolas always seemed to have some annoying gravitational pull.

“Like shit,” Stolas said with a raised brow, echoing Blitzø’s words as he set the towel down on the tray next to him. Now Blitzø did let out a laugh, although there was no real humor in it. Blitzø could hear Ozzie’s awkward shuffling behind him and turned to look, seeing Ozzie’s confused expression as he looked between the two of them. Fizz seemed to catch it as well, and extended his limbs, slinking over to Ozzie’s side and whispering something in his ear. Ozzie’s eyes widened and then he cleared this throat, crossing his arms and putting on a serious expression.

“I’m guessing Fizzie explained how you ended up here,” Ozzie said, looking at Stolas. Stolas nodded. 

“A bit, but some things are still unclear to me." Blitzø noticed the scratch in his voice, like even his vocal cords were injured. “I remember Striker shooting me,” Stolas continued. “And he seemed pretty confident that it’d kill me, so,” he threaded his fingers together in his lap, looking past Blitzø at Ozzie and Fizz. “How am I alive? I shouldn’t be.” Blitzø hated the way he said that, as if he was resigned to dying. It was pissing him off. But he was curious, too, so he turned to face Ozzie and Fizz, keeping his mouth shut for now.

“We considered taking you to the hospital,” Fizz began to explain, moving upwards to sit on Ozzie’s shoulder. “But honestly, we didn’t think you’d make it if we took you there.”

“I’m not a doctor,” Ozzie added, uncrossing his arms, “but I’ve learned a thing or two about the bodily functions of many different kinds of creatures, and knew I had the right tools –”

“He is the aftercare expert,” Fizz added, waggling his eyebrows in such a way that made Blitzø want to throw up. Ozzie laughed, running a finger under Fizz’s chin that had Fizz kicking his feet. Blitzø looked back at Stolas, who met his gaze. He made a gagging motion, rolling his eyes, and Stolas hid a small smile behind his hand. Then Stolas’ smile quickly dropped, looking conflicted, as if he realized what he was doing. Blitzø felt a stab of disappointment. 

“Besides, it was clear that you were losing a lot of blood, and given that you’re a Goetia, well,” Ozzie continued, seeming like he was choosing his words carefully, “you needed special blood.”

“Whose blood did you use?” Stolas asked, titling his head in curiosity. “I doubt my family was lining up at your door to keep me alive.”

“Mine,” Ozzie said with a shrug. Blitzø’s jaw dropped. He glanced over to see Stolas’ eyes widen.

“Sire,” Stolas said. “You shouldn’t –” 

“It wasn’t even that much,” Ozzie said with a wave of his hand, although Blitzø was having a hard time believing that. 

“I helped with the bandages!” Fizz offered, bouncing a little on Ozzie’s shoulder. Ozzie smiled, nuzzling his nose against Fizz’s.

“You did a great job, baby.”

“It was a lot like tying someone up,” Fizz said suggestively, lowering his voice although Blitzø and Stolas could definitely hear him. “Gave me a few ideas.” Ozzie laughed again.

“You’re distracting me,” Ozzie chided, running a hand up Fizz’s thigh. Fizz grinned, hand now on Ozzie’s cheek.

“Hey!” Blitzø finally yelled, fed up. “You guys can make bedroom eyes and screw each other stupid after you finish explaining what the fuck happened.” Fizz stuck his tongue out and Blitzø flipped him off in response, putting a hand on his hip. Ozzie blushed, but didn’t look remorseful. Blitzø turned to give Stolas a ‘can you believe them’ look, hoping to get another smile out of him, but Blitzø’s smirk quickly fell when he saw Stolas’ heavy breathing, his face flushed as he clutched his bandaged chest. 

“Stolas?” Blitzø quickly moved to his bedside, looking him over. Stolas had thrown the blanket off of him, knocking the tray off the bed as he doubled over in pain. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

“I –” Stolas tried to say, chest heaving and eyes looking glassy. Blitzø reached out his hand, then hesitated, curling his hand into a fist and setting it down on the bed. Did Stolas even want him here? He never asked. He began to feel self-conscious, familiar insecurities gnawing in his gut. Then Stolas finally met his gaze, eyes wide and scared. He looked like he was burning up. His breathing was erratic. Did he have a fever?

“It hurts –” Stolas managed to say, voice small. Blitzø’s eyes widened. He didn’t know what to do. He turned back to look at Ozzie and Fizz, but they looked just as surprised as he was. “Blitzø –” At the sound of his name, Blitzø climbed onto the bed and put his hands on Stolas’ shoulders, gentle but firm. 

“Where does it hurt?” Blitzø asked, tone serious. Just as he thought, Stolas was burning up. Blitzø could feel the heat radiating off of Stolas and into his own palms. He tried not to freak out. 

“H-here,” Stolas said, placing his fingertips on his chest, over his heart, his other hand grasping at the blanket he’d tossed aside. He was shaking. 

“Your chest? Where you –?” Blitzø didn’t want to say the words ‘got shot’ out loud. Stolas nodded.

“I feel –” Stolas said, still trembling. “Can you –?” he hesitated, and Blitzø thought he saw the beginning of tears in Stolas' eyes. 

“What can I do? Stols, please –” 

“Can you hold me?” Stolas finally asked. Then he winced. “No, no, I do not know why I - you don’t have to –” He began to pull away, trying to move out of reach of Blitzø’s hands. On instinct, like some child grasping for his favorite toy, Blitzø moved forward and wrapped his arms around Stolas, burying his face in the crook of his neck. He could feel Stolas’ heartbeat against his chest, quick yet weaker than usual.

“Like this?” Blitzø asked, voice muffled. He felt Stolas nod against him.

“I’m sorry –” Stolas began to say, voice strained, but Blitzø shook his head.

“It’s okay,” Blitzø said. “I - I want to do this.” He paused. “You know, if it helps you feel better. Can’t have you dying in the King of Lust’s bed. Imagine the headlines.”

“Fuck you,” Stolas said, letting out a weary laugh. Blitzø was relieved that he already sounded better. It didn’t feel like he was burning up anymore, either. They stayed like that for a few lingering moments, Blitzø listening to Stolas’ breathing become slower and more regulated. 

Eventually, once it seemed like Stolas was better, Blitzø pulled away, fighting the temptation to stay like that for a while longer, but knowing that they had two sets of eyes on them. Self-consciousness was gnawing at Blitzø once more. If he held on for longer than was necessary, what would everyone think? Would Stolas have been okay with that? Or would it just make him uncomfortable? He caught Stolas’ gaze, then looked away. 

“You good?” Blitzø asked, voice quiet. Stolas nodded, although when Blitzø snuck a quick glance at his expression it looked conflicted. 

“Yes, um, thank you,” Stolas said, clearing his throat. Blitzø let him go, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He looked over at Ozzie, who seemed deep in thought.

“Any idea what the fuck that was?” Blitzø asked. “You made sure you’re clean before you gave him your blood, right –?” Fizz rolled his eyes.

“I may be ‘The Embodiment of Lust’, but I practice safe sex,” Ozzie sniffed, crossing his arms. Then he looked thoughtful, brow furrowed. “Although –”

“Oh, here we go,” Blitzø said, throwing his arms up. “What is it? Is he gonna get super horny or something because he has your blood in him?”

“Potentially,” Ozzie said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. 

“What? ” Stolas squawked, pulling up the blanket to cover his body.

“I don’t know for sure,” Ozzie admitted. “I’ve never done this before. But people have stolen various fluids from me in order to make those tacky love potions in the Pride ring.” The room was quiet for a long moment. 

Blitzø cleared his throat, sneaking a glance at Stolas. Stolas must’ve felt his gaze because he looked at him, narrowing his eyes.

“What?” 

“Well,” Blitzø said. “Do you? Uh, feel –?”

“No,” Stolas said. “I’m not feeling particularly horny right now, Blitzø.” Blitzø would be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t disappointed. 

“I mean, can’t blame a guy for asking, especially after what just happened -”

“There’s nothing wrong with being horny, Stolas,” Ozzie added. Fizz nodded.

“I don’t know what came over me,” Stolas said, stubbornly facing forward and not looking at any of them. “But it wasn’t that.”

“Well, if it is my blood, then any effects should wear off over time. But if it isn’t my blood...” Ozzie trailed off. 

“What else could it be?” Stolas asked, a slight tremble in his otherwise poised voice. Fizz straightened up from where he was still perched on Ozzie’s shoulder, seeming to remember something. 

“Oh yeah, that bullet,” Fizz said. Ozzie nodded.

“We were able to remove all of it,” Ozzie said, looking at Stolas, “but it’s…strange.”

“Strange?” Stolas asked.

“It’s just –” Ozzie tried to explain. “I sensed something off about it, something familiar, but I don’t know yet.” Blitzø watched Stolas put a hand on his forehead, as if he was just hit with a headache.

“I do remember that cowboy saying something about it –” Stolas mumbled, closing his eyes as he thought. After a moment he let out a frustrated exhale, saying nothing more.

“I plan to look into it,” Ozzie assured him. “And I’ll let you know the moment I figure it out.” Stolas dropped his hand, looking back at Ozzie.

“You have already done so much –”

“Let him do it,” Blitzø interrupted. Stolas looked at him in surprise. “Come on, Stols, what if it’s bad?” He hadn’t meant to let his nickname for Stolas slip out, now for a second time, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about all of this, and it was hard trying to pretend to be casual and unbothered. Blitzø did just throw his arms around Stolas like some kind of desperate harlot, just because Stolas had asked him nicely. 

“Hm. Fine,” Stolas said, relenting. Blitzø relaxed slightly. He gave Stolas a nod.

“I’ll keep an eye on you in the meantime,” he found himself adding, and Stolas opened his mouth in surprise, looking like he was about to argue.

“That’s a good idea,” Ozzie said.

“It is very unnecessary –” Stolas began, shaking his head. Blitzø tasted those first notes of rejection, bitter and familiar on his tongue, but he fought the urge to take back what he said. 

“What if that happens again?” Blitzø pushed. “It seems like I can help, so,” he shrugged. “Why risk it, right?” Just thinking about that panicked, pained look on Stolas’ face filled Blitzø with an icy dread. He didn’t even want to imagine what Stolas looked like right before Striker shot him. Blitzø should’ve been there. He should’ve known. He wished he didn't care about any of this, but fuck, he did. He slid off the bed, clenching his fists in frustration. “And if Striker has the balls to try that shit again, I’ll be waiting with a gun to shove into his dirty, whore-ass mouth. Maybe two.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Fizz said, extending out his legs and moving to stand next to Ozzie, hand on his hip. “You’re welcome to stay here, right Ozz?” he asked, looking up at him. Ozzie nodded. 

“That is very kind,” Stolas said, “but I should get back to Via.” He turned to look at Blitzø. “Are you quite sure –?”

“I’m sure,” Blitzø said. He noticed the slight twitch of Stolas’ beak, a tired, barely-there smile. 

“Thank you,” Stolas said. “Let us leave now, then. Via may be worried, and truthfully, I am anxious to see that she is okay for myself.” Stolas pushed the covers away from him, and Blitzø held out a hand. Stolas looked down at it in surprise, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, slid his hand into Blitzø’s, using Blitzø’s support to get out of bed and onto his feet. 

“I can make us a portal,” Blitzø said, gently rubbing his crystal.

“Ooo, I see you’re putting my crystal to good use,” Ozzie said, moving to look over Blitzø’s shoulder as the portal to the main hall of Stolas’ palace opened in front of them. “Stolas was so adorable when he scheduled this whole meeting just to ask me to –”

“Y-yes, I remember!” Stolas said, cutting him off with a nervous laugh. Ozzie chuckled.

“Oops, I think I almost said too much there,” he said, giving Blitzø a wink. Blitzø blinked back at him in confusion. 

“You just love being a messy bitch, don’tcha, babe?” Fizz teased. Ozzie poked him in the side, causing Fizz to laugh. Fizz had always been ticklish. 

“Thank you for all of your help, both of you,” Stolas said, looking between Ozzie and Fizz. “I did nothing to deserve it. I will find some way to repay you.” Ozzie waved him off.

“What are we, angels? You don’t always need to deserve a good thing,” he said. Blitzø snuck a glance at Stolas’ expression. There was a mix of guilt and sadness there, but it also looked like Stolas appreciated Ozzie’s words. Blitzø furrowed his brow, wondering if they were words he should make an effort to remember as well. 

“After you,” Stolas said to Blitzø, giving him a bow. Blitzø scoffed, suddenly feeling nervous as he stepped through the portal and into Stolas’ palace, a place he thought he’d never be allowed in again. Something about this felt like a second chance. One that, for whatever reason, he really didn’t want to fuck up.

It was a new kind of wanting, the kind that scared him.

Chapter Text

Stolas sighed in relief when he saw Via appear at the top of the staircase, seemingly unharmed.

“Dad!” she yelled, running down the stairs and quickly throwing her arms around him. Stolas winced but quickly tried to mask the pain from the sudden contact, hugging Via back.

“Take it easy there, sweetie,” Blitzø said gently. He was standing behind them, closer to the door to the main hall. The portal had already closed behind them.

“Oh,” Via said, pulling away. Stolas watched her eyes widen when she saw the large bandage wrapped around his chest. She let go of him, taking a step back. “Sorry –” Stolas quickly moved forward and wrapped her up in a hug, a gentler one this time.

“It is quite alright, princess. It’s good to see that you are safe.” He could feel Via relax, and it made him relax further as well, that irritating heat under his skin becoming less pronounced. 

“I’ll, uh, leave you two to catch up,” Blitzø said. Stolas could hear the awkwardness in his voice. Was he already regretting coming here? Stolas had been surprised that Blitzø would offer to watch over him in the first place. It’s not as if Stolas meant anything to him, and the Asmodean crystal was his to keep, so what did he have to gain? “Where’s your butler?” Blitzø added. “I wanted to talk to him about putting some extra security around the place.” Stolas turned to look at Blitzø, still holding Via. 

“He’s on vacation.” 

“He gets vacation time?” Blitzø asked, looking skeptical. Stolas cleared his throat nervously, letting go of Via and holding his arms against his chest, feeling suddenly exposed. Heat started to crawl back in, although he didn’t know how much of that was his own current shame, rather than whatever the fuck else was happening to him.

“He never used to,” Stolas confessed. “My father didn’t believe that members of the staff should get vacation time. He’d say that no vacation could possibly be better than working in a Goetia’s estate.” Stolas let out a sigh. “Like a fool, I never thought to question it until recently.” He shrugged, still holding his arms to his chest. “Besides, when I considered what I put them through while managing this ridiculous divorce, it was only right to give them all time off.”

“Wait, you sent them all on vacation?” Blitzø asked, looking dumbfounded. Stolas found himself puffing his chest in agitation.

“I suppose even a pompous asshole such as myself can try to be considerate from time to time,” he replied, failing to leave the pettiness out of his voice. He watched as Blitzø quickly shook his head.

“No, I didn’t mean -” Blitzø began, looking almost apologetic. Stolas titled his head in curiosity, watching as Blitzø exhaled, putting his hands on his hips and looking around the hall. “That means we need to be even more careful. I need to booby trap the shit out of this place. Some fucker could just sneak in and -” 

“Who? What’s happening?” Via asked, looking up at Stolas. Stolas found himself looking at Blitzø, who looked at him as well as they tried to figure out what to say. 

“I’ll go and get some supplies,” Blitzø offered, “while you two chat.” Stolas nodded. Blitzø gave him a wink, then furrowed his brow as he seemed to realize what he did. He smiled sheepishly, took a few steps backwards, and then ran to the nearest window, throwing it open and jumping out of it. Before he left, however, he poked his head in the now open window. “Via, text me if there’s an emergency.” He gave Stolas a pointed look. “Including anything related to what happened at Ozzie and Fizz’s place. I’ll come right back.” Stolas’ throat felt dry all of a sudden, remembering the way Blitzø had held him after Stolas practically begged him to, and the embarrassingly instant relief it had provided.

“Fine,” Stolas said simply, trying to sound nonchalant. Blitzø closed the window, locked it, and was gone. 

“Why did he leave through the window? The door is right there,” Via muttered, looking at the large, ornate door. Stolas couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Blitzø always had his own way of doing things, that was for sure. “Tell me what happened, Dad,” Via pressed, wide eyes on him once more. Stolas put a hand on her shoulder. 

“First, have you heard from your mother recently, or from a fellow calling himself Striker?” Via furrowed her brow in confusion, shaking her head.

“No? Is this Striker person the reason you’re injured? How did you even get injured -?”

“I will try my best to explain.” Stolas assured her. Then he hesitated. “Just know that everything will be okay. You will be okay, Octavia, I promise.” She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then she frowned, crossing her arms.

“Fine.” 

“So a cowboy assassin kidnapped you, bound you in blessed rope to restrict your powers, and then shot you,” Via summarized, swirling the now cooled tea in her mug with a small, golden spoon. They were sitting next to each other at the kitchen table, Via having suggested that she make them tea. Stolas had changed out of the robe he was wearing, making a note to return it to Asmodeus as soon as he got the chance, and into an oversized, burgundy t-shirt and shorts. It felt out of character, but he honestly couldn’t be bothered to put on anything less informal.

“Essentially, yes,” Stolas said. He took a sip of his own tea. It had also cooled, but right now he preferred it that way. The heat had been slowly rising in his chest. It was uncomfortable and oppressive, making him feel itchy and on the edge of overwhelmed. He had managed to keep his composure for this long, but it was becoming more difficult. He knew Blitzø had said to reach out to him, and given what happened at Asmodeus and Fizzarolli’s place, Stolas thought it likely that Blitzø could help this feeling go away, for reasons he did not quite understand, but his own stubbornness prevented him from asking Via to message him. Maybe he could just ignore it long enough and it would go away? Maybe he could simply get used to the feeling? Stolas thought that it was worth a shot, if it allowed him to avoid requesting anything more from Blitzø.

“But,” Via said, furrowing her brow. “Why?” Stolas sighed, setting down his mug. Now that was a harder question to answer. 

“It is only natural that someone of my station has a few enemies,” Stolas said vaguely, straightening his posture. Via gave him an unconvinced look. 

“So did they want your body or your money this time?” Via asked, tone saturated with sarcasm. 

“I believe it was money, this time,” he answered. Then he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Although, that sexy cowboy did seem to enjoy tying me up and getting on top of me -"

"Stop!" Via said, dropping her spoon to cover her ears. "Forget I asked." Stolas tried not to laugh. She was just so adorable when she got embarrassed. He watched as she put her hands in her lap. “Which enemy was it, exactly?” Via pressed on. “The only enemy of yours I personally know of is –” it was clear that Via was trying to make another dry joke, but she must’ve noticed something change in Stolas’ expression, because her eyes widened in realization. “Mum did this?” Stolas waved a hand, trying to be casual as heat flared and began to spread out from his chest through the rest of his body. 

“This isn’t the first time your mother has tried to kill me, Via. It’s like a hobby for her, like how my plants are for me.” He was trying to lighten the mood, to make this sound less serious than it was, but he could quickly tell from Via's shocked expression that that backfired. 

“Isn’t the first time?” Via asked. She leaned back into the cushioned bench, crossing her arms and shaking her head in disbelief. “You two have serious problems.” Stolas sighed once more.

“Yes, we do.” Stolas thought back to the first time he’d been kidnapped. While he was tied to the train tracks in that abandoned mine shaft, hanging upside down, he learned that Stella had hired Striker to kidnap, torture, and eventually kill him. Then she suddenly decided to call it off, most likely because she realized, or rather, her brother must have explained to her, that him being dead would in no way benefit her. Of course that unstable witch would do something so idiotic. Being subject to such half-brained plans offended Stolas more than her being so determined to have him killed.

“What pissed her off enough that she hired someone to kill you?” Via asked, pulling Stolas away from his thoughts. “Again, apparently.” 

“Octavia –” Stolas began, fidgeting nervously with his mug. “As much as I – well, you know my feelings about your mother, but I do not wish to tarnish your relationship with her –”

“I’ll decide how I feel about her myself, not because you made me feel any way about her,” Via said. “I’m almost 18, Dad. I’m not a little kid anymore.” Stolas smiled sadly.

“You’re right.” He exhaled. “I suppose I was going to tell you this today anyway.” He let go of his mug and turned to face Via, reaching his hands out to her. Via gave him a skeptical look, but then reached out her hands as well, holding Stolas’. He gave them a gentle squeeze, feeling more at ease. “I went to speak with some lawyers today.” Via raised a brow, waiting for him to continue. “I had been alerted that someone had attempted to change my will in my name, effectively taking away major assets promised to you, and giving them to, well, someone else.”

“And by ‘someone else’, you mean Mum,” Via said, her expression guarded. Stolas gave Via’s hands another squeeze.

“Unfortunately, yes, or it was your uncle with your mother’s support, but it doesn’t matter because I took care of it.” Stolas assured her. He paused, finding himself smiling. “I must admit, I quite enjoyed reading through all of the documents that my lawyers gave me and identifying the mistakes and lexical weaknesses. I think that they wanted to hire me by the end of it.” He laughed. It really had been such a good day until he was kidnapped, beat up in a warehouse, and shot.

“And by documents, you mean your will, the thing that tells the rest of us what to do after you die,” Via clarified. Stolas cleared his throat, looking sheepish.

“Hm, yes, that’s the one.”

“And then Mum hired someone to kill you because she found out that you changed it back and was mad?” Via asked. 

“I doubt she got word of my meeting at that point,” Stolas answered with a shrug. “I assume that she thought she’d gotten away with it, and wanted to make sure that I died before I was notified about the change and fixed it.”

“So she wanted to kill you and make sure that everything didn’t go to me,” Via said, looking away from him, feathers falling in her eyes. 

“Princess –”

“I don’t care about having your stuff, or the house, or whatever,” Via interrupted. “She could’ve just asked me.”

“I know,” Stolas said, tone gentle. “Please know that I don’t believe your mother did this to take anything away from you, but rather to spite my wishes.” Via shook her head.

“If she cared about my feelings at all, she wouldn’t have done any of this.” She looked up, meeting Stolas’ sad gaze. Stolas felt a slight tremble in her hands as he held them. “What if you actually died and I was left here alone? I don’t want you to die –” she started to sound panicked, and Stolas quickly scooted to sit closer to her, still holding her hands.

“Breathe, my dear,” Stolas whispered. “I’m here. Clearly, I am very difficult to kill.” He paused. “But even if, one day, I do –” Via suddenly stood up, letting go of Stolas’ hands.

“You always say that!” Via said, glaring down at him. “Ever since I was a kid, and even earlier today, you always promise that I’ll be okay even after you’re gone, but,” she gripped the sides of her beanie, letting out a frustrated noise, “I hate that promise!”

“Via -?”

“I wish you cared more about whether you lived or died,” Via confessed, voice quiet. “Even if it’s just for my sake, because everything would be shit for me if you died. You’re the only person who cares about me.” Stolas reached out to her, but she took a step back.

“Via, I’m –”

“Forget it,” Via said, hugging her arms to her chest. “I just –” she shook her head. “I need some space right now.”

“Via –”

“I’m fine!” Via said, already rushing out of the kitchen. Stolas considered whether he should go after her, hesitating where he was, but then he heard a door slam, most likely the one to Via’s room. 

Stolas hung his head. The long, white tabletop gleamed from of lack of use, so pristine that he could see his own reflection staring sadly back at him. He tried to remember the last time they shared a proper meal together. It had been a while, and Stolas felt a pang of guilt at the realization. Maybe his loneliness was his own fault. Maybe he was the problem. If he’d been able to be someone that Stella didn’t hate so much, then none of this would’ve happened. If he’d just been more lovable. But Stolas wasn’t the kind of person who deserved to be loved. 

He moved to stand, wondering if he should go to Via, even though she asked for space. Every instinct told him to avoid the problem entirely, to wait it out until Via decided to leave her room and they could pretend like nothing happened. But what did that ever accomplish? Then he thought about what happened when he finally summoned the courage to tell Blitzø about his feelings, to confront what was bothering him rather than try to push past it. He thought about what happened after finally demanding the divorce that he so desperately wanted. When he did manage to face a problem head on, it hurt, both emotionally and physically. 

And yet, when it came to Via, his little starfire, any hurt was worth it. He steeled himself, taking a step forward, but then a disorienting wave of pain washed over him without warning. He stumbled, falling to his knees. 

That horrible, burning heat returned with a fury, spreading like wildfire through his veins, churning in every part of his body as if tendrils of flame were trying to push themselves out of his skin and into the open air. Stolas let out a small cry of pain, moving to hug himself as if the act of holding himself would counteract the feeling of being ripped apart. It didn’t help, but he was so overwhelmed with the heat and pain that he couldn’t think clearly. 

Blitzø. He was supposed to reach out to Blitzø. But he didn’t have a phone, and Via was locked away in her room, probably blasting music into her headphones by now. He was absolutely fucked. He fell into a fetal position, vision getting hazy, although the cool kitchen tiles provided some minor relief. He wished that he told Via that he did care if he died. He wished he could explain that he did want to fight, but that it was so terribly hard when you felt like you were fighting alone. Selfishly, he wished that there was just one person to fight by his side, to help him when he felt his weakest. He wished that there was someone to tell him that everything would be okay. 

“Thanks for the help, Moxxie,” Blitzø said, looking through the scope of the sniper rifle he just attached to the balcony leading to Stolas’ bedroom. He'd changed into a simple, white button-up shirt and his usual pair of black slacks. When he swung by the office to grab Moxxie, Loona had pointed out that he still had blood all over him from that fight with the costumed perverts. “Where’d you even get this thing? I can see into your place from here –”

“WHAT?” Moxxie pushed Blitzø out of the way, sending him over the balcony.

“Shit!” Blitzø scrambled to grip one of the balusters so he didn’t fall. He doubted there’d be a cake or whatever-the-fuck other dessert to break his fall this time. He watched as Moxxie looked through the scope. Not even a second later he let out a noise of frustration, moving away from the rifle while Blitzø laughed. 

“I can’t believe you fell for that. Fucking chump.”

“Very funny, sir,” Moxxie replied, rolling his eyes. “And after all I did to help you and your boyfriend.” Blitzø’s smile faded. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he corrected, still holding onto the baluster and avoiding Moxxie’s gaze. He scoffed. “A prince and an imp assassin? Get fucking real, Moxxie. I explained this all before - it was a transactional fucking. And notice how I said was?” Moxxie put his hands on his hips, looking down at him.

“What is he to you then? We all saw how freaked out you were when we portaled back from the living world.” Blitzø shrugged in response, or at least as well as he could shrug from where he was hanging. Moxxie let out an exasperated sigh, moving to pull him back onto the balcony. “You don’t have to be shy about it. Millie and I think you two look adorable together, even when you crashed our anniversary dinner so that you could be a voyeuristic –”

“That was just a coincidence,” Blitzø said, brushing off his button-up. Moxxie gave him a smug smile, crossing his arms. 

“So it was a date, then.”

“No,” Blitzø said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s - it’s not like that, Moxxie, Christ -”

“Then why’re you doing all of this?” Moxxie asked, looking genuinely curious. He gestured to the crystal on Blitzø’s arm. “It’s not like you need that book from him anymore. So if you don’t like him, then –”

“I didn’t say I –” Blitzø began. Then he groaned and dropped his hand from his face, moving to grip the balcony railing. “Fuck, Moxxie, why’re you interrogating me about my love life -" Blitzø paused, "my sex life -" he corrected, "all of a sudden? I’m your boss, if you forgot, not some bitch who likes playing 20 fucking questions -”

“Yeah, yeah,” Moxxie said, moving to stand next to him. “Maybe I’m just a concerned employee. What’re we gonna do about our job requests while you’re busy protecting a prince?” Blitzø shrugged.

“You guys can handle it. Didn’t Millie become an Internet sensation when you infiltrated that camp? The one with the drug-pushing bitch boy? Besides, this is temporary. I’m only sticking around until things settle down. Just don’t start fucking in front of the human press again, or, if you do, message me first so I can watch.” Moxxie gave Blitzø a disgusted look. Then he sighed.

“Fine, but Loona’s just gonna sit around and do nothing, and you know she doesn’t respect me.” Blitzø laughed.

“Yeah, you’re fucking right about that.” Moxxie frowned. 

“I guess we can manage without you for the time being. But if that dickhead Striker does show up, you better call us, sir,” Moxxie said. “Mills and I want another chance to kick those pointy teeth in.”

“You’ve got a deal,” Blitzø said, holding out his hand. Moxxie grinned, shaking it. Then he looked back at the large, shiny rifle, his expression wary.

“Are you sure we didn’t go overboard? This place is basically an armory at this point. And probably a death trap.” Moxxie paused, looking thoughtful. “Does his highness get mail?” 

“Shit, I have no idea,” Blitzø said. “It’s probably fine. If a mailman or whoever gets too close, then it’s their own fucking fault.” Blitzø checked his phone. Still no messages from Via. Something was making him feel uneasy, although he couldn’t quite place it. Did he forget to secure a part of the house? Did he have enough guns hidden away? Striker always managed to be one step ahead of him. Slippery bitch. He couldn’t believe that Fizz and Ozzie let him escape. Of course helping Stolas was the priority, but was it really that hard to snap Striker’s neck on the way over to him? But then, who was Blitzø to judge? He let Striker get away twice now, and this time, he wasn’t even there - Blitzø suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you okay?” Moxxie asked. Blitzø watched as Moxxie's eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to track every shift in Blitzø’s expression. He wondered what Moxxie saw. 

“What? Yes, obviously,” Blitzø said, brushing his hand off. “Just thinking through everything we set up.”

“Hm,” Moxxie said. Then he shrugged. “Seems like my work here is done, so I’m heading back to I.M.P. You left us with a shit-ton of paperwork, you know. Don’t think I didn’t notice the mess you left on my desk. You couldn’t even stack them?” 

“Don’t do any fun ones without me,” Blitzø said, moving to readjust the sniper rifle. He wanted to make sure that it was positioned at the best angle. 

“I think we have different definitions of fun, sir." Moxxie hopped on top of the balcony railing, looking down. "If I jump down here, I should be fine, right?”

“Yeah, I put the flamethrowers around here though, so make sure you land exactly there,” Blitzø said, pointing at a very specific section of the stone floor. Moxxie didn’t look thrilled. Then he turned to face Blitzø. 

“Seriously though, let us know if you need anything. Based on what you told us, what happened to his highness seemed…intense,” Moxxie said gently. “I mean, Millie and I saw what Striker did to him last time -” Blitzø clenched his jaw.

“Yeah,” he managed to say. “I’ll let you know if shit hits the fan.” Moxxie gave him a nod. Then Blitzø watched as he jumped down. Moxxie let out a relieved sigh once he reached the ground, probably because he didn’t immediately get doused in flames. 

“Oh crumbs!” Moxxie yelled, quickly ducking as three arrows flew over his head, nearly missing him. 

“Shit, yeah, I forgot about the arrows! Watch out for those, too!” Blitzø called down to him.

“Would’ve been nice to know literally five seconds ago!” Moxxie called back. “I told you this place is a death trap now!” Blitzø watched him run off, dodging an arrow or three along the way. Once he was out of sight, Blitzø exhaled, looking out at the city. The sun was setting; it’d be dark soon. He checked his phone again, still no text. Were they still talking? Should he stay out of the way? Blitzø let go of the balcony railing, looking back at the doors to Stolas’ bedroom. Looking through the panes of glass that depicted half of a sun and half of a moon, a design choice that had Stolas written all over it, Blitzø could tell that the room was empty and dark inside.

“Fuck it,” Blitzø said, opening the doors and entering Stolas’ room, slinking across to get to the door leading to the hallway. He should let them know about the traps and weapons he set up, just in case. Wouldn’t want them setting something off by accident. 

He walked down the hallway lined with wiggling, carnivorous plants, wondering where they would’ve gone. He reached the top of the staircase, overlooking the main hall. It felt quiet and deserted here, too. It was such a ridiculously large place. He shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling small under the high ceilings. He vaguely remembered this place looking even more massive when he was a kid, like it would swallow him whole. Did Stolas ever feel the same way about this place? Blitzø shook his head - how could he? He was probably used to it, growing up belonging in this type of space, surrounding by the fanciest, most expensive shit, unlike Blitzø.

“Hey!” Blitzø decided to call out, moving past the main hall and wandering through hallways and large, empty rooms. “Anyone here? We need to talk about some flamethrowers.” He stopped when he heard a strange noise, like there was some kind of wounded animal nearby. He furrowed his brow. “The fuck?” A wrongness twisted in his gut, making him feel unsettled. He quickened his pace, hand hovering over his holster as he moved towards the noise. He entered what looked like the kitchen. 

“Hello?” Blitzø called out, looking around. His eyes fell on a feathered heap on the floor. “Stolas?” he called out, rushing over to kneel next to him. Stolas was whimpering in pain, curled up into a tight ball. “What the -? What happened? Where’s Via?” Blitzø looked around, trying not to panic. Stolas wasn’t responding to him, and his face was hidden under all of his lanky-ass limbs. What Blitzø could see was the erratic rise and fall of Stolas’ chest, the shaking of his arms. It was happening again. But why? How long had Stolas been like this for? And why the fuck was he alone?

“Shit, okay,” Blitzø said, trying to think. Right. He put a hand on Stolas’ back, feeling Stolas flinch at the contact. Blitzø pulled away, but then he clenched his jaw, putting a hand on Stolas’ back once more. He began to smooth out his feathers in what was hopefully a comforting gesture. “Hey, it’s okay,” Blitzø said, continuing to rub Stolas’ back and ignoring how awkward he felt. “It’s okay.” Blitzø remembered the nights he tried to comfort Loona when she first moved into his apartment. She had a horrible time sleeping the first month, and would wake up from nightmares that she refused to talk about. Even though she’d never admit it, this type of thing used to help. 

“Stolas,” Blitzø said quietly, moving to run his fingertips through the feathers on Stolas’ head. Blitzø could never get over how soft they were. The product Stolas used must be expensive as tits. Blitzø watched as Stolas began to relax under his fingers, his breathing slowing. Blitzø carefully grabbed Stolas’ hand with his free one, rubbing his thumb over it as he continued to kneel over him. “Hey, I need you to tell me you’re okay.” He waited a long moment, watching Stolas carefully in case things seemed to get worse. But it appeared as if, somehow, Blitzø was helping. 

“I -” Stolas managed to say, voice muffled. He was still curled into a ball.

“Yeah?” Blitzø asked, looking at Stolas intently. Stolas shook his head, letting go of Blitzø’s hand.

“I’m so embarrassed,” Stolas said, a pathetic note in his voice that caused Blitzø to let out a surprised laugh. Stolas curled tighter around himself, hugging his knees to his chest while he let out a groan, but Blitzø suspected from mortification rather than pain.

“Christ on a stick, Stolas,” Blitzø said, moving to sit. “You scared the shit outta me.” Stolas shifted, revealing one half of his face so that two wide, red eyes were peeking up at Blitzø, glowing like rubies. Blitzø very successfully did not think about how endearing he looked.

“Sorry,” Stolas said, voice small. Blitzø shook his head.

“Don’t apologize. But what the fuck happened?” Stolas finally moved to sit up, still hugging his knees to his chest. Blitzø watched the collar of Stolas’ shirt slip off one of his shoulders. He tried, less successfully, to ignore how sexy that was. It was definitely not the time. Stolas exhaled, resting his chin on his knees.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Something is horribly wrong with me.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Blitzø assured him. “There’s just some, weird, fucked-up thing happening to you.” Stolas turned his face to look at him, his cheek squished adorably into his knee and brow raised. 

“Oh? You’ve pointed out quite a few things wrong with me in the past. Changed your mind?” Blitzø scoffed.

“I still think you’re a petty bitch,” he shot back. “Not changing my mind about that one.” 

“I would think you a liar if you did,” Stolas replied with a smirk. Blitzø found himself smiling back. The kitchen was cast in a dark red glow, the light flooding through the elaborate windows above the kitchen table giving Stolas a fiery halo, a sight that was both beautiful and terrifying. Stolas seemed to notice something change in Blitzø’s expression, because he titled his head in curiosity. “What?” Blitzø shook his head, moving to stand. 

“Let’s get you to bed. You should get some rest,” Blitzø said, offering his hand. Stolas accepted it, moving to his feet. 

“I do not want to,” Stolas said, brushing himself off. “All I’ve been doing is lying down,” he added, gesturing to the floor. Blitzø raised a brow.

“That,” Blitzø said, pointing to the floor, “was not resting.” Stolas shrugged. Then a thought seemed to occur to him.

“I want to show you something,” he said. Blitzø looked up at him in confusion.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go retrieve the grimoire,” Stolas said, eyes shining with excitement. “Technically only a Goetia is allowed to see what I’m going to show you, but honestly I can’t find a fuck to give. Besides,” he smiled at Blitzø, still bathed in that red glow. “I’ve broken the rules for you before, happily.” Blitzø felt bashful all of a sudden. He realized that they were still holding hands. 

“Whatever, sure,” Blitzø said. “As long as you rest after.”

“Whatever, sure,” Stolas echoed, and Blitzø rolled his eyes, biting back a smile as Stolas led him upstairs.

“Oh look!” Stolas said eagerly, pointing out into the vast expanse of space in front of them. They were sitting on the surface of a dark gray rock, or an ‘asteroid’, according to Stolas, surrounded by glittering stars. Blitzø could feel the warmth of Stolas’ side pressed against his own. He didn’t know when they started sitting this close together, but Blitzø didn’t feel the need to point it out.

“Uh, what am I supposed to be looking at?” Blitzø asked, squinting his eyes as he searched the darkness. He suddenly felt gentle fingertips on his chin.

“This way,” Stolas whispered, moving Blitzø’s face upwards slightly. Blitzø felt a pleasant shiver at the contact. “Do you see those two stars? One is a pretty golden-red color, and the other, dimmer one, is blue.” 

“Yeah, now I see them,” Blitzø said, glancing over at Stolas, who was smiling at the sky. Stolas let go of Blitzø’s chin, causing Blitzø to feel a strange sense of disappointment. He looked back at the gold and blue stars, waiting for Stolas to say more.

“That’s Albireo A and Albireo B,” Stolas explained, voice still quiet, almost wistful. “Together they are the second brightest star in the constellation Cygnus, the Swan. Aren’t they beautiful?” Blitzø leaned back on his hands. 

“You’re talking about ‘em like they're exes you haven’t gotten over,” Blitzø observed. “Or your first threesome?” 

“Quit teasing me,” Stolas chided, bumping Blitzø’s shoulder. Blitzø shot him a grin. “I suppose I’ve always been drawn to them, ever since I was a mere owlet and read about them in one of my books.”

“What about 'em?” Blitzø asked, looking at the two stars. 

“Hmm?” Blitzø felt Stolas’ gaze on him for a lingering moment, before Stolas went back to looking at Albireo. “Well, together they make one of the most beautiful double stars in the heavens. Without the help of a telescope, most humans can’t see it for what it is. They don’t have this kind of view,” he explained, reaching out his long arms as if to frame the piece of sky they were looking at. “That’s not what I like the most about Albireo, though,” he confessed, dropping his hands back in his lap. “You see, although those two stars look like they are right next to each other, they are, in fact, lightyears apart.”

“A what now?” Blitzø asked. Stolas smiled.

“They’re a very far distance from each other,” Stolas explained. “And they travel on completely separate paths, gravitationally unbound. This means that they do not make a binary star, but an optical double.”

“So they’re not really a pair,” Blitzø said slowly, trying to make sense of what he was just told. “They only look like one. It’s all a trick.” Stolas nodded. “Stolas, that sounds fucking depressing.”

“Does it?” Stolas asked, “I suppose so.” Blitzø watched him play with the hem of his shirt, looking shy all of sudden. “When I was young, I remembered being fascinated by the fact that not everything was as it appeared. Just because other people made these two stars into a pair based on what they saw, did not mean that the two stars had to truly function as one. They could follow their own paths.” Blitzø looked at the two stars carefully. He had a feeling that he was catching onto what Stolas was trying to say. 

“I’d say, out of the two, you’re the bright, gold one,” Blitzø said. “That crazy bitch is definitely the small, dim, blue one. A lot less impressive.” Stolas looked at him in surprise. 

“Oh,” Stolas said. “Um –” His ruby eyes looked watery for a moment, but then he quickly swiped at them, looking back at the stars. “Thank you, Blitzø.” Blitzø cleared his throat, feeling awkward all of a sudden.

“Yeah, uh,” Blitzø began with a shrug. “Yeah.” He wondered what it was like to be forced to marry, to have sex with, to live with someone you hated and who hated you. Blitzø was fortunate enough that the partners who hated him started to hate him after they ended things, or, at least, things had already ended from Blitzø’s perspective. He wasn’t tied to any of them in any meaningful way. According to Stolas, Blitzø was ‘gravitationally unbound’. Made things a lot easier.

“Would you, um,” Stolas said quietly, breaking the silence and glancing at Blitzø before quickly looking back at the sky. “I mean, there’s another story about the stars I read once, if you would like to hear it, but if you would rather not, we can just sit here. Or if you’re tired we can –”

“Hit me,” Blitzø said. “Just show me where to look again. It’s impossible knowing what stars you’re pointing at. There’s a fuck-ton of 'em.” 

“Yes, of course, I can do that,” Stolas said. He reached his hand towards Blitzø’s face again, but this time he stopped himself, furrowing his brow. 

“I don’t bite,” Blitzø said, noticing his hesitation. Then he smirked. “Unless I’m asked to.” Stolas rolled his eyes, but Blitzø noticed the twitch of a poorly suppressed smile as Stolas held Blitzø’s chin once more, gently turning his face. He pointed at a particular star with his other hand.

“The star you are looking at right now is Vega, which is part of Lyra, the harp constellation.”

“I don’t see a fucking harp, but I’ll take your word for it,” Blitzø said. Stolas carefully turned Blitzø’s head in a new direction.

“This star is Altair, which is part of Aquila, the eagle constellation.”

“Another bird, huh, Stolas? Where’s the owl constellation?”

“There isn’t one,” Stolas said with a sigh. “Well, technically, there was an owl constellation known as Noctua, but the humans no longer recognize it as its own constellation, which was devastating to learn when I was young.” Blitzø found himself smiling, imagining tiny Stolas searching through piles of books trying to find an owl constellation, only to pout when he discovered that the only one no longer counted.

“So Vega and Altair,” Blitzø repeated, curious to know where he was going with this.

“Right,” Stolas said, dropping his hand from Blitzø’s chin. “There’s a myth from the human world, a place called Japan, I believe, about these two stars.”

“Is it depressing?” Blitzø asked, suspicious. Stolas looked guilty, as if he’d been caught. “C’mon, Stolas –”

“Here me out!” Stolas said. “It’s a good story, I promise.” 

“Fine,” Blitzø said. If he was being honest, he didn’t care how sad it was. Blitzø could listen to Stolas talk about anything, really, especially about the things Stolas was excited about. Sometimes Blitzø had his moments when he’d whine and complain that he was bored when people took too long to explain things to him, but it was more that he wasn’t used to people teaching him things, telling him stories. Especially since he lost his mom. Usually he’d end up complaining because he’d be reminded of her. He’d be reminded of what he lost, and how little he knew about the world. It’d fill him with bitterness, regret, and a lot of inferiority. But something about the sincere gleam in Stolas’ eyes when he shared the things he knew outshined those bad feelings deep within Blitzø’s heart, as disgustingly cheesy as that sounded. He wasn’t ready to think more deeply about what that might mean, about why Stolas was somehow an exception.

“Vega was a princess,” Stolas began, recapturing Blitzø’s attention, “an immortal one who lived in the heavens. She thought that she was destined to live an eternity alone, but then she saw Altair.”

“And Altair was a prince, I’m guessing,” Blitzø said. Stolas shook his head.

“He was a mortal herdsman,” Stolas corrected, and Blitzø raised a brow at that. “Vega came down from the heavens, wanting to meet Altair. They spent time together, and eventually, they fell desperately in love.”

“An immortal sky princess and some rando falling in love,” Blitzø said, shaking his head. “Seems unlikely.”

“Vega’s father thought so too, or rather, he was enraged by the very idea,” Stolas said. “His anger grew when he discovered that Vega had promised to bring Altair up to the heavens to join her.”

“So he didn’t let it happen,” Blitzø said. 

“You would think so, but he tricked the two of them instead,” Stolas explained, getting excited.

“Well shit. What’d he do?”

“He said that he would allow Altair to come to the heavens, where he and Vega would be stars together -” Blitzø had been watching Stolas, mesmerized by his smile, and the enthusiastic gestures he made as he talked. After hearing that detail, however, Blitzø furrowed his brow and looked back at the stars, finding Vega and Altair again. “Hmm, did you notice something?” Stolas asked in a sing-songy voice, resting a hand on Blitzø’s knee.

“Yeah, they’re far apart,” Blitzø said. “And there’s this cloudy stuff between them, right? What’s that about?”

“I’m so glad you asked,” Stolas said, looking back at the stars as well, his hand still on Blitzø’s knee. “Vega’s father put them in the sky in such a way that the Milky Way, also known as the Celestial River, would separate them.”

“Wow,” Blitzø said. “What an asshole.” Stolas nodded.

“But not all hope is lost,” he continued. “Another important part of this myth is that, each year, on the seventh night of the seventh moon, Altair travels across the Celestial River to be with his love for one night. And on the years when he doesn’t make it to her, Vega cries.”

“They’re definitely fucking all night, right?” Blitzø said more than asked. Stolas moved his hand away from Blitzø’s knee, crossing his arms.

“Maybe they just want to catch up,” Stolas argued, feigning innocence. “Or, I don’t know, simply spend time in each other’s embrace.” Blitzø scoffed. 

“Yeah, after a few rounds, maybe.”

“This is meant to be a romantic story, Blitzø,” Stolas said, exasperated.

“Screwing can be romantic if you want it to be,” Blitzø said with a shrug. 

“Really? I wouldn’t know,” Stolas said, tone thick with pettiness. Something about the way he said that felt like a blow to Blitzø’s pride. 

“Hey, I could’ve made things disgustingly romantic if I knew you wanted it,” Blitzø defended himself. “But you were clearly into the rough, kinky shit.” 

“What poetry,” Stolas said, rolling his eyes. “I may just swoon.” Blitzø crossed his arms too, looking ahead of him. He opened his mouth, a barbed reply on his lips, but then he felt the fight deflate out of him. He was tired of feeling angry, at least when it came to him and Stolas. He let out a sigh.

“There were times when I thought -” Blitzø began. This was probably a bad idea. He should just shut up here and protect his pride, but some impulse made him want to continue. “I dunno, when I considered whether we should, or that maybe I wanted, or we wanted –” Blitzø let out a frustrated noise, feeling Stolas’ gaze on him again, but softer this time. “I really thought you didn’t want any of that stuff, Stolas,” he finally said, meeting Stolas’ gaze. “I thought that wasn’t what this was, so –”

“Oh,” Stolas said. “I...I see.” He was quiet for a moment, long enough for Blitzø to wonder if he should get up and move to the other side of this slowly drifting rock, but then Stolas uncrossed his arms, moving to play with the hem of his shirt again. “I began to feel a similar way. I thought that what we were doing was what you wanted - or rather, what you felt most comfortable doing, so, I didn’t want to, I-” Stolas paused, letting out an exhale. “I have so little experience with intimacy. I didn’t want to fuck it all up, and selfishly I didn’t want it to end.” Stolas shifted, hugging his knees to his chest. “But then, eventually, I realized that I had already fucked it up by even proposing our deal.”

“Stolas -”

“You know I’m right,” Stolas said. “And I do apologize, Blitzø. Sincerely. Even having you here now, protecting me, having you be near me, feels like I’ve just ensnared you in a new way -”

“No,” Blitzø said, cutting him off. This conversation was making him feel jittery, as if his flight-or-fight instincts were moments away from kicking in. “It’s-it's not like that. I’m doing this because I want to.”

“But why would you want to?” Stolas asked honestly, turning his face to look at him, ruby eyes looking into Blitzø's soul. “After everything I did, the things I said -”

“Maybe I care about whether you live or die, idiot!” Blitzø blurted out. “Ever consider that? You almost died, Stolas, and I wasn’t there to protect you, again -” Stolas’ eyes widened, and Blitzø’s eyes widened as well, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth. What he almost did say, but managed to stop himself, was, ‘Maybe I care about you.’ He bit his lip, putting his head in his hands. “Shit,” Blitzø said, curling his hands into fists. He was teetering on the razor’s edge of a truth he didn’t want to face right now. 

“You shouldn’t care,” Stolas said quietly. “And you have no reason to protect me. I don’t expect either of those things from you.” Blitzø removed his hands from his face, looking at Stolas in surprise. His surprise quickly turned into a glare.

“Too fucking bad, Stolas,” he said. “Look, I wouldn’t be here right now if I didn’t wanna be. So get that through your thick, bird skull and accept it.” 

“Then what does that make us? What are we to each other?” Stolas pressed. “If you’re here because you want to be, because you want to protect me, does that mean - after everything, could we be -?” Stolas paused. Blitzø waited for him to finish his question, feeling a tempest of fear and hope begin to swirl in his chest. “Is there a possibility of us being friends?” Stolas finally asked. Blitzø flinched at the word ‘friends’. That wasn’t what he was expecting. He found himself feeling disappointed, but instead of investigating that feeling further, he found himself shrugging in response.

“We got along well enough when we were kids, right?” Blitzø offered. “I think friends can be in the cards for us.” Stolas seemed to consider that. Then he sighed, shaking his head.

“I don’t know, Blitzø -” Stolas began again. Blitzø rolled his eyes. 

“You’re so fucking stubborn -” 

“It’s just,” Stolas tried to explain. “It’s clear by now that, for whatever annoying reason, physical contact helps me feel less like -” Stolas paused, “less like I’m being set on fire from the inside, for lack of a better phrase.” Blitzø felt something constrict in his chest. He knew a lot about the damage fire could do. “Is it really fair for me to continue to ask this of you?” Stolas gestured to the way their sides were pressed together. Blitzø shrugged again.

“Friends touch each other,” he offered. He watched Stolas blush.

“Then, you are proposing that we will be friends who touch each other, but do not, you know, partake in other, um, activities?”

“Don’t fuck each other, you mean?” Blitzø asked with a raised brow. Stolas scoffed, his blush deepening.

“Yes, that is what I was implying,” Stolas said. Then he looked more serious. “But you have to promise me that if you ever want to stop this, if you change your mind, you will not feel any obligation to stay. I will figure something out.”

“Stolas -”

“I cannot have you stay by my side because you feel like you have to, Blitzø. I could not live with myself.”

“Fine,” Blitzø said. “I promise I’ll only do what I wanna do.” Stolas nodded. Then he held out his hand.

“It’s a deal, then, at least until whatever ‘weird’ thing is happening to me is resolved.” 

“Another deal, huh? You don’t wanna to write up some kind of contract this time?” Blitzø teased, slipping his hand into Stolas’.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Stolas said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Something about Stolas’ expression had Blitzø flustered for a moment, but then he quickly shook Stolas’ hand, choosing to ignore it. Friends. Moving forward they’d be friends. Easy enough.

“So the seventh night of the seventh moon is when that guy visits the princess, yeah?” Blitzø found himself asking, letting go of Stolas’ hand and looking back at the stars. “When’s that supposed to be?” 

“Ooo, good question,” Stolas said, looking back at the stars as well. His ruby eyes became thoughtful, brow furrowed in concentration. “If I am remembering correctly, the phase of the moon tonight is -” he stopped suddenly, letting out some kind of choking sound. Blitzø looked at him in concern.

“Stolas?”

“Um, well,” Stolas said, clearing his throat. “Tonight is a full moon.” Blitzø’s eyes widened, and then he laughed, shaking his head. 

“No fucking way.”

“Of all the fucking nights,” Stolas agreed, beginning to laugh as well. Together their laughter filled the quiet, endless space surrounding them, an overdue acknowledgement of the absurdity of the situation they had found themselves in.

If someone had asked Blitzø a few months ago whether he could see himself being friends with this awkward, horny, bird prince, he probably would’ve laughed in that idiot’s face before shooting the creep. But now, it didn’t sound so bad. Under the watchful eyes of countless stars - stars that looked close but weren’t, stars that wished they existed closer but could never be - Blitzø found himself feeling grateful that he wasn’t one of those stars, and instead was here with someone who, in this moment, made Blitzø feel as if tragedy, betrayal, and distance were their own myths. Ones that, maybe, Blitzø could exist lightyears away from.

Chapter Text

Not again. With bleary eyes, Stolas stared up at his bedroom ceiling, feeling overheated and sluggish in a way that was quickly becoming familiar. He was just grateful that it hadn’t escalated into blinding pain. At least not yet. He furrowed his brow, trying to remember how he got to his bed anyway. If felt like only moments ago he was sitting on that asteroid with Blitzø. 

They ended up talking for hours. Blitzø had told him about the strange job he had in the living world, something about hot dogs and furry people. He also pointed to random stars in the sky and asked Stolas to tell him about them. It was a dream come true, spending time with a friend who chose to be there. Stolas found himself not wanting it to end. He remembered feeling the exhaustion from the day catching up to him, but he fought to keep his eyes open, even taking such measures as to pinch himself. 

“Stols,” Blitzø eventually said, voice gentle. Stolas found it quite soothing, and smiled at the nickname. “It’s time for that rest you agreed to.” 

“Hm? I don’t remember agreeing to that,” Stolas pouted, slowly blinking all four eyes back at him. Was his head getting heavier? Blitzø scoffed.

“C’mon, let’s go back.” Stolas shook his head.

“I am perfectly fine. I could stay awake for days -”

“Oh yeah?” Blitzø asked with a smirk. He gently moved Stolas so that he was laying on his side, head in Blitzø’s lap. Stolas put up no resistance, finding it harder to keep his eyes open. He didn’t even have the energy to pinch himself at this point. “Fine, then. Tell me about that star.” Stolas slowly turned his face, looking to where Blitzø was pointing. 

“That one?” Stolas asked, stifling a yawn. He began to feel fingers carding through his feathers. 

“Yeah, I want to know everything about that one.”

“I thought you’d give me a harder one,” Stolas said, feeling smug. He knew each star in the sky by heart. It was part of his job, after all. And this was a particularly interesting one. He could tell Blitzø about this star in his sleep. “That star is Rigel, the brightest star in the constellation Orion. It’s quite old.”

“How old?” Blitzø asked quietly, claws scraping gently across Stolas’ scalp. Stolas hummed happily, squishing his cheek into Blitzø’s leg. 

“About 8 million years.”

“No shit.”

“In a few million years it’ll reach the end of its life, becoming a supernova that’ll lead to the creation of a neutron star or a black hole.” Blitzø laughed.

“Millions of years of being a star only to become a hole.” Stolas rolled his eyes, moving to sit up and chide him for his dirty humor, but in the same moment Blitzø scratched the base of his neck, hitting a spot that made Stolas’ bones feel like jello. He settled his head back into Blitzø’s lap. “What’s the difference?” Blitzø asked. “Between a neutron star and a black hole.” His voice sounded somewhere far away. Stolas’ eyes were now closed.

“A neutron star is dense, but a black hole is infinitely more so. Its gravity is so immense that -” Stolas lost his train of thought for a moment. “That it’s a boundary where nothing can escape, not even light.”

“That’s pretty damn cool,” Blitzø said, lazily running a hand up and down Stolas’ arm, drawing circles with his fingertips. “Have you ever seen one before?” 

“Hm? Have I? Oh, yes, there was one time that I, I went…to…” That was the last thing Stolas remembered. 

He lifted himself up onto his elbows in bed, blushing at the memory. Blitzø was always so clever - Stolas shouldn’t be surprised that he got the best of him. At the thought of Blitzø, Stolas looked over at the other side of his bed, finding it empty. Early morning light was peeking through his balcony doors. He assumed that Blitzø must’ve brought them back through the portal and put him to bed, but then where did he go? Stolas lifted the covers away from him, about to swing his legs over the side of the bed to go look for Blitzø, when he saw that one of his ebony chairs had been moved to his bedside. His eyes widened when he saw Blitzø curled up on the red, velvet cushion of the chair, asleep. He was still wearing the same outfit from yesterday, white button-up slightly rumpled in a way that Stolas couldn’t help but find incredibly alluring. 

“Why -?” Stolas whispered, blinking down at him in confusion. He noticed that Blitzø’s hand was extended, resting on the bed near where Stolas had been sleeping. Stolas looked at his own hand. Had Blitzø been -? But why didn’t he -? Stolas shook his head, the heat in his chest becoming worse, more demanding of his attention. He reached out to Blitzø’s hand, then stopped. What should he do? Blitzø had told him that he wanted to help, that he was okay with this, but he wasn’t awake right now. Stolas didn’t feel as if it was right to engage in any sort of physical contact while Blitzø was asleep. He began to hug his arms to his chest, wondering what to do as the heat spread throughout his body like an animal escaping its cage once more. Then Blitzø let out a noise, his tail flicking out. Stolas watched as Blitzø’s extended hand closed into a fist, as if he was preparing to fight something off.

“Blitzø -?” Stolas whispered, leaning down from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. All four eyes were watchful, taking him in.

“No,” Blitzø said, features contorting. “No, please -” Stolas’ beak parted in surprise. He put a hand on Blitzø’s shoulder.

“Blitzø -”

“Don’t go. Please,” Blitzø begged. 

“Blitzø, you’re having a nightmare -” Stolas began, trying to gently shake him awake. 

“I’m sorry! Mom -” Blitzø’s called out, eyes suddenly blowing wide. His gaze landed on Stolas, unfocused, and then he swatted Stolas’ hand away, moving to climb to the top of the chair, which immediately tipped over onto the floor. Blitzø landed hard, but scrambled to lift himself up on all fours, like a cat ready to pounce. “Blitzø -” Stolas began, quickly getting out of bed to sit by Blitzø’s side on the floor. He watched as Blitzø looked around the room with panicked eyes, teeth bared and tail flicking in agitation. 

“It’s okay,” Stolas said. “Blitzø, you’re okay.” It occurred to him that their roles had been reversed, Blitzø telling him these same words when Stolas had been fighting against the heat spreading throughout his body in the kitchen.

“Huh? Where -?” Blitzø asked, slowly coming out of whatever nightmare he'd been having. He finally met Stolas’ gaze. “Stolas?” Stolas tried to give him a comforting smile.

“Yes,” Stolas replied. “I think you were having a bad dream.”

“Oh,” Blitzø said, looking at the chair laying on its side. Stolas watched as he moved to sit on the floor, putting a hand on his forehead. “Christ on a stick.”

“Are you alright?” Stolas asked. Blitzø exhaled, dropping his hand. 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Blitzø said. He looked at Stolas once more. “Did I wake you up?” Stolas opened his mouth to reply, wanting to ask Blitzø what his nightmare was about before letting him change the subject, but he shook his head instead. He knew Blitzø well enough to know that he wouldn’t give him a straight answer, at least not right away, and Stolas was afraid of pushing him, of fucking up this current peace between them.

“I woke up on my own, actually,” Stolas answered. Then he paused, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. “Were we, um, when you,” Stolas looked at the chair as well. “I am assuming you were holding my hand, yes? I think one of us must’ve let go while we slept, and when I woke up, I, well, I was beginning to feel that heat again -”

“Oh,” Blitzø said, understanding. He moved to put a hand on Stolas’ arm. Stolas was surprised by how casually he could do that, when from Stolas’ perspective, every touch between them felt like the most welcome electricity, and simultaneously the most soothing balm. It was a pleasantly overwhelming, confusing feeling. “Is it better now?” Stolas nodded. 

“You don’t have to sleep on a chair, you know,” he blurted out. He thought he could see Blitzø blush, although it was hard to tell in the early morning light. Blitzø rubbed the back of his neck.

“I dunno, I thought it’d be -”

“Friends can share a bed, can’t they?” Stolas asked. He honestly didn’t know. “Is it not a human ritual for friends to stay over at each other’s houses and have a - oh, what do they call it? A ‘sleepover’?” Blitzø scoffed.

“I guess so.” Stolas nodded once, then scooped Blitzø up in his arms, moving to stand.

“It is settled, then,” Stolas said, walking back over to the bed. He carefully placed Blitzø down on the bed, then moved to lay down next to him. “You will not be sleeping in a chair.” He shook his head. “The very idea -”

“Hey, I’m tryna be polite here,” Blitzø said, crossing his arms and looking up at the ceiling. “Set boundaries, or whatever.”

“Hm, that is important,” Stolas agreed. “Let us decide now, then. I am perfectly fine with us sharing a bed if you are. And if you are not, which you are more than allowed to be, then I will happily figure out some kind of arrangement where you can be comfortable.”

“This is fine,” Blitzø said, but something in his expression caused Stolas to raise a brow. 

“Are you sure? It is okay if you’re not.” Stolas considered the two of them laying in his bed like this, like they would do during the full moon. In the past, Blitzø was only ever in Stolas’ bed because he had to be, and they were doing a lot more than laying down like this, so what if -? Stolas eyes widened. He moved to sit up, shaking his head. “What was I thinking, of course this is too much. I will prepare one of the spare rooms, and then if I need your help I will just -” Blitzø quickly sat up, grabbing Stolas’ hands.

“I appreciate that,” Blitzø said, “but it’s really fine. If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me.” 

“Are you sure -?” Blitzø rolled his eyes, although there was a smile on his face.

“I get where you’re coming from here, Stolas, but you really need to cool the fucking breaks on asking if everything’s okay all the time. You sound like a shitty record.” Blitzø paused, looking at their hands. “If that feeling comes back, I want you to grab my hand, hold onto me, whatever you need to do, okay?” Stolas felt his face heat up. 

“You say it so casually,” he couldn’t help but mutter. Blitzø raised a brow.

“After all the different ways we’ve fucked each other, this gets you all embarrassed like some school-girl prude? Did you forget the time you put fucking envelopes all over yourself -?” 

“I -” Stolas tried to argue, but Blitzø had a point. “Hm, fine. As long as I have your permission.”

“Permission granted,” Blitzø said with a devilish smirk, one that made Stolas' heart skip a beat. Then Blitzø yawned. “Now let’s get some more sleep. I’m exhausted as shit.” He put his head back down on one of Stolas’ pillows, stretching his limbs before moving to lay on his side, still facing Stolas. Stolas’ gaze dragged along the length of Blitzø’s body, memories of them in this bed rushing to the surface. Blitzø’s button-up shirt had ridden up, exposing a strip of toned stomach. He wondered how Blitzø would react if Stolas leaned down to drag his tongue - 

Stolas’ eyes widened when he realized where his thoughts had wandered. He needed to get a fucking grip. He quickly laid down next to Blitzø, turning his back to him and facing his balcony door, heat blazing in his cheeks. Stolas’ eyes widened further when he felt arms wrap around him, Blitzø pressed against his back.

“This okay?” Blitzø asked. Stolas felt Blitzø’s breath on his neck. He resisted the urge to shiver.

“Do they do this at sleepovers, too?” Stolas asked, voice small. Blitzø laughed, a tired, seductive quality to his voice. Was he doing this on purpose? 

“Probably sometimes,” he answered. “Depends on the friend you’re with.”

“Hm,” Stolas said, swallowing thickly. “Y-yes, this is okay with me.” He hesitated, carefully considering his next words. “And, um, for future reference, the same goes for me as well. Feel free to, um, engage in physical contact with me whenever you please.”

“You really found the least sexy way to say that,” Blitzø teased. Stolas laughed, easing some of the tension that was building within him. 

“Are friends supposed to say sexy things to each other?” he shot back, tone innocent. Blitzø held Stolas a little tighter, and Stolas found himself sliding his hands over Blitzø’s, holding them there. They’d never cuddled like this before. The fact that they could be this close with no sex involved was extremely new. As much as his mind kept wandering towards various explicit fantasies, Stolas quite enjoyed this. He felt…safe.

“Depends on the friend you’re with,” Blitzø repeated, sounding sleepy. Stolas smiled. 

“Okay, then,” he said, letting himself drift off to sleep once more. 

When Blitzø woke up, daylight pouring through Stolas’ glass balcony doors, he quickly realized that Stolas wasn’t in bed with him. 

“Stolas?” Blitzø asked, getting out of bed. He was still in his clothes from yesterday. He’d swung by his apartment and grabbed a bag of clothes earlier, right after changing into the outfit he was currently wearing, but completely forgot about it by the time he went to sleep. After he put Stolas to bed, the stubborn bitch finally out like a light, he'd considered whether he should just take his clothes off. He’d be more comfortable that way, and that is what he’d do every other time he stayed over. But he decided that’s probably not something a friend would do. 

He shook his head, thinking through everything that happened yesterday. What a fucking whirlwind. He went into his bag and changed into a set of comfortable clothes - a large, white shirt and black shorts, not extremely different from what Stolas had been wearing, except Blitzø’s outfit was better because his shirt had a rad horse on it. He left Stolas’ room, returning to the hallway lined with plants. Each one looked so well taken care of. He wondered how long they’d last without Stolas’ staff to look after them. 

“Stolas!” Blitzø called once more, getting a sense of déjà vu that made him begin to worry. Neither of them really understood what was happening to Stolas. Ozzie had promised to reach out when he knew something, but he hadn’t contacted them yet. Nothing from Fizz, either. From what Blitzø could understand, Stolas would start feeling this burning pain if he went without physical touch for too long. But how long was too long? And what would happen if too long happened, and no one was there to help him? Blitzø clenched his fists, moving faster down the hallway and reaching the top of the staircase. He wouldn’t let that happen. It was then that he heard a crash, followed by a colorful swear. It was coming from the kitchen. “Shit, not again,” Blitzø said, running towards the noise. He stopped in the doorway, eyes widening at what he saw.

“Oh, good morning, Blitzø,” Stolas said, standing by the stove sheepishly. There was broken bowl on the floor, and some kind of dark purple substance splattered on the fancy tiles.

“The fuck -?” Blitzø asked, carefully walking around the bowl and towards Stolas. “What’re you doing? Is that an apron?” Blitzø looked him over. He was still in that oversized red shirt and shorts, but now with a black apron tied around his small waist. It was giving off a domestic, sexy vibe that Blitzø wasn’t necessarily opposed to. He watched as Stolas waved his hand, the broken bowl and purple liquid floating in the air and moving towards the open trash can. Blitzø watched as he brought his hand down, the mess falling into the trash. Blitzø looked at the now spotless floor.

“Handy,” Blitzø said, impressed. “You pull that trick at parties? I bet the rich housewives would be all up your ass.”  

“The opportunity has never presented itself,” Stolas replied dryly. Then he sighed. “I thought you would be asleep for longer. You caught my attempt at making us all breakfast,” he explained. Blitzø watched as he played with the tie of his apron. “It’s been wildly unsuccessful so far, as you may have gathered.” Blitzø turned to look at the stove. A misshapen, brown lump lay in a frying pan. Blitzø quickly moved to turn the stove off. 

“What were you trying to make?” Blitzø asked, leaning his back against the counter’s edge and crossing his arms. 

“Pancakes?” Stolas asked more than stated. Blitzø glanced back at the unappetizing lump in the pan.

“Yeah, that looks like shit,” Blitzø said. “Like an actual shit. Let’s give it another try.” 

“Let’s?” Stolas repeated, blinking at him. “No! You sit down, I can find a way to manage -”

“You’ve never cooked before, have you,” Blitzø stated more than asked, brow raised. Stolas let out a nervous laugh. 

“I mean, there was one time where I - I think it counts if -” he stopped, letting out a sigh. “Am I that obvious?” Blitzø smiled, grabbing a mixing bowl from the counter. 

“Maybe I’m just extremely observant. Comes with being a professional assassin,” Blitzø said with a wink. Stolas laughed again, less nervous this time. 

“Then let’s see if you’re a professional chef, as well.” Stolas used his magic to grab new ingredients from the fridge and pantry. Blitzø watched as the ingredients floated around him before reaching out to grab a couple of eggs. He went to crack them over the bowl, but then he stopped.

“You eat eggs?” Blitzø asked, looking up at Stolas. “But you’re a -”

“Owls are raptors,” Stolas pointed out. Blitzø blinked at him.

“Rappers? What the fuck does that have to do with eggs? Gonna start rhyming at them? Tell them about that humpty dumpty fuck?” Stolas scoffed.

“Rap-tors, dear,” Stolas said, enunciating. “Meaning we’re birds of prey, so we eat a variety of little creatures. I’m also a demon, if you forgot. Eating eggs isn’t the worst thing I’ve done.”

“You got me there,” Blitzø said, cracking all three eggs at once. “Put the milk in.”

“Oh, yes, can do,” Stolas said, the remaining ingredients floating over to the counter. He grabbed the carton of milk and opened it, moving to stand next to Blitzø, who was still holding the bowl. Blitzø watched as Stolas looked down at it skeptically. “How much do I add?”

“Eh, I usually just guess,” Blitzø said. Stolas frowned.

“That’s not very scientific. Won’t they taste different each time?”

“Does it always have to taste the same?” Blitzø answered with a shrug. “Just have fun with it.”

“Hm, If you say so,” Stolas said, leaning over to slowly pour the milk into the bowl. He glanced up at Blitzø a few times as he poured, as if he was waiting for Blitzø to tell him to stop. 

“Having fun yet?” Blitzø asked with a grin. Stolas furrowed his brow, staring at the tiny stream of milk he was pouring into the bowl.

“I’m not sure,” he said seriously. A moment later he straightened up, moving the milk carton away from the bowl. “Did I do it right?”

“There’s no right or wrong in my kitchen,” Blitzø answered. “As long as we make something edible.” Stolas didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t argue. “Now we pour in the flour, sugar, and the rest of this shit in,” Blitzø instructed. He turned to grab some of the other containers Stolas brought to the counter, but then realized that they were just out of reach. He put a hand on his hip, still holding the bowl. “What dickhead built this high-ass counter?” 

“Oh! Here,” Stolas said. Soon a wide, golden step stool floated from across the other side of the room, coming to rest next to Blitzø’s feet. Blitzø looked down at it. “This is what what our chef uses.” Blitzø considered it.

“This feels degrading.” Stolas’ eyes widened at that response. Then Blitzø watched him frown. 

“I’m embarrassed to say that that never occurred to me,” Stolas said, looking remorseful. Blitzø watched as Stolas shook his head, hugging his arms to his chest. “I’m making you do most of the cooking. You should sit at the table. I was supposed to -” Blitzø stepped onto the step stool, looking at all of the ingredients and waving Stolas off.

“It’s no big deal. Should’ve crossed my mind that your lanky ass wouldn’t have an imp-sized kitchen.” Blitzø set the bowl with the batter down on the counter, picking up a small, maroon bottle. “What’s in this?” 

“Dried grasshoppers,” Stolas said. “Via and I love them.” Blitzø considered it, and then he shrugged, opening the bottle and shaking some of its contents into the bowl. He added the rest of the ingredients, then grabbed a spoon hanging from the wall, holding it out to Stolas. 

“Mix.” Stolas waved a finger and the spoon moved out of Blitzø’s hand and into the bowl, beginning to stir at a steady pace. Blitzø scoffed.

“Show off.” Stolas smirked. 

“What next, chef?” Stolas asked. Blitzø grabbed a new frying pan, one that didn’t have a burned up turd on it, and placed it on an empty burner. Then he grabbed the butter, cutting off a piece and plopping it into the pan. He turned the burner on, cranking it all the way up.

“Now we get to cooking,” Blitzø declared. “Pour some of that into the pan.” He pointed at the bowl, the spoon still mixing the batter on its own. Stolas used his magic to lift the spoon out of the bowl, the batter sliding off of it, and set the spoon aside on the counter. Then he grabbed the bowl, joining Blitzø at the stove. He carefully titled the bowl, letting some of the batter fall into the pan. It immediately started to bubble. “Good,” Blitzø said, putting a hand on Stolas’ arm to signal him to stop. Stolas set the bowl down on the counter. “Watch me do this one, and then you’ll do the next one,” Blitzø instructed, grabbing a spatula and watching the first pancake cook. This one was still a little lumpy looking, but already miles ahead of the one Stolas had tried to make on his own. Although, Blitzø did find the fact that Stolas tried to make breakfast on his own endearing. He’d never say that out loud, though. He wasn’t about to act like some soft bitch over a bad pancake.

“I quite enjoy getting to watch your skills in action, chef,” Stolas practically purred. In the same moment Blitzø felt arms wind around his torso from behind. He looked down at them in surprise. Stolas seemed to notice Blitzø’s reaction, tensing his arms.

“Sorry, is this -?” Stolas began to ask.

“I don’t mind,” Blitzø assured him. “How’re you feeling, anyway? When I woke up and you were gone, I was -”

“Worried?” Stolas teased, resting his chin on Blitzø’s shoulder. With Blitzø on the step stool, they were closer to the same height. Blitzø scoffed.

“I thought you decided to be an idiot again and I’d find you collapsed in another room,” Blitzø said, feeling Stolas’ warmth at his back. 

“I feel great, actually, certainly better than I’ve been feeling since I was kidnapped,” Stolas explained. “I don’t quite understand why, but when I left the bed this morning I felt more in control, like a battery that was finally able to charge fully.” Stolas grew quiet, still hugging Blitzø from behind. “I assume it is thanks to you.”

“Me?” Blitzø asked, distracted by Stolas’ hands on his stomach, his breath in his ear. 

“Having you hold me as we slept,” Stolas began, Blitzø feeling a heat rising in his cheeks. He gripped the spatula tighter. “I think it helped.”

“Y-yeah?” Blitzø asked, his throat dry all of a sudden. He didn’t know what possessed him to do that. He was just getting sick of Stolas acting so fucking awkward around him. He needed to set a precedent. And now he had Stolas wrapped around him from behind, whispering in his ear, some of his words obvious teases, others uncomfortably sincere. Blitzø began to question whether he knew what he’d gotten himself into. He didn’t find himself hating it, but hating it wasn’t the problem. Liking it too much was.

“I was starting to feel bad again,” Stolas confessed, nuzzling slightly into Blitzø’s neck. Blitzø took notice of how soft Stolas’ feathers were as they brushed past his jaw. “I considered whether I should go back upstairs and give up on this whole disastrous attempt, but then you appeared, my savior once again.”

“Heh, perfect timing, another thing only found in expert assassins,” Blitzø managed to say. Stolas let out a pretty laugh, one that made something swoop in Blitzø’s stomach.

“Found in professional chefs, too, I assume, although it seems as though neither of us are quite cut out for that title,” Stolas observed, and Blitzø looked down at the frying pan, finally noticing the burning smell emanating from it. 

“Shit!” He quickly flipped over the pancake, revealing a circular, but very blackened surface. “For fuck’s sake,” Blitzø said, lifting the pancake and moving it to the other frying pan, next to the lumpy, turd pancake that Stolas made.

“What a pair they make,” Stolas observed, sounding very amused. Now it was Blitzø’s turn to laugh.

“Shit and shittier,” he agreed.

“But we can try again, right?” Stolas asked. He let go of Blitzø, moving to turn the burner down. Then he looked back at him, flashing those pretty, ruby eyes. “Maybe a slower burn this time?” Blitzø shrugged.

“Not how I usually do it, but worth a shot.” He watched as Stolas magicked away the burnt remains on the frying pan they were using, and then carefully poured more of the batter into the pan. Once he was done he put his hands on his hips, looking proud.

“I didn’t realize that cooking could be so exciting,” he said. Blitzø scoffed.

“You’re just easily amused.” 

“By some things,” Stolas agreed. “But I do find myself having the most fun when I’m with you.”

“I don’t know if I’d say the last few times we’ve seen each other were fun, exactly,” Blitzø said, thinking back to the fight on the full moon, and then Verosika’s party. He watched Stolas’ smile fall and immediately regretted bringing that shit up. He was such a dumbass. Things were going so well -

“Even when it’s not fun,” Stolas said, looking thoughtful. “I end up learning something about myself, or the world, that I hadn’t considered before. I always enjoy learning, in the end, even when it’s difficult.” Blitzø’s eyes widened in surprise. Stolas had every right to hate him, to call Blitzø out on all the bullshit he pulled and the shitty way he responded to Stolas’ feelings, and yet Stolas wanted to make fucking pancakes with him. It made him feel even worse. Stolas kept apologizing to him, kept doing all these things to make up for his past, and what had Blitzø done to deserve it? Nothing. He just kept acting like a useless piece of shit, worse than the turd sitting in the frying pan next to him. Blitzø wasn’t worth all of this. 

“How disgustingly optimistic, Stolas,” Blitzø finally said with a sigh. “Sounds like something a fucking angel would say, probably.”

“Now, now, no need for insults,” Stolas replied. Blitzø looked down at the pancake that was cooking, choosing to ignore his spiraling thoughts for now. He’d look like such a dickhead if he burned another pancake after all the shit he gave Stolas.

“It’s time to flip it,” he decided a few moments later. Stolas moved to get a closer look as Blitzø used the spatula to flip the large pancake in one smooth, fluid motion. This one was a perfect, golden brown color. 

“Ooo!” Stolas said, clapping his hands together. Blitzø scoffed. So easily amused. 

“It smells good in here,” Via said, rubbing her eyes as she entered the kitchen. “But also like something was recently set on fire.”

“Both things are true!” Stolas said excitedly. “Look, Via, I’m learning how to make pancakes!” Via opened the cabinet, pulling out a mug.

“Wow, Dad,” she said, tone deadpan. Blitzø watched as she went to the fridge, grabbing what looked like a container of juice and pouring it into her mug. She took a sip, meeting Blitzø’s gaze. Her eyes narrowed. “So you’re staying here now?” 

“Uh,” Blitzø said, clearing his throat. He lifted the pancake off of the pan. This one was perfectly cooked.

“Here,” Stolas said, holding out a plate. Blitzø set it down. 

“Yeah, at least for a few days.” Blitzø explained. “Someone needs to watch over you two until this all blows over.”

“And when does this all ‘blow over’, exactly?” Via asked. “When Mum has a miraculous change of heart and decides not to have my dad killed? I thought you were an assassin, anyway, not a bodyguard. Or did my dad offer you even more money this time?”

“Octavia -” Stolas began, still holding the plate with their one, good pancake. 

“You’re asking the right questions,” Blitzø interrupted, and Via raised a brow at him. Stolas looked back at him in surprise. “I don’t have a good answer for the first one, though. With your dad’s condition right now -”

“Condition?” Via asked, looking at her father. The ice in her expression melted, revealing her worry.

“M-my injuries,” Stolas said, looking nervously between the two of them. “Under normal circumstances I can defend myself very well, but I am not quite back to my full capabilities yet, having been wounded by blessed weapons and all.” Now it was Blitzø’s turn to look at Stolas in surprise. So he hadn’t told Via about this strange pain he was getting. He wondered why. “I asked Blitzø to stay here, to protect us both while I recover.” That also wasn’t technically true. Blitzø had been the one to offer, and hadn’t really given him much of a choice.

“And I’m not doing this for money,” Blitzø felt the need to add for some reason. “I’m doing this as a favor for, uh, for getting to use this sick crystal free of charge,” he explained, lifting up his wrist for Via to see. 

“Oh,” Stolas said, and Blitzø glanced over to see the way Stolas blinked in confusion. Something about his expression made Blitzø feel immediately shitty.

“And, ya know, cuz we’re friends now, I guess,” Blitzø decided to add, rubbing the back of his neck. He could feel Stolas’ eyes on him now, but because he was a fucking coward he didn’t meet his gaze, choosing to look at the floor tiles instead.

“That might be worse,” Via said quietly, catching Blitzø by surprise. Then she sighed. “Whatever. I’m going -”

“Wait,” Stolas said, walking over to her. “We should talk about yesterday -”

“It’s fine,” Via said, holding up a hand. “I’m already over it.” She paused. “Sorry I yelled at you.”

“It’s okay, Via,” Stolas said. “I'm sorry as well. You have every right to be upset -”

“I’m not upset,” Via said. “I just - I was tired and worried about what happened - it’s fine.” Blitzø frowned. Having grown up with someone who treated ‘I’m fine’ like his own personal catchphrase, he knew when someone said those words and didn’t mean them.

“Really?” Stolas said. “How about you join us before going back upstairs? We could try flipping the pancakes together -”

“I’m still feeling tired,” Via said. “I was just grabbing food and heading back to my room.” Blitzø watched Stolas deflate a little, but then he quickly brightened his expression.

“Then at least try this before you go,” Stolas said, holding out the plate with the pancake. “It has a secret ingredient I know you’ll like.” Via looked down at it skeptically. Then she sighed, tearing off a piece and popping it in her mouth. She chewed. Blitzø watched as her eyes widened slightly. 

“Dried grasshoppers?” 

“Yes! You’ve always had such keen tastebuds, Via,” Stolas said, excited. “Is it good?” 

“It’s not bad,” she said, eating another, larger piece. Stolas was beaming. 

“Do you want another? We’re making more -” Via glanced at Blitzø before looking back at her father.

“One is enough for me,” she said, taking the plate. Stolas’ smile fell. “I’ll finish this in my room. Thanks.”

“Okay, princess,” Stolas said, voice gentle. “Let me know if you change your mind.” 

“Sure.” She turned to leave the kitchen, but then Blitzø remembered something. 

“Wait!” he called out. Via groaned, turning back to face them once again, waiting for him to continue but not looking thrilled about it. “At some point I need to give you both a rundown of all the traps and weapons and shit I set up around this place,” Blitzø said. “Only a dumbass could set off the traps inside the house right now, but if you leave the house you’ll need to be careful. Also, how good are you two at shooting guns?” Stolas and Via looked at him, brows raising in sync.

‘Like father, like daughter,’ Blitzø thought as he looked at the creepily identical, equally as unimpressed expressions on their faces. 

“Okay, nevermind,” Blitzø said, clearing his throat awkwardly. “But remind me to show you where I put the chainsaws later.”

“Chainsaws?” Via asked, brow still raised. “What, was there no budget for grenades?”

“Those are at the back of the house,” Blitzø assured her, gesturing with the spatula in his hand. Via scoffed.

“So I’m living in the middle of a war zone,” she muttered. “Nothing new, I suppose.” With that she left the kitchen, and Blitzø noticed the complicated expression on Stolas’ face as he watched her leave. 

“Stolas -” Blitzø began once they were alone, but then Stolas turned to Blitzø, putting on a smile that didn’t seem completely genuine. 

“Let’s make more,” Stolas said. “I need to try these for myself, especially after that positive review!” Blitzø frowned, wanting to ask more about what he missed yesterday, about why Stolas hadn’t told Via about his current condition, but he held himself back. It wasn’t his business, and he doubted Stolas wanted to talk to him about it. And yet something about Stolas’ expression was irritating him.

“Sure,” Blitzø decided to say, trying to shrug off the feeling. “If you’re good, maybe I’ll teach you my secret technique for flipping them.”

“Ooo, okay!” Stolas joined him back by the stove, looping their arms together. Blitzø wondered if Stolas was holding onto him because the pain came back, or because he was seeking comfort for a different kind of pain. Either way, Blitzø found himself being happy to offer it. 

“And now the client who asked me to kill the bitch is fuck-buddies with her in Hell,” Blitzø explained between chews. 

“Hoo hoo,” Stolas said, “talk about a plot twist.” He primly cut off a piece from the stack of pancakes balancing on the plate between them, popping it in his mouth. He smiled as he chewed. They were sitting on the cushioned bench at the kitchen table after managing to make a fair number of decent pancakes. The dried grasshoppers were definitely a nice touch, and after trying them Blitzø had said that they weren’t half-bad. He even taught Stolas how to flip the pancakes properly. 

Stolas thought back to Blitzø’s steady hand resting on his wrist as he held the spatula, guiding Stolas’ movements. He remembered the slow slide of Blitzø’s hand off his wrist once he got the hang of it, and the quiet praise he gave as he watched Stolas cook. The very memory of it caused Stolas’ cheeks to warm. Who knew that making breakfast could be so…sensual. Stolas shook his head, dropping his fork to the table. He stole a glance at Blitzø, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was too preoccupied with spearing the pancake at the top of the stack with his fork. Whether Blitzø noticed or not, however, Stolas knew that he shouldn’t be having these thoughts about a newly declared ‘friend’. Right? Even if he was a friend who used to fuck him, and very well, at that -

“Hey Stolas,” Blitzø said, biting into the pancake that was wobbling on his fork. Stolas was startled out of his thoughts, turning to look at him. “What’re you planning on doing today? I’m assuming you have princely duties to attend to, or whatever.”

“Actually, no,” Stolas said. It would probably be wise to follow up with his lawyers about his will, or to investigate a new area of the cosmos (although he’d already covered quite a lot of it), but he didn’t feel like doing either of those things today. Another ‘sick day’ wouldn’t hurt, right? There was, however, one important task that came to mind. “I plan to spend some time in my garden.”

“Oh, right, you have one of those,” Blitzø said, waving his fork in the air, half a pancake still attached. “How big is this fucking place, anyway?” Stolas shrugged. 

“Would you like a tour of it?” he asked. “You do not need to help with anything. You can just accompany me, if you’d like.”

“Uh, help you with what?” Blitzø asked. Stolas thought through what needed to be done. It had been a few days.

“Some of my plants need to be watered, and some fed,” Stolas began to list off. “There have also been some nasty weeds that have somehow infiltrated the -”

“Wait,” Blitzø said, swallowing the last of his pancake. “All your staff is on vacation, in case you forgot.” Stolas looked at him in confusion.

“What does that have to do with my plants?” he asked. Blitzø now looked confused as well.

“If I’m not taking care of these plants, and they’re not around to take care of these plants, then -” 

“I take care of them, Blitzø,” Stolas spelled it out for him. “I always have. Does that surprise you?” Blitzø leaned back on the cushioned bench.

“I vaguely remember you rambling on about plants before,” Blitzø said. “But I can’t exactly picture you getting, ya know,” he pointed his fork at Stolas, making a circular motion, “dirty.” Stolas considered his words.

“The dirtier the better,” he decided to tease, sliding his hand over Blitzø’s and leaning towards him. “I thought you already gathered as much when it comes to me, Blitzy.” He watched as Blitzø’s lips parted in surprise. 

“I - I, well, uh -” Blitzø said, looking flustered all of a sudden. Something about his reaction made Stolas feel smug, like he achieved some kind of small victory. He smiled as he waited for Blitzø to finish his sentence. “Oh, fuck you,” Blitzø said, quickly noticing Stolas’ expression. 

“What? I’m just talking about gardening,” he said innocently, moving to stand. “I’m not sure where your mind wandered.” He caught Blitzø rolling his eyes. Then Blitzø moved to stand as well, collecting the empty plates and utensils. He handed them over to Stolas, who looked down at them in confusion.

“Before I watch you get ‘dirty’,” Blitzø said, putting his hands on his hips. “I’m gonna watch you get these clean first, bitch.” Stolas laughed.

“Deal.”

Stolas took a deep breath in, smelling earth and sweetness. Mid-afternoon light shone through the large pergola that spanned the top of his garden, its frame delicately wrapped in vines. This place always provided him a sense of calm, helped him ease his anxious thoughts almost as effectively as his medication did. He walked over to one of his rose bushes, bending down to pull one of the violet flowers gently towards him. He inhaled, a smile forming on his lips as he took in its rich, floral scent. He glanced over at the nearby hemlock. It was blooming nicely, umbrella-shaped clusters of small, white flowers spreading in all directions, each extremely poisonous. Every part of the plant was poisonous, actually, from the seeds to the root to the stem and so on. Stolas had built up an immunity to it over time, however, partially out of curiosity and the other out of practicality. His efforts ended up paying off, given that Stella had tried to poison him with hemlock a few years ago. He remembered how furious she was when it had little effect. 

“Holy shit, how many plants do you even have in here?” Blitzø asked, a few steps behind him. Stolas turned to watch Blitzø as he looked around, mouth open in what resembled awe. 

“Truthfully, I’ve lost count,” Stolas said, letting go of the rose he was holding and straightening up. “I like to propagate a few times a year. Although Via’s told me that I may have gotten a bit carried away recently, and she may have a point.”

“Propa-what?” Blitzø asked, looking at one of the larger, carnivorous plants that was blinking back at him with glowing eyes.

“To grow more of them from the ones I have, essentially,” Stolas explained. He straightened his wide-brimmed, straw hat. He’d changed into a cropped, red shirt and loose-fitting overalls, his usual gardening attire. He waved his hand and used his magic to summon one of the nearby lawn chairs, dragging it forward to scoop Blitzø up. Blitzø’s eyes widened in surprise as he was seated, hands settling on the arms of the chair. “Now you enjoy the fresh air while I get to work.”

“You really don’t want me to help -?” Blitzø began to ask. Stolas shook his head, grabbing one of his watering cans that he kept lying around. This one had the blood of human sinners in it. His piranha plants loved it. 

“You sitting there looking handsome is plenty,” Stolas teased, giving him a wink. Then he walked over to his largest piranha plant. Its glowing eyes fell on him and it began to wiggle happily, lolling its long tongue. “Hello, darling,” Stolas said, pouring the watering can over its open mouth and watching as it eagerly lapped up the blood. Once it got its fill he moved onto the other piranha plants. He regretted not bringing actual meat this time - that was their favorite - but he hadn’t had the time to acquire more of it. 

“They seem to really like you,” Blitzø said, suddenly next to Stolas.

“Fuck!” Stolas said, surprised. He lifted the watering can away out of reflex, some of its contents sloshing out and onto the dirt. Stolas set down the watering can, letting out a nervous laugh. “You really don’t have to follow me around. It can get pretty boring.” Blitzø shrugged.

“Sitting around is more boring. Besides, what if you need to, ya know,” he added, gesturing between the two of them. “How’re you feeling?” Stolas considered the question. That burning sensation was beginning to itch under his skin, but it hadn’t gotten bad enough for him to take notice of it yet. He was getting used to the feeling, to some degree. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. It would be troublesome if he got to the point where he didn't register the pain until it incapacitated him again. He thought about the fire that blazed inside of him when he was alone on the kitchen floor. He really wanted to avoid feeling that pain again. There must be some way to cure him, so that Blitzø didn’t have to hang around him indefinitely. He knew that Asmodeus was looking into it, but maybe Stolas could find some kind of solution, even a temporary one, by using some of the plants in his own garden - “Hey,” Blitzø said, moving to hold Stolas’ hand and giving it a squeeze, pulling Stolas from his thoughts. “Where’d you go?” Stolas shook his head. 

“I was just thinking through all the plants I currently have,” Stolas answered. He picked the watering can back up and continued deeper into the garden, Blitzø still holding his hand and following along. He led them through rows of nightshade, some of which were currently flowering - five-point, purple stars swaying in the breeze - while others had plump, shiny black berries hanging in clusters. Stella had also tried to poison him using these, going so far as to trick the chef into making them into jam. While Stolas did get violently ill after breakfast, he’d already taken the time to build up an immunity to nightshade as well. He held back his laughter as he remembered the way his face had swelled in the beginning. He looked quite ridiculous, so ridiculous that his little starfire would erupt into a fit of giggles just by looking at his face. He let go of Blitzø’s hand so that he could gently pull off a cluster of those berries, putting them in the large, front pocket of his overalls as he moved along. Blitzø continued to look around as he followed.

The moon cacti were next. He had only just started growing these. There weren’t many of them, and they were tricky to take care of, but he adored the silly, colorful, round tops they had. 

“Ha, they look like dicks,” Blitzø said, pointing down at them. “Dicks with some kind of STDs.”

“They’re from the living world. They’re technically two cacti grafted together. The green base is meant to show off the colorful head -”

“Head!” Blitzø said, letting out another laugh. “I love these little guys.” Stolas smiled.

“They do not typically live very long. The two parts exist in a parasitic relationship, and if the two parts are incompatible, one or both parts will die quickly.” Stolas bent down, inspecting the row of cacti. Once he had carefully inspected each one, he hummed in satisfaction, moving to stand back up. “I have been trying to see how long I can extend their short lives. So far they have been coexisting quite wonderfully.” 

“Can I touch one?” Blitzø asked. Stolas considered the question.

“You can if you would like, but you should be careful - their spines can be quite sharp -” Stolas watched as Blitzø bent down, eyes wide and shining with curiosity. He reached out his pointer finger towards one of the cacti with a red head. 

“Ow! Fuck!” Blitzø said, falling backwards into the dirt. He started sucking on his finger.

“I told you to be careful -”

“Yeah, yeah,” Blitzø said, waving him off. Stolas offered his hand, and Blitzø accepted it, getting back on his feet. He removed his finger from his mouth, inspecting it.

“Are you alright? I should have bandages -” Stolas began, bending down to look at Blitzø’s finger. Thankfully the spine hadn't gotten stuck.

“Eh, it’s fine,” Blitzø said. “Just surprised me. Trust me, I’ve had way worse.” 

“I don’t love that, but alright,” Stolas said, furrowing his brow. They continued on, weaving through all sorts of plants until Stolas stopped. In front of them was a venus fly trap sitting in Stolas’ most ornate pot. It wasn’t the largest pot he possessed, but this one was made of porcelain and had the face of a white, red, and yellow painted owl. It had been a gift from Vassago, many years ago. This plant, which was a little larger than Blitzø, was surrounded by some of Stolas’ best rose bushes, long thorns gleaming menacingly where they caught the light. Stolas rummaged in the front pocket of his overalls, pulling out a treat made out of a variety of meats and insects. He moved closer, taking careful steps. “Hello, Bitey.”

“Bitey?” Blitzø said, now a step behind him. Stolas chuckled, resting a hand on Bitey’s green stalk, or rather, its petiole. Bitey nudged its large ‘head’ into Stolas’ arm. Its teeth were long and pink.

“I don’t typically have names for my plants,” Stolas explained. “But Bitey is the first plant I grew, many years ago. It’s a bit older than Via. I came across it during one of my trips to the living world. It was much smaller back then, barely a seedling, and I brought it back here.”

“How’d it get so big? Is it juicing?” Blitzø asked. Stolas considered the question. Then he laughed.

“In a way, I suppose. It has slowly absorbed some of the demonic energy from this world, becoming something unique.” He looked at it with pride, happy that it was able to flourish under his care.

“I’m surprised you didn’t come up with a fancier name, like, Archibald or Cleopatra."

“Via came up with it when she was small,” Stolas said, smiling at the memory. “I thought it was quite hilarious, and very accurate -” as if to prove Stolas’ point, Bitey impatiently chomped down on Stolas’ arm, the one holding the treat. This had happened many times before, so Stolas wasn’t all that phased by it, but then Bitey tugged and a sharp pain lanced up Stolas’ arm, reaching his shoulder where Striker had stabbed him and cracked bone with his boot. He let out a hiss of pain as Bitey kept pulling his arm left and right, as if it was shaking a chew toy. He bit his lip, trying unsuccessfully to free himself. He thought he could smell blood - was that his?

Oh fuck that,” Blitzø said, pulling out a gun and pointing it at Bitey. Stolas’ eyes widened, and he quickly stood between Bitey and Blitzø, holding out his free hand. 

“No! Please put the gun away, Blitzø, it’s okay.” 

“This dickhead weed is tryna rip your arm off,” Blitzø protested, although he dropped the gun so it wasn’t pointing at Stolas. “He’s hurting you.”

“It’s okay,” Stolas said, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. He turned to Bitey, putting his free hand under its chin and giving it a gentle scratch, trying to coax its mouth open. “Come on, darling. Time to let go so I can give you another treat.” Bitey gave his arm one more playful chomp and then let go. “Good boy,” Stolas said, pulling out another treat and throwing it in Bitey’s mouth. He exhaled in relief. Then he turned back to Blitzø, giving him a sheepish smile as he straightened out his hat. “Bitey must've been particularly hungry, today.” He saw Blitzø’s skeptical look, and then watched as his gaze shifted to his shoulder. 

“Dammit. You’re bleeding, Stolas,” Blitzø said, closing the distance between them and gently lifting Stolas' arm, inspecting his shoulder. Stolas could see blood seeping through the bandages there. He watched as Blitzø furrowed his brow. “Go sit in the chair back there. I’ll grab a towel -”

“It's perfectly alright,” Stolas said. He waved his hand and the blood disappeared. Because it was a wound originally created by a blessed weapon, however, he couldn’t heal it entirely. Thankfully the bleeding was already slowing, coagulating into an eventual scab. He should probably switch out his bandages soon, but now it was no longer an immediate concern. He still had many more plants to feed. Blitzø scoffed.

“You’re acting way too fucking casual about this,” he said. “Didn’t it hurt?” Stolas shrugged.

“This isn’t the first time, or the first plant, that’s bitten me. I mean, don’t you get hurt all the time? You just said that you’ve had way worse than a cactus spine to the finger.”

“I don’t get hurt all the time,” Blitzø corrected. “I’m good at my job, bitch, thank you very much. But when I do get hurt it’s because I’m an assassin and that’s my job. There’s no reason for you to get hurt in a fucking garden -” 

“Most of these plants are carnivorous, or poisonous, or have extremely sharp thorns, or some combination of all three,” Stolas said with a shrug. “So when it comes to this garden, specifically, it is quite expected.” He watched as Blitzø looked at him with a mix of confusion and possible frustration.

“Why would you choose those plants in the first place, Stolas? It’d be a lot less dangerous if you just grew fucking carrots or daisies or some shit. Why the ones that could hurt you?” Stolas walked over to the nearby rose bush, dragging a finger across one of the longer, shiny thorns. 

“I’ve always admired living things that know how to protect themselves,” Stolas confessed. “The world can be so unfairly cruel, and some are easy subjects to that cruelty, while others fight back and challenge it, thrive, even.” He pulled one of the roses from the bush, its petals a soft orange and pink, like a sunset. He held it out to Blitzø. “Kind of like you.” Blitzø carefully took it, avoiding its thorns. Stolas watched as he looked down at the rose in his hands, seeming to consider it. Then Blitzø scoffed.

“You think I’m like some kinda fucking flower?” he asked. Stolas smiled, moving to sit on a nearby empty pot that had been turned upside down. 

“I have lived a life of surrender,” Stolas tried to explain, threading his fingers together nervously. “People have told me who to be, and what to do, and I have very rarely fought for the things that I wanted. I have always been too scared to advocate for myself.” He worried at his lip. “I am afraid that I have passed that destructive behavior onto Octavia, by setting such a horrible example. I do not want her to be like me - to just allow bad things to happen to her, to shut herself away instead of communicating her needs.” He paused, reaching to grab Blitzø’s hands as that burning sensation began to creep up his spine, reminding him of the uncertain, vulnerable position that he was in. Blitzø set the rose on the ground, offering his hands without hesitation. “I want her to live more like you.” Blitzø blinked at him.

“Me?” Blitzø laughed. “A person who grew up in the circus, kills people for money, and lives in a shitty apartment? C’mon, Stolas -”

“I’m being serious, Blitzø. You go to such lengths for the people you care about, and you are never afraid to speak your mind. You welcome conflict and are strong enough to face such conflict with grin on your face. I -” Stolas paused, shaking his head. “I must admit, I am still trying to figure out who I am, even though I am old enough that I should know by now. And I cannot help but feel as if every moment I have spent with you has brought me closer to the person I want to be, a more authentic version of myself. You have made me want to try, Blitzø, when I had given up long ago. Things feel more - more possible when I am with you.”

“Stolas,” Blitzø began, releasing one of his hands to rub the back of his neck. “You’re putting me on a pedestal here -”

“I’m not,” Stolas assured him. “I know you can be immature, and angry, and rude, and impulsive, and -”

“Okay, okay, you didn’t have to come up with all that so quickly -” Blitzø said, letting out a nervous laugh. 

“But you can also be brave, ambitious, loyal, energetic, innovative -” Stolas listed off. “And so funny,” he added with a smile. “My point is, I want to exist in such a way that I no longer feel as if I must bottle everything up all of the time in order to be accepted, or tolerated. I want to accept the good and bad parts of myself,” he paused, glancing over at Bitey, who was now happily swaying in the sun after having been fed. “And I hope that the individuals most important to me will accept both the good and bad parts of me as well.” He let out a laugh, one tinged with sadness. “What a gift that is, to be unafraid to live like that.”

“Yeah,” Blitzø said, his voice quiet. Stolas watched him carefully. It seemed like he had something on his mind, and was a breath away from saying it, but any other response didn’t come. Stolas wondered if this was too much to confess all at once. He began to feel self-conscious. He’d never told anyone this before, about this fear that had been calcifying in his chest ever since he was small. He let go of Blitzø’s hands, quickly moving to stand.

“That was too much, wasn’t it,” Stolas said, turning away so Blitzø couldn’t see his face. “I apologize, I did not mean to overwhelm you with my -”

“That's your fucking problem,” Blitzø said, and Stolas’ eyes widened, although he didn’t turn around. “You wanna be messy? Then act messy, bitch! All you’ve been doing these past few days is caring about how other people feel! But what about you? So much shit has happened to you recently, and you’re not even angry about it!”

“I am angry about it!” Stolas argued, tensing his shoulders. Some of his plants began to snap their jaws, as if they could pick up on his agitation. 

“Could’ve fooled me! Your whore ex-wife hired someone to kill you multiple times now, and -”

“Wait,” Stolas said. It was then that he remembered what Via had said back in the kitchen, about how long they’d have to wait until Stella didn’t want Stolas killed anymore. Blitzø hadn’t batted an eye at that. “How do you know that it was my ex-wife who hired Striker?”

“Changing the fucking subject,” Blitzø said, shaking his head. “Fine, I’ll bite. I asked Millie to call her sister and find out if she remembered anything about Striker from when he was working on their ranch. Millie told me that her sister mentioned something about that cowboy bitch slinking away to answer these phone calls from some lady he kept calling ‘ma’am’, and that she assumed it was some secret, dommy-mommy side piece. Then she said something about how this ‘ma’am’ really liked to scream into the phone. I was able to piece it together from there.”

“And when was this?” Stolas asked. 

“I...started looking into it not long after you went to the hospital,” he confessed. Stolas’ eyes widened slightly in surprise. “I was gonna tell you, just in case you didn’t already know, but then all that shit went down between us, and I was so angry and confused that I didn’t, I thought -” Blitzø let out a frustrated noise.

“It doesn’t matter. I already knew,” Stolas said quietly, shaking his head. “Striker made it clear who he was working for both times that I was kidnapped.” He let out a tired laugh. “Probably because each time he thought I’d be dead soon enough.”

“Why haven’t you done anything about it?” Blitzø asked. “That bitch can’t just keep getting away with trying to assassinate you -”

“It’s complicated, Blitzø -” Stolas interrupted with a sigh.

“No, it’s not!” Blitzø pressed on. “Hell, I can help! It’d be easy to sneak into her place and -”

“I am not putting your life at risk,” Stolas said firmly, “and she is still Via’s mother. I can’t do that to her -”

“See! You’re only thinking about other people! You were the one who was almost killed, Stolas! At least be fucking angry about it instead of acting like some pathetic pushover! Saying that you wanna change and actually changing are two different things -”

“I know that!” Stolas said, hugging his arms to his chest. He still hadn’t turned to face him. “Fuck! I know, Blitzø! I never said I’d be good at it! And I am angry! I’m angry at myself for being stupid enough to get kidnapped by that sadistic cowboy twice. I’m angry that I was so helpless that people who barely even know me had to come save me again. I’m angry that I always say the wrong things to Octavia, and that she’d rather be in her room than do something as simple as make breakfast with me. I’m angry that I was forced into a marriage I didn’t want, with someone who tormented me and belittled me every day, and now wants me killed. I’m angry that the first person I ever had true feelings for didn’t believe me and treated my feelings like some kind of fucking joke, and even now hesitates to tell my own daughter that he’s my friend -” Stolas could feel the tears welling in his eyes now, ones he’d been trying so hard to suppress. He dropped to his knees, pressing his palms into his eyes, his throat burning. “I’m angry that I never learned how to feel things, because any kind of passionate emotion was ‘unbecoming of a Goetia’, and now I’m not even in control of my own body anymore. This pain is becoming something I’m growing used to when I don’t deserve it. I didn’t deserve to be hurt, and it hurt so much - it hurts so much - I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do -” He suddenly felt hands wrap around his wrists. He pulled his hands away from his face, looking up with watery eyes to see Blitzø standing in front of him. 

“There we go,” Blitzø said quietly, giving him a gentle smile. “Feel better?” Stolas blinked up at him.

“No!” Stolas said. “I feel fucking terrible!” Then he paused, giving himself the opportunity to inhale and exhale slowly. He shook his head. “Maybe...maybe a weight has been lifted off my chest. Some of it, at least,” he conceded. “I thought I’d feel better, though.”

“Welcome to the club,” Blitzø said. “Getting angry can be a real stress-reliever, but it can also make you feel like shit.” Stolas scoffed, then was surprised to feel Blitzø’s hand on his cheek, his thumb wiping away his tears. 

“That’s the messy bitch I know,” Blitzø said. “Eyeliner running and everything.”

“Fuck you,” Stolas said with a scoff, although Blitzø’s hand on his cheek felt nice. Stolas found himself leaning into it. 

“I’m good at being angry, and doing whatever the fuck I wanna do,” Blitzø admitted, and Stolas looked up at him in curiosity. “But you’re better at being honest when it counts. Some real shit has happened in both our lives, some of it outside our control, but at least you’re trying to be better. That’s something I’m learning from you. That we don’t have to be the same way forever.” 

“Wow, I’ve never heard you sound so earnest before,” Stolas observed. Blitzø grinned.

“Whaddya think?”

“It’s sexy,” Stolas blurted out. He caught the surprise flash across Blitzø’s face. Then his eyes darkened dangerously, making Stolas feel breathless as a tension suddenly hung in the air. “You - you said that friends could call each other sexy, remember?” he quickly added, giving Blitzø a way out if he wanted. 

“I said it depends on the friend,” Blitzø corrected, placing one hand on the side of Stolas’ neck, the other one still resting on his cheek. He moved closer, their faces now inches apart. Stolas kept looking up at him with wide eyes.

“And, um,” Stolas managed to say, failing to resist trying to steal glances at Blitzø’s lips, although he doubted that it went unnoticed. He was fully sitting at this point, legs folded under him. “W-what kind of friend am I?”

“What kind of friend do you wanna be?” Blitzø asked, moving so close that Stolas could feel his breath. Stolas swallowed thickly, fighting the desire to throw his arms around Blitzø and pin him to the ground. He’d never considered hooking up with anyone in his garden before. The idea thrilled him, especially because it was Blitzø in front of him, looking at him with a glint in his eyes that could be mistaken for desire. Stolas could feel the resolve he’d been building up crumbling as if it was nothing. 

“I - I think you already know,” Stolas said quietly, resting a hand on Blitzø’s hip. His lips were so close, and they were getting closer. All resistance gone, Stolas’ eyes fell closed, body turning into jello from something as simple as expectation.

“Fuck friendship,” Blitzø practically growled, voice low, “let’s -” 

Loud ringing and screaming suddenly filled the quiet garden. Stolas’ eyes flew open, watching in startled confusion as Blitzø rummaged into the pocket of his shorts.

“Christ on a stick,” Blitzø said, pulling out his phone, which Stolas quickly realized was the thing making that terrible sound. He watched as Blitzø checked the caller ID. “Oh, this better be fucking good -” Blitzø put the phone to his ear, taking a few steps away. “Millie, the office better be burning the fuck down right now -” he paused, putting a hand on his hip. “Tits, Mills, I know I told Moxxie to save the fun jobs, but it’s been like a day -” he stopped again. Then his eyes widened. Stolas titled his head in curiosity, wishing he could hear. “How many horses?” Blitzø asked, now looking excited. Then he glanced at Stolas and frowned. “Yeah, it's tempting, but I don’t think I can -”

“Say you’ll do it!” Stolas called out from where he was still sitting. Blitzø looked at him in surprise. 

“What? Hold on a sec, Mills, I’m with Stolas - no, we're not - I’m here to make sure Striker doesn’t -” Blitzø let out an exasperated noise. “You and Mox have gotten real fucking comfortable asking me about my personal life -”

“Tell her you’ll do the job,” Stolas pressed. “And that you’re bringing me and Octavia with you to your office.”

“Via, too?” Blitzø asked. Stolas nodded. Blitzø seemed to consider that. “Fine. Millie, it’s take-your-demon-prince-and-princess-to-work day tomorrow. You can tell me more about this job then. And tell Moxxie that that paperwork I left for him better be finished before I get there. Okay, bye Mills.” Blitzø hung up the phone, shaking his head as he shoved it back in his pocket. Then he looked at Stolas skeptically. 

“Why do you wanna go?”

“I think we could all use a change of scenery,” Stolas explained. “And maybe Via and Loona can have some time to bond. Via had only good things to say about your daughter on our way home, you know, after we went looking for her in the living world. And she rarely has only good things to say about someone.” 

“Loona should be spending more time with people around her age,” Blitzø agreed, tapping a finger to his chin.

“It’s settled, then. And I will accompany you on your job. You mentioned horses?”

“It could be dangerous -” Blitzø said, apprehensive. Stolas crossed his arms. 

“I may still be recovering, but I can more than handle myself at this point,” he assured him. “Furthermore, I refuse to be the reason you miss getting to see horses.” He watched Blitzø roll his eyes, although he caught the subtle curve of a suppressed smile on his lips. 

“Didn’t we just talk about you doing what you want?” Blitzø asked. Stolas moved to stand, brushing off his overalls and fixing his hat. 

“What I want is to see you with real horses,” he said. “You get so cute whenever horses are even mentioned, so I refuse to miss out on that.” Blitzø scoffed.

“I don’t get ‘cute’. I just…admire them. They’re fucking cool!” he said defensively, crossing his arms. Stolas smiled.

“They are cool,” he agreed. He wondered what Blitzø was about to say before they got interrupted, as well as what would’ve happened afterwards. He could feel a heat rising in his cheeks at the thought, one that he hoped Blitzø didn’t notice. He didn’t dare ask, however. It was an answer worth waiting for, one that he wanted to learn at the right time. And, honestly, as much as he was trying to change, the answer still scared him, because the possibility of it was filling his heart with a hope he’d worked so hard to get rid of. “I still have more plants to feed, so -” Blitzø nodded, picking up the watering can. 

“Lead the way, your highness,” he teased, shooting him a grin. 

“Please, don’t call me that,” Stolas said. He furrowed his brow thoughtfully, and then a smile formed on his lips. “I quite like this ‘Stols’ nickname I’ve been hearing from time to time.” He thought he saw the beginning of a blush in Blitzø’s cheeks.

“I’ll, uh, take that into consideration,” Blitzø said. Stolas watched as he went over to one of the piranha plants, holding up the watering can. “Open wide, bitch. Daddy’s here to feed ya.” The piranha plant opened its mouth, but before Blitzø could pour the blood in, it dragged its wet tongue along the length of Blitzø’s arm, causing Blitzø to shudder. He turned to Stolas, an alarmed expression on his face. “What the fuck does it mean if they lick you? Did it just poison me?” Stolas tried to hide his laugh behind his hand. 

“No, it just means that it likes you.” 

“Huh, I guess I lick the things that I like too,” Blitzø said with a shrug, before tipping the watering can into the plant’s open mouth. It wiggled happily. Stolas smiled, moving to join him. 

He never knew what to expect when he was with Blitzø, but Stolas meant what he said before - he always felt more like himself, or, at least, more like a version of himself that he wanted to be. It was like finally moving towards something after living a stationary, stagnant life, as if he had been confined to a pot that was too small for him, and only now was being given the space to let his roots spread, to let his leaves reach towards the sunlight. And now that he knew what that felt like, he didn't want to go back.

Chapter Text

“Are you taking fucking notes?” Blitzø asked, putting a hand on his hip as he watched a quill scribbling furiously on a floating pad of paper. Stolas looked up at him in surprise. They were standing at the bottom of the stairs that led to the front entrance of the palace. Stolas was wearing one of his usual, fancy outfits, specifically the one he wore when they were searching for Via in the living world - billowy sleeves, tight red vest, black pants that hid those long legs - 

Not that Blitzø paid much attention to whatever the fuck Stolas chose to wear. 

“There are a fair number of traps to keep track of,” Stolas replied, the quill still writing as he talked. “Are you quite sure we needed all of this -?”

“It’s like you’re expecting a battalion of angels to come down and attack my dad,” Via added, crossing her ams. Blitzø watched her glance over at her dad. “There isn’t, right?” Stolas put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a smile.

“No, darling. At least not that I’m aware of.” 

“I’m a professional, okay? And taking notes isn't a bad idea,” Blitzø decided. “I hate repeating myself. Read ‘em back to me.”

“Oh, okay,” Stolas said, grabbing his pad of paper out of the air and taking a closer look. He cleared his throat. “The flame throwers are located on the ground floor, below my bedroom balcony. That is also where the pressure plates that release poison arrows are. The bazookas are hidden behind some of my larger planterettes at the back of the house, and will go off if someone tries to climb over the wall by the pool.” Stolas let out a laugh. “I remember when you did that. Did you set these traps based on your own experiences?” 

“Maybe,” Blitzø said, lifting his chin defensively. “It’s easy as fuck to sneak into this place, Stolas. I’m shocked Striker never tried it before.”

“Hm, perhaps I have been a little too careless about security,” Stolas agreed. “But then, if I hadn’t been careless, who knows if we would’ve crossed paths for a second time.” Blitzø’s eyes widened at that. 

“That would be terrible,” Via said, rolling her eyes. Blitzø wanted to argue that he would’ve been able to break in anyway, but he decided to let it go, gesturing for Stolas to continue.

“There is also a tripwire across the front entrance that we just stepped over,” Stolas read, pointing at the almost invisible wire behind them. 

“And what does that tripwire set off?” Blitzø asked, waiting expectantly. Via sighed.

“The large cage hanging up there,” she answered, pointing upwards at the steel cage swinging slightly in the breeze. “Not obvious at all.”

“You’d be surprised what some idiots don’t notice,” Blitzø said with a shrug. Then he looked back at Stolas. “Keep going.”

“There are also weapons stashed around the house,” Stolas said. He glanced down at his notes. “There is a gun in the fridge, in the bookcase in my bedroom, and in the mouth of the fifth piranha plant from the entrance to the hallway leading to the kitchen. I’m not sure if that last one is quite safe, although my plant doesn’t seem to mind -”

“The safety’s on,” Blitzø offered. Stolas gave him an unconvinced look, but he went back to reading his notes, not questioning it further. 

“There is also a sniper rifle on my balcony, and a pair of machetes in Octavia’s bedroom -”

“I don’t remember giving you permission to go into my room, by the way,” Via said, eyes narrowing as she looked at Blitzø. “But they’re pretty cool, I guess, so I’ll let it go this time.” Blitzo grinned. They were Millie's idea. She had said something about every girl needing a knife or two.

“Please don’t touch those, princess, you could hurt yourself,” Stolas said, the worry obvious on his face. 

“What if I need to defend myself? Isn’t that the point?” Via asked. Blitzø watched as Stolas furrowed his brow. 

“That’s my job,” Blitzø assured them both. He caught Via rolling her eyes. “But maybe I could teach you how to use them properly.” Via looked at Stolas, who still seemed hesitant. Then he sighed, slumping his shoulders. 

“If you really want to, and Blitzø taught you how to use them safely, then maybe -”

“Deal,” Via said, giving a nod of approval before Stolas could change his mind. Blitzø found it interesting watching how Stolas and Via interacted. It’s not like he’d never seen it before, but he’d been so used to the thirsty, clingy, petty version of Stolas. For a while that was the only version of him that Blitzø really knew. The past few days he’d gotten to see more sides of him, this side being the protective father. It was enough to give Blitzø whiplash.

“Now that that’s all sorted, let’s get this show on the road,” Blitzø said, spitting on his crystal and rubbing circles on its surface. 

“Gross,” Via said, holding up her hand so she couldn’t see. 

“Hm, yes,” Stolas said, sounding distracted. Blitzø glanced up at him and saw the way he swallowed thickly, a pretty flush on his cheeks as he watched. Blitzø thought back to the image of Stolas kneeling in front of him in the garden yesterday, ruby eyes wide and full of a desire Blitzø intended to satisfy if it wasn’t for his fucking phone. He shook his head, watching the portal open in front of them. That had been way too close. He was about to fuck everything up in that garden just because Stolas called him ‘sexy’, as if he was some horny teenager, the kind who's dick got hard from a stiff breeze. He couldn't be swayed that easily. That'd be too embarrassing. So he needed to be more careful, keep things simple.

“Wait,” Via said, looking at the portal carefully. “Couldn’t anyone just portal into our place, and avoid these traps entirely?” Blitzø opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated. Shit, she had a point.

“I assume that’s when the hidden weapons are used, correct?” Stolas offered. Blitzø nodded. 

“Exactly. And Striker would need to put in a lot of fucking effort to get the right equipment anyway. He’s not doing that shit.” 

“All you had to do to get the 'right equipment' was sleep with my dad,” Via pointed out. Stolas made a choking noise, all four eyes blowing wide.

“Octavia -” he practically whined.

“What? It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Hey, I put in a ton of effort whenever I fucked your dad -” Blitzø argued, defensive. 

“Blitzø,” Stolas actually did whine this time, face flushing red with embarrassment. 

“I regret bringing it up,” Via said, scrunching up her face in disgust. “Let’s just go already.”

“Yes, please,” Stolas said, rubbing his temples in exasperation. Blitzø shrugged.

“Right this way,” he said, waving them through. The three of them stepped into the middle of I.M.P's main office space. 

“Fuck!” Moxxie said. He’d been walking across the office with a thick stack of papers in his arms when the portal suddenly appeared in front of him. He dropped the papers and pulled out his gun, pointing it at the sudden intruder. As soon as he registered that it was Blitzø he dropped his gun, exhaling. “You startled me, sir.” 

“Put the gun away, Mox,” Blitzø said, unfazed. “We have guests.” 

“Oh!” Moxxie said, looking behind Blitzø and putting his gun away. He moved past Blitzø to walk up to Stolas and Via, the portal closing after them. “Hello your highness, and, um, also your highness,” Moxxie said. “Your highnesses,” he corrected, looking between Stolas and Via. "Highnessi?" Via grimaced.

“It’s Octavia,” she said. “Or Via, whichever,” she added, holding her arms to her chest and looking uncomfortable. 

“No need for the honorifics for me as well,” Stolas agreed, giving Moxxie a small bow. “You did save my life, after all.”

“Oh, um, okay then,” Moxxie said, shifting awkwardly where he stood. 

“Hey, it’s my favorite runaway,” Loona said from where she was sitting at her desk, phone in hand. She gave Via a grin. “How the fuck have you been?” Via smiled back, the first time Blitzø had seen her smile all day. She walked up to Loona, adjusting her beanie.

“I’ve been alright. Your dad’s turned my house into a death trap, but -”

“See! I told you, sir!” Moxxie said, looking at Blitzø. Blitzø waved him off. 

“Where’s Millie?”  

“She’s outside talking to her parents on the phone,” Moxxie explained, but then Millie entered the office, putting her phone in her pocket.

“There’s the boss!” Millie said, a wide smile on her face. Blitzø crossed his arms, although he was smiling, too. “How’s the bodyguardin’ going? Anythin’ exciting happened? Kill any intruders?” Once again Blitzø thought back to his hand on Stolas’ neck, and how he’d been so close to kissing Stolas until that needy bitch was begging for more -

“Pretty boring,” Blitzø said, clearing his throat. He stole a glance at Stolas, who was watching Loona and Via chat with a happy gleam in his eyes. “Let’s talk about this ‘super fun’ job you mentioned,” he said, walking towards the door to his personal office. He opened his door, but then turned back to look at Stolas. “You good if I have a meeting in here for a few minutes?” Stolas turned to look at him and nodded. 

“Yes, I’ll be quite alright.” Blitzø noticed him glance at the mountain of disorganized paperwork on Moxxie’s desk, as well as the papers scattered on the floor. 

“Okay, uh, good,” Blitzø said, cringing at how awkward he sounded. He walked into his office, gesturing for Millie and Moxxie to enter, and then closed the door behind him, but not before taking one last peak at Stolas, who had picked one of the papers off the floor and was reading it with interest. 

“You’re quite attentive to his highness,” Moxxie observed, and Blitzø turned to see the smug look on his face as he glanced over to look at Millie. 

“Fuck off,” Blitzø said, moving to sit in the chair behind his desk and kicking his feet up. “I see you didn’t finish that paperwork even though I gave you two whole days, Mox.” He raised a brow. “Slacking off while the boss isn’t around?” Moxxie rolled his eyes. 

“You couldn’t possibly expect me to go through all of that in two days,” he argued. “Some of those papers aren’t even work documents, Blitzø, just doodles you drew, most of which are very inappropriate for the workplace, may I add - what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

“I liked the one with the two horses kissing on a pile of corpses,” Millie offered. Blitzø grinned. 

“Yeah, that was a good one. Speaking of, what does this job have to do with horses, Mills? You gave me nothing over the phone. We killing another farmer? Because in case you forgot, last time I was captured and put into a stupid-ass chupra-ca-dupra costume -”

“So this job is a little different,” Millie said, clasping her hands behind her back and rocking on her heels. Blitzø narrowed his eyes. 

“Spit it out, Millie.” Then he laughed. “Does Moxxie ever tell you to do that -?”

“Sir!” Moxxie said, flushing red. 

“My parents had their prized horse stolen by some bandits and wanted our help,” Millie explained. Blitzø sighed, moving his feet off the desk.

“You know we don’t do jobs for locals, Millie, that shit gets messy -”

“I know,” Millie said. “Sallie Mae offered to take care of it, but things are busy right now and they really need her help at the ranch. They did say that you’d get to ride one of their horses -” Blitzø considered that. 

“Well fuck, Mills, your parents drive a hard bargain. We still getting paid?” Millie nodded, putting a hand on her hip. 

“They’re still confused about this whole ‘freelance’ thing, but they insisted on payin’.”

“Then what the hell, let’s go track down a demon horse,” Blitzø said, moving to stand. He elbowed Moxxie on his way to the door, causing him to double over, letting out a wheeze. “Maybe you can finally impress the in-laws.” Moxxie sighed, straightening back up.

“That’d be nice.” Millie gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then Blitzø put his hand on the doorknob.

“Blitzø,” Millie said gently. Blitzø stopped, turning his face towards her. There was something about her tone that put him on edge. He could feel himself sliding into the defensive. “How has it been, really? You looked - bothered - when you found out what happened to his highness -”

“I told you, Millie, it’s been boring. I’m basically babysitting. We made fucking brunch yesterday.” Blitzø paused. “I’ll stick around a few more days in case that cowboy fuck shows up, and then it’ll be business as usual -”

“You cooked together?” Moxxie asked, brow raised. “That’s pretty domestic -”

“We need to have a serious meeting about boundaries in the workplace -” Blitzø began. Moxxie rolled his eyes.

“You have to be kidding, sir,” he said. “At least we’re not peeking through the window while you two are in bed -”

“We’re not doing anything!” Blitzø said, baring his teeth and glaring at him. Moxxie’s eyes widened in surprise. Blitzø sighed, dropping his hand from the doorknob. “I just - I just don’t want anything bad to happen to him, okay? This whole shit started because I fucked him in order to get that book and then his asshole wife found out, so -”

“There’s really nothin’ more goin on?” Mille asked gently. “It’s okay if there is, B. It may even be a good thing. You seemed excited to see him on the full moon the last time -”

“I was horny,” Blitzø corrected, catching Moxxie’s disgusted expression. Blitzø rolled his eyes. “We don’t have time for this. You wanna help out your parents or not?” He opened the door, seeing Loona still at her desk, but now Via was sitting on top of the desk, swinging her legs and laughing. 

“Sometimes when I’m bored I prank call past clients,” he heard Loona say.

“Do they usually fall for it?” Via asked, curious. Loona scoffed.

“Of course they do. They’re all dumbasses. Why do you think they ended up coming to us in the first place?” Loona reached over to grab the phone, lifting it from the receiver. “Wanna give it a try?” Via nodded, and Loona started dialing a number.

“Oh Loonie, I’m so proud of you reaching out to clients,” Blitzø cooed, entering the main office space. 

“That’s her job, sir,” Moxxie pointed out. “And she’s clearly not calling them in a professional manner -”

“I only fuck with the clients who’ve already paid us, dickhead,” Loona said, setting down the phone to flip Moxxie off. Moxxie made an offended noise.

“That’s my business-savvy Loonie-Toonie,” Blitzø said. Loona rolled her eyes. Then he noticed Stolas sitting at Moxxie’s desk, neat piles of papers stacked in front of him. He was leaning back in the chair, legs crossed and eyes quickly scanning through a page before setting it at the top of one of the piles. He looked completely engrossed in what he was doing, like he was one of Blitzø’s diligent employees. It was pretty hot, and he’d be lying if it didn’t give him a few ideas.

“Your highness - I mean,” Moxxie cleared his throat, approaching his desk, “um, Stolas?” Stolas looked up at him, surprised. 

“Oh!” Stolas said, quickly moving to stand. He walked around Moxxie’s desk, looking nervous as he fidgeted with his hands. “I thought I might as well make myself useful and sort through all this paperwork. I put client requests here, sorted from oldest to newest, invoices here, payment receipts here, and those funny little doodles here,” he explained, pointing out the different stacks of papers. Blitzø saw his doodle of the two horses making out at the top of one of the piles. 

“Shit, would you look at that,” Blitzø said, resting his arm on Moxxie’s shoulder. “If you aren’t careful, Mox, I may just have Stolas replace you.” Stolas let out a nervous laugh.

“I could never shoot a gun as well as he can,” Stolas said. “It wouldn’t be in your best interest to lose such a talented individual, Blitzø.” Moxxie puffed out his chest a little.

“Thank you, Stolas,” Moxxie said with a nod, and Blitzø rolled his eyes, “for the compliment, and for helping me with the paperwork that was unfairly dumped on me.” He gave Blitzø a pointed look that Blitzø ignored. 

“It was no trouble. I quite enjoyed it,” Stolas confessed, clasping his hands behind his back. He looked at Blitzø, ruby eyes curious. “What shall we do next? Are we to see those horses that were mentioned?” Blitzø removed his arm from Moxxie’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, we’re taking a trip to Wrath,” Blitzø explained. Then he remembered something. “Wait here.” He went back into his office, opening the top drawer of his desk and rummaging inside until he found what he was looking for. He walked up to Stolas, holding out a phone. “Here,” he said, dropping it into Stolas’ hands. Stolas looked at it in surprise, then looked back up at Blitzø. Blitzø shrugged. “In case you need it, you know, since that dick broke your phone. It already has my number in it, and M&M’s and Loona’s.”

“I didn’t consent to having my number shared,” Loona pointed out. 

“Worried I’ll prank call you?” Stolas teased, turning to look at her. Loona scoffed, but said nothing else. Blitzø raised a brow, surprised that Loona didn’t let loose a barbed reply. Loona didn’t like a lot of people, but she seemed not to mind Stolas. He wondered why. Then Stolas turned back to Blitzø. “I would ask if you’re quite sure, but I expect you wouldn’t like that question -”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Blitzø agreed. “Take it, Stols. Just in case.” He winced. He hadn’t meant to use that nickname in front of everyone else. He saw the way Stolas’ eyes lit up, however, and that made up for some of the embarrassment. 

“Okay, thank you,” Stolas said. He began to type something into it. Blitzø shifted his attention to Loona and Via. 

“You two good to hang around here?” 

“Yeah, we can keep ourselves busy,” Loona said.

“With work, I presume,” Moxxie said, crossing his arms. Loona rolled her eyes. 

“Maybe I’ll do what you did and wait for somebody else to do my work for me,” she shot back. Moxxie’s jaw dropped.

“Dad, you haven’t asked for my phone number,” Via pointed out before Moxxie and Loona could begin yet another one of their arguments. It was easy for Blitzø to detect the insecurity in her voice. 

“I know your number by heart, dearest,” he said, walking up to her. “I’ve already added it.” Blitzø watched as he held up his phone for Via to see. “I made your contact photo the picture of you dressed as a pumpkin. Remember that photo of us I posted on Sinstagram?” 

“Did you ever end up learning my phone number, sir?” Moxxie whispered to Blitzø.

“Fuck no,” Blitzø said. Moxxie frowned. 

“Ha, cute,” Loona said, leaning over to look at Stolas’ phone. Via covered her face with her hands.

“Dad -” she groaned.

“I know, I know, but you just look so adorable." He looked at his phone screen, his smile widening. “Look at your precious little smile -”

“Okay, I get it,” Via said, removing her hands from her face and crossing her arms instead. Blitzø could tell that she was suppressing a smile even as she looked away from them all, feigning annoyance. He couldn’t help but be amused at the sight. She tried to act cool, but she was just as bad at hiding her emotions as her dad was. “Why’re you going, anyway?” she asked, changing the subject and looking at her father. “Shouldn’t you stay here with us?” 

“I, well -” Stolas began. Blitzø knew that there were a number of reasons why Stolas planned to go - in case Blitzø needed to help him with his ‘condition’, which was complicated to explain, because he wanted to see Blitzø with a horse, which would embarrass them both if he admitted that out loud, and he wanted Loona and Via to bond, which would embarrass Via if he offered that reason. Blitzø could tell that he was struggling to choose which explanation to go with.

“I asked him to join us,” Blitzø said, deciding to step in. Surprised eyes turned towards him. He shrugged. “I can protect him and do my job at the same time. We’re just looking for a horse.” Via considered him, gaze skeptical. 

“Fine, whatever,” she finally said, turning her attention back to her dad. “Just be careful. If you get hurt twice in one week I’m making you take that photo off your Sinstagram.”

“Hm, deal,” Stolas said, pressing a kiss to Via’s forehead. Via rolled her eyes, but she still smiled. “Have a nice time, you two.” Loona leaned back in her chair. 

“You should get Via a souvenir or something,” she suggested. Stolas’ eyes lit up.

“What a wonderful idea!”

“Do you want me to get you something too, sweetie?” Blitzø asked, batting his eyes at her. 

“No. Now fuck off already,” she replied, “Via and I have phone calls to make.” Blitzø smiled. He was going to get her something. He took that as his cue to open up a portal to Millie’s family ranch. This job was gonna be easy, and getting to see Stolas being amazed at how cool he looked while doing his job was a bonus, although he’d never admit to that shit, especially not to M&M. Those nosy assholes. 

“Giddyup, bitches,” Blitzø said, walking through the portal as Moxxie, Millie, and Stolas followed behind. 

Stolas looked up at the wooden and barbed wire arch with the metal ‘ROUGH N’ TUMBLEWEED RANCH’ sign, and decided that a change of outfit was in order. He waved his arms, calling on his magic. A flash of purple light later and he was in an open, wine-colored vest with a black bandana tied around his neck, along with a dark brown cowboy hat and pants to match. 

“The fuck?” Blitzø said, looking up at him. “Why’d you change?”

“To match the occasion,” Stolas said. He suddenly felt self-conscious. “Do I look bad?” He watched as Blitzø’s eyes slowly raked over him, that lingering look enough to cause Stolas to blush. Blitzø was in one of his usual outfits that he changed into this morning, wearing his signature long, black coat.

“No,” Blitzø said. “I didn't say that.”

“Do you want me to change your outfit too?” Stolas offered, remembering the outfit Blitzø was wearing during the Harvest Moon festival. It did look rather fetching on him. The things Stolas had wanted to do with those suspenders - 

“Nah, you should save your energy,” Blitzø said with a wave of his hand. Then Stolas noticed his hesitation. “You haven’t needed to, uh, you know, in a while,” he tried to explain, gesturing between the two of them.

“Oh! I suppose not,” Stolas said, considering that. He thought back to last night. They had ended up cuddling quite a lot, basically the entire night, although they never discussed what happened - or almost happened - in the garden. He guessed, similar to yesterday, that those hours of contact had helped, once again filling up this mysterious ‘battery’ he still didn’t fully comprehend. 

“What I said before still stands,” Blitzø said. Stolas watched as he glanced over at Millie and Moxxie, who were talking to Millie’s parents on the front porch. “But maybe be a little discreet about it in public, 'kay? I don’t want those two to start asking me even more annoying questions. It’ll piss me off.” Stolas watched him shift uncomfortably. He’d been lying if he wasn’t a little hurt by those words.

“You said that friends, um, touch each other, though, right?” Stolas asked, clasping his hands in front of him. “So would it really be so strange?” Blitzø sighed.

“They’ll just make a big deal of it, okay?” Blitzø said. “You gotta trust me on this. It’ll be easier for both of us.”

“Okay, understood,” Stolas said quietly, squeezing his clasped hands and letting out an exhale. He managed to give Blitzø a smile. “I feel fine, anyway, so I may not even require your help while we’re here.” 

“Yeah?” Blitzø asked, and Stolas wondered why he didn’t look happier about that. Wouldn’t that make everything easier on him, based on what he just said? “Yeah, good,” Blitzø said, more firmly this time. He left to go join the rest of the group on the porch. Stolas watched him go, feeling suddenly out of place here. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. Wasn’t he just inserting himself into this part of Blitzø’s life with little reason? It’s not like he had given Blitzø much of a choice as to whether or not he would come. He slumped his shoulders. He always managed to back Blitzø into a corner in order to satisfy his own desires, didn’t he? He thought he’d gotten better at avoiding that.

“Hey,” a deep voice said, and Stolas looked over in surprise as someone came to join him. The deep voice belonged to an imp - broad-chested and quite tall. He had white, somewhat fluffy hair and horns that stuck straight out at the sides, curling slightly at the ends. He was wearing an outfit not too dissimilar from Stolas’ - a cropped, brown vest that showed off his muscular body as well as the pentagram tattoo on his left shoulder, and jeans with a brown belt and gold buckle. 

“H-hello,” Stolas said, surprised as to why this stranger had suddenly come to speak to him of all people. The imp looked up at him and held out a hand. 

“The name’s Beau,” the imp, apparently Beau, said. Stolas accepted the handshake, and his eyes widened as he watched Beau kiss the back of his hand instead. “What should I call you, pretty bird?”

“Oh, um, uh -” Stolas stuttered out, extremely caught off guard. “S-stolas. That is my name.”

“The prince who oversees the Harvest Moon festival every year?” Beau asked, and Stolas nodded. Beau bowed. “It’s an honor to meet you, your highness.” Stolas let out a nervous laugh, slipping his hand away from Beau’s. 

“Please, just call me Stolas,” he insisted, watching as Beau straightened back up. He was a few feet shorter than Stolas, but still taller than average for an imp. Maybe even a bit taller than Blitzø. 

“I don’t know if I can get used to that,” Beau admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Can you bear with me if I stick to your highness?”

“Of course, whatever you’re comfortable with,” Stolas said quickly. “Just don’t feel as if you have to treat me differently. I am simply here to help with a job.”

“You talkin’ about the horse?” Beau asked. Stolas nodded. 

“Yes, I suppose you would know all about it - I’m assuming you work on this ranch?”

“Indeed I do, your highness,” Beau said. “I’m the new farmhand they hired. I guess the last one went crazy or somethin’.” Stolas winced.

“Yes, I think I heard something about that,” Stolas replied vaguely. Then his eyes lit up. “Can you tell me what work you do here? I’ve never thought to ask how these ranches typically function.” Stolas let out another nervous laugh. “I really should’ve asked sooner. I do come here once a year, and the work you all do is important.”

“That’s mighty thoughtful of you,” Beau said, shooting him a smile. He put his hands on his hips. “I myself help with general farm maintenance - repairin’ the fences, cleanin’ the tools, helpin’ take care of the animals -” he paused, giving Stolas a wink. “I’m pretty handy, and talented at a number of things.”

“Fascinating!” Stolas said. “It must be hard work, doing such a variety of tasks.” Beau stretched, muscles flexing as he did so. Stolas averted his gaze, glancing over at Blitzø, who was still talking with Millie’s parents. Then he noticed Millie already looking over at them. He gave her a small wave. She waved back, giving him a grin.

“I have a lot of stamina,” Beau said, and Stolas shifted his attention back to him, “so it may be hard for other people, but it’s easy for me.” 

“That’s quite impressive,” Stolas acknowledged. He was still confused as to why this farmhand was so interested in talking to him. Stolas found it horribly awkward talking to new demons. He often felt like he was saying the wrong things, and he never knew what to do with his hands. He became too overly conscious of himself in a way that made him feel lacking. But at least this stranger didn’t think so, or, hadn’t noticed yet. That made him feel a bit better.

“How’s your stamina?” Beau asked, and Stolas’ eyes widened in surprise.

“Well I - I’m not sure. I mostly do a lot of reading -”

“His stamina's none of your business, dickhead,” Blitzø said, appearing next to Stolas and crossing his arms, a hostile energy emanating from him. “Who’re you, anyway?”

“He’s the new farmhand,” Stolas explained. “His name is Beau.” He watched as Blitzø glared at the other imp.

“Already exchanged names, huh? Don’t you have your job to go do?” 

“I’m doin’ it right now,” Beau said, baring his teeth as he smiled at Blitzø. “I’m the one who’s guiding y’all through the desert to find Blaze. Didn’t think we’d just let you wander around willy-nilly, did ya?”

“Is Blaze a horse?” Stolas asked, looking down at Blitzø, who was still glaring daggers at Beau.

“Yeah, it’s the prized horse that some idiot let get stolen,” Blitzø said. “Wonder who that was?” Beau shrugged.

“It’s definitely a shame. A lesson learned that bad things can happen when you leave somethin’ special unattended,” Beau said. “Some fella can come by when you least expect it and scoop that thing right up.” Stolas looked between the two of them, confused as to what exactly was happening. 

“Um, shall we get going? And where are we headed, exactly?” Stolas asked. Beau looked up at him.

“Good question, your highness. It’s a bit of a ways away, but we got word recently from a neighbor that Blaze was spotted with some bandits near an abandoned cavern. We’re assumin’ that they’ve been hidin’ out there.”

“Then let’s quit the chit-chat and get this shit started,” Blitzø said. “M&M! Time to go!” he called out, the two of them still on the porch chatting with Millie’s family. An imp child, who Stolas assumed was one of Millie’s siblings, was on her shoulders, biting her arm. Millie peeled him off and she grabbed Moxxie’s hand, the two of them coming to join them. 

Blitzø fucking despised that kiss-ass, dickhead farmhand. 

“You know how to taxidermy?” Stolas asked, eyes lighting up in a way that made Blitzø want to choke said dickhead out right there in the stables. 

“Sure do. I needed a new hobby, and there’s tons of roadkill ‘round these parts,” Beau said with a shrug, untethering the horses from their stalls. He gave Stolas a grin. “You interested?”

“Well, not me, although I’m sure it’s a lovely hobby,” Stolas confessed. Blitzø rolled his eyes, resting his hip on one of the wooden beams in the middle of the stable and crossing his arms. “But my daughter Via loves taxidermy and things of that nature. Do you think that I could find something here to take home to her?”

“I’d be happy to help you with that personally once we get back,” Beau offered. 

“Really? How kind of you,” Stoles said, surprised. Blitzø thought he could throw up. He couldn’t even enjoy these rad horses properly. He watched as Beau led three flaming demon horses out of the stables. They all looked pretty similar to the one Striker had - dark gray bodies, flaming, orange manes, rib cages filled with lava. But one of them had white speckles along its body, which Blitzø particularly liked. 

“What do you think, Blitzø?” Stolas asked, walking next to him as the rest of them exited the stable, following Beau. “They look quite formidable. Have you ever ridden one before?”

“Nah, but I got to feed one,” Blitzø said with a shrug. “It was the last time I was here. I’m pissed that it was that cock-sucking cowboy’s. He said I could ride his horse after the festival, but we never got around to it.”

“Ah, yes,” Stolas said. “I spent quite a bit of time tied up on the back of that horse.” He paused. “On the bright side, today is finally your chance.”

“Yeah,” Blitzø said, watching as Millie and Moxxie got on one of the horses, Millie taking the reins and Moxxie holding her from behind. Millie had a dangerous gleam in her eyes. 

“Blitzø -” Stolas said, and Blitzø noticed him reach out his hand.

“How ‘bout you ride with me, your highness,” Beau offered, grinning at Stolas and gesturing to his horse. “Don’t worry, I can keep her steady. I’m guessing you may not be used to this kinda ridin’.” Blitzø glared at him, clenching his fists at his sides. Every word he said really pissed him the fuck off. He didn’t like the way he looked at Stolas either, his gaze lingering all over his body like Stolas was some piece of meat. Only he was allowed to look at Stolas like that. 

“It’s true that I’ve never ridden a horse before,” Stolas admitted, shifting his stance nervously. Blitzø felt Stolas’ eyes on him. “But maybe I should ride with Blitzø -?”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Blitzø said, putting more bite in his tone than he intended to. He watched Stolas’ recoil slightly, dropping the hand that had been reaching out towards him.

“We can talk about what kinda taxidermy your daughter likes, see if I already have what she’s lookin’ for,” Beau suggested. “Besides, you might be better off with someone who knows what he’s doing.” Blitzø scoffed, crossing his arms. 

“I’m not sure -” Stolas began. 

“Just get on his fucking horse, Christ,” Blitzø said, walking up to the white-speckled horse and climbing in the saddle. It took a second for him to get his bearings and keep the horse steady, but it ended up being easy as shit. He should've felt more excited about being on a horse, but his simmering rage was ruining it, which only made him angrier. He looked down at Stolas, who was looking up at him in confusion. “We don’t have all day. I wanna to be back before sundown.”

“Right, okay,” Stolas said, looking at Blitzø a moment longer before walking up to Beau. Beau offered his hand and helped Stolas onto the horse. Blitzø watched as Beau climbed into the saddle next, taking the reins.

“Make sure you hold on tight to me, your highness,” he said.

“Um, like this?” Stolas asked, politely resting his hands on Beau’s sides. Beau laughed, grabbing Stolas’ hands and wrapping them around his torso. Stolas let out a surprised hoot as he was pulled forward. Blitzø growled at the sight. 

“Like this, gotta keep you safe,” Beau said, turning slightly to grin at Stolas. Blitzø watched as Stolas blinked back, the innocent look on his face making Blitzø want to scream. Then he caught Millie and Moxxie watching him.

“You good?” Millie asked quietly, moving her horse to stop next to Blitzø’s.

“You look like you’re about to have an an aneurysm, sir,” Moxxie added. Blitzø rolled his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s go.” He kicked his heels into his horse's torso and it began to walk forward. “Start moving, country prick,” he called out, and Beau gave him that absolutely infuriating smile, sliding his hands away from where Stolas was holding him. 

“Better keep up,” Beau replied. Then he snapped his reins. 

“Oh fuck!” Stolas said, holding Beau tighter as they took off towards the entrance to the ranch at high speed, Stolas’ hat flying off and falling to the ground in front of Blitzø.

“Talk about a steady ride, that dickhead,” Blitzø said, baring his teeth as the dust began to settle around him. He snapped the reins and followed after them, Millie and Moxxie close behind. 

This ride was quickly becoming familiar to Stolas. They sped past inactive volcanoes and train tracks, over arid soil and between the occasional patches of cacti. The sky was blood red and foreboding. Although they hadn’t taken exactly the same route, once they reached the entrance of a mine shaft Stolas was positive he knew where they were going. 

He wanted to say something, maybe ask Beau to stop, but he wouldn’t understand Stolas’ bad feeling the way Blitzø would. He opened his mouth a few times, thinking he should at least try, but he couldn’t bring himself to make the request. It would probably be fine. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Blitzø not too far behind them on his own horse, but out of earshot. Millie and Moxxie were keeping pace next to Blitzo. 

He wished that he was riding with Blitzø instead. He’d wanted to ask what else he knew about horses, why he liked them so much, and how it felt to be finally riding one. He looked like quite the natural. He wondered if Blitzø would want to see horses with Stolas in the living world. Maybe then they could ride a horse together? He imagined wrapping his arms around Blitzø’s torso instead, feeling secure and excited as Blitzø took the reins and led them wherever he wanted to go. It scared him how desperately he wanted to make that happen, wanted to spend more time with him in general.

But Blitzø was acting differently today, more distant than he’d been recently. Stolas didn’t understand why. Was it something he did? Or was this Blitzø being more discreet, like he asked Stolas to do? He faced forward, darkness enveloping them as they moved through the mineshaft, the carved rock forming a twisting tunnel. The train tracks were broken and rusted. 

“How’re you holdin’ up, your highness?” Beau asked in the dim light, his horse still moving at a quick pace, but slower than before.

“I’m alright,” Stolas said. “It’s a bit humid in here, don’t you think?”

“We are in one of Wrath’s volcanos,” Beau said, “but I think the hottest thing in here is you.”

“E-excuse me?” Stolas asked, releasing his hold around Beau’s torso.

“I always thought you were quite the looker whenever I saw you up on stage during the festival,” Beau explained, “but you’re even better up close.”

“Oh, um, thank you?” Stolas said. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say to that.” Beau laughed.

“You must be used to getting compliments, I understand,” Beau said. “But I felt like sayin’ it anyway. I’m always vocal about the things I like.”

“You…like me?” Stolas asked, dumbfounded.

“What’s not to like?” Beau asked. Stolas could think of quite a number of things, but he held his tongue. 

“Hey dickhead, are we almost there?” Blitzø called out from somewhere behind them. “What dumbass steals a horse and brings it here?”

“A dumbass who doesn’t want it to be found is my guess,” Moxxie offered. “Millie, something’s been bothering me. Are you getting a weird sense of déjà vu?” 

“I was thinking the same thing, Mox,” Millie said. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, though. We’ve been to a lot of crazy places.”

“Crumbs,” Moxxie said. “I feel like we should really know this.” 

“It’s -” Stolas began, but then Beau flicked his reins and his horse leaped into the air, falling downwards until it landed in the middle of a large, very familiar cavern. Stolas held the sides of the saddle for dear life, catching his breath once they landed. He wasn’t used to this much excitement. The others quickly joined them. 

“Oh fuck,” Moxxie said as Millie steadied their horse, “now I remember.”

“Me too,” Millie said, frowning. She looked over at Stolas. “Uh, your highness? You doin’ alright?”

“What? Why’re you asking Stolas that?” Blitzø asked, looking between the two of them in confusion. Stolas opened his mouth to reply, but he was feeling a bit lightheaded. He looked around at the gaudy neon signs, the saloon, and then he spotted a large horse that wasn’t one of theirs, tied with rope to a jagged stalagmite on the other side of the cavern.

“Over there,” Stolas said, and Beau followed his gaze.

“Good eye, your highness,” Beau said, hopping off his horse. He held out his hand. “That’s the horse we’re lookin’ for.” Stolas accepted his hand, getting down from the horse. His knees wobbled as he reached solid ground, but Beau held him steady. “Hey there, you alright?” 

“Yes, thank you,” Stolas said, gently pushing Beau's hands away as he stood on his own. “These legs aren’t used to getting off a horse after a long ride, I suppose,” he explained, letting out an uncomfortable laugh.

“You and your legs did great,” Beau said, giving him a wink. Stolas gave him a polite nod. He found this farmhand extremely perplexing. 

“Where are those thieving pricks?” Millie asked, drawing her knife. “Sallie Mae told me I’d get to kill some people.”

“Maybe they heard us coming and took off?” Moxxie suggested, although he pulled out his gun anyway, looking around. 

“I’d take off too if I heard you cumming,” Blitzø said. “You sound like a wounded animal.”

“Sir! ” 

“Let’s grab the horse and get outta here, but be on guard,” Blitzø instructed, walking over to Blaze, who was stomping his hooves and snorting, looking irritable. Stolas went to follow him.

“Blitzø -” he began, reaching out his hand as he got closer, but Blitzø kept walking. 

“Looks like you had a fun ride,” Blitzø said over his shoulder, tone even. 

“Oh, I guess so? It was fine,” Stolas said, shaking his head. Was the inside of this volcano just as hot the last time? Had he been too preoccupied with Striker’s threats and his injuries to notice? He glanced over at the part of the train tracks that were positioned vertically against a large, sharp piece of rock, remembering how he’d been tied up there, hanging upside down as Striker stabbed his shoulder with a blessed weapon. His eyes drifted downwards to the place where Striker had stabbed him a few more times, Stolas' powers having been rendered useless. He put a hand over the bandages on his shoulder, remembering how helpless he felt. But it didn’t compare to the pain he’d felt only a few days ago - the blood oozing out of him, the struggle for each breath, the stab of pain deep within his heart -

“Hey,” Blitzø said, and Stolas looked up to see that Blitzø had finally turned to face him, his expression a mix of what Stolas thought could be concern and skepticism. “You look like shit. Why was Millie asking if you’re okay earlier? Does she know something I don’t?” Stolas approached him, closing some of the distance between them. He reached out his hand once more, but then he noticed the way Blitzø was crossing his arms, feeling so far away for some reason. Stolas held his arms to his chest instead, looking away. 

“We can talk about it later,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to keep you from finishing your job. You wanted to get this done before sunset, didn’t you?” He felt Blitzø’s gaze on him for a long moment, and then Blitzø scoffed, turning his back to Stolas and continuing to head towards the horse.

“Fine, don’t tell me. Just pick the worst fucking time like you usually do.” Stolas watched him walk away, opening his mouth to say something, but frowned instead. Then he noticed a flash of red flit across his vision, zipping between two of the larger rock formations near the ceiling of the cavern. 

“Blitzø -” Stolas began, but Blitzø kept walking, ignoring him. He felt himself burning up, but it didn’t make any sense. Why now? It had to be the volcano, or from riding across the hot desert, or something else. He turned to look at the rest of the group, who were still standing by their horses. 

“I-I think there’s someone else here -” Stolas called out to them, but before he could finish his sentence a group of imps came down from the ceiling, wielding all sorts of weapons. 

Blitzø regretted telling Stolas that as soon as he said it, but his pride prevented him from taking it back. He just didn’t understand how Stolas could wrap his arms around some random asshole and let said asshole blatantly hit on him, practically asking to fuck him, right in front of Blitzø. It made him see red, but what made him angrier was that he felt any way about it in the first place. Stolas was the one who said he had feelings for Blitzø, and Blitzø was the one who wrote him off, so who was he to be jealous? Verosika was right, he should just say ‘good for him’ and fuck off, but that was easier said than done, especially after spending the last few days with him. Who did that dickhead think he was? Believing that someone as smart and powerful and caring and fun and sexy as Stolas would like some rando like him? And yet, who was Blitzø to have that glimmer of hope as well? If anything, he had even less of a fucking chance. Maybe princesses and princes can end up with herdsmen and farmhands or whatever-the-fuck, but princes didn’t end up with shitheads like Blitzø. They shouldn’t. 

He reached the horse. Blaze - which was a pretty cool fucking name - although Blitzø had come up with better - was larger than the ones they rode here on. He was an extremely dark, ebony color. His flames glowed crimson, tendrils flicking as the horse continued to snort and stomp its hooves in agitation.

“It’s alright, buddy,” Blitzø said, holding out his hands. “We’re here to take you home.” He approached the horse slowly, and by some miracle the horse allowed Blitzø to rest a hand on its snout. Blitzø tried not to freak out, although he could hardly contain his excitement. It almost made up for how shitty he felt for blowing Stolas off so many times today. But Stolas had been holding onto that dickhead for about an hour now, so at least he wasn’t in any danger with his weird condition -

“Oh crumbs!” Moxxie shouted, and Blitzø quickly turned to see a band of imps attacking the others, wielding guns and knives. Where the fuck did they come from? Blaze moved up onto his hind legs and started kicking out. Blitzø barely dodged, rolling out of the way and pulling out his gun, blasting one of the bandits in the head. He searched through the chaos, imps jumping around the cavern from all directions, and felt a panic rising in his chest. Where was -?

His eyes widened when he saw Stolas on the ground, beak open and throat fluttering as he tried to shakily hold himself up by his arms. That farmhand was standing in front of him, pistol out and shooting anyone who got near them. 

“Thought you could get the drop on us?” a voice said from behind Blitzø. He tore his eyes away from Stolas and turned, aiming his gun and shooting. The small imp quickly dodged, however, jumping from one rock to another. The imp had shaggy black hair and was wearing a poncho and sombrero. He bared his pointy teeth at Blitzø, revealing a large knife from behind his back. “I remember you. You won the Pain Games with Striker. You must be strong if you were able to tie with someone like him.”

“Sounds like you know the guy,” Blitzø said, pointing his gun between the imp’s eyes. The imp grinned. 

“I used to keep tabs on him, along with my group. Before he threatened to kill us if he saw us again, that is.”

“Why the interest?” 

“Every hero needs a narrator,” the imp replied with a shrug. “And the best heroes have a musical accompaniment.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Blitzø asked, giving him a look of disgust. The imp took that as his opportunity to jump at him, slashing his knife. Blitzø dodged and punched him in the face. The imp fell to the ground, rolling a few times. Blitzø watched as he quickly got to his feet, still grinning as blood gushed from his nose.

“This used to be his hideout, you know. It’s where he’d bring his targets.” Blitzø looked around. Then a few things clicked in his brain.

“Did he - is this where he took Stolas?” Blitzø asked. 

“That owl prince? Oh yeah. Striker really did a number on him, but the prince seemed convinced that this ‘Blitzø’ guy would come save him.” The imp paused, seeming to notice a change in Blitzø’s expression. “Shit, that’s you, isn’t it? Don’t remember you showing up, though. That’s awkward.” Blitzø trained his gun on him again. 

“Where’s Striker hiding now?” 

“Were you not listening?” the imp asked, sounding impatient. “He made sure we couldn’t find him, and threatened us if we tried. So now we’re selling this fine horse and using that money to start our music career somewhere we’ll be appreciated.” Blitzø rolled his eyes. So they were fighting a group of amateur performers. They were currently in Hell, but Christ on a stick, talk about lowest of the low.

“Then you’re no use to me,” Blitzø said, taking another shot. The imp dodged this one too, but barely. Slippery fuck.

“If you don’t wanna die don’t cross Striker’s path,” the imp said, perched on one of the rocks again. His hair was now pushed away from his face, his yellow eyes glowing. “He’s the best assassin in the ring of Wrath.” Blitzø raised a brow.

“Is that a line from one of your fucking songs?” Blitzø asked. The imp puffed out his chest.

“Yes, I came up with -” but Blitzø didn’t let him finish that stupid-ass sentence, choosing to blow his brains out while he was distracted instead. Before the imp’s body could even fall to the ground, Blitzø turned to check on the others. He watched as Millie stabbed a taller cowboy imp vertically, two new halves sliding off her knife and into the dust. She quickly moved onto another, similar-looking imp, this one carrying a shotgun, and made quick work of him, blood splattering across her face as she laughed. Moxxie was sniping some of the smaller imps as they crawled across the cavern ceiling, singing about whatever-the-fuck. Once he was sure that Millie and Moxxie were fine, he hurried over to Stolas. Beau was kneeling next to him, hand on his shoulder. 

“Your highness,” Beau said, furrowing his brow. “What’s goin’ on? Did you get shot?” 

“Out of the way, idiot,” Blitzø said, shoving him aside. “Go make yourself useful and back them up.” He nodded at Millie and Moxxie. Beau glared at him, but then he moved to stand, drawing his pistol.

“He deserves better,” he said, back to Blitzø, and then he went to join the fray. Blitzø felt a flash of anger. He almost said some barbed reply back, but he held his tongue. Stolas was panting, clutching his chest as he managed to hold himself up with his other arm. His eyes were scrunched closed.

“Is it the heat again?” Blitzø asked. Stolas didn’t respond, still struggling to breathe, and Blitzø quickly knelt down, moving to hold his hand. Stolas pulled away, however, closing his hand into a fist and placing it back on his chest. Blitzø’s eyes widened in surprise. “Come on, Stols, are you mad at me? I didn’t mean -” 

“I tried to tell you!” Stolas said, opening his eyes and revealing small, white pupils. Blitzø saw the tears welling up in them. “I kept trying to reach for you and you shut me out! Why, Blitzø? What did I do -?” Blitzø shook his head, reaching for Stolas’ hand once more, but again Stolas pulled it away as he gasped for air.

“You didn’t do anything. I was just feeling shitty and -” 

“And you took it out on me!” Stolas said, tears spilling over. “I’ve been so confused, not understanding why - practically the moment we got here - you began to treat me like some kind of fucking pest - can you imagine how that made me feel -?” Blitzø reached out to him for a third time, but Stolas recoiled.

“Just let me help you now, for fuck’s sake!” Blitzø practically begged, getting frustrated. “We can talk about this later!” 

“It won’t help,” Stolas said, shaking his head. “I should’ve been fine. This whole fucking thing -” he took in a shuddering breath, “- has to do with physical touch, so this doesn’t make sense -” 

“We don’t know what it is,” Blitzø said firmly. “We’ve just been guessing while Ozzie's apparently fucking around -”

“Asmodeus is trying his best,” Stolas argued. 

“How the fuck do you know?” Blitzø asked. “Why do you expect the best from him?” Both of Blitzø’s hands were on the ground now, claws digging into volcanic ash and dust as his irritation finally reached a boiling point, catalyzed by fear and guilt. “Why’d you expect the best from me, Stolas? Why’d you think I’d be here to save you? ” Blitzø could feel tears in his own eyes as he asked that last question, tears he hastily scrubbed away with his ash-covered palms. He scoffed. “Why’d you even want someone like me in the first place? If you’re gonna go with an imp, you’re better off with that farmhand fuck. He clearly wants you. He could protect you instead of me -”

“What are you talking about?” Stolas said, looking dumbfounded. “He doesn’t -” 

“Get fucking real, Stolas, he’s been giving you ‘fuck-me’ eyes all damn day -”

“I don’t care!” Stolas said. “I don’t care if he wants -” another gasp for air, “- to fuck me or not! And I hoped you’d be the one to rescue me back then because - because I thought that there was a slim chance that you cared about me -” 

“I did!” Blitzø said. “I do! Fuck!” He quickly reached out his hand, moving towards him, but Stolas flinched, closing his eyes. He froze, looking at Stolas in surprise. “The hell? Did you think I was gonna hit you?”

“No,” Stolas said, arm shaking as he kept trying to hold himself up. “I’m - I’m just confused. It was a reflex -”

“A reflex? Stolas -” Blitzø began, but in the same moment Stolas’ arm finally gave out. Blitzø reached forward to catch him, holding him in his arms while Stolas shook and gasped. He was concernedly hot to the touch, as if there was a literal fire spreading inside of him. “Dammit, Stolas. Couldn’t you just let me do this sooner?” He looked down to see a small amount of blood seeping through the bandages on his chest. Blitzø clenched his jaw, making a mental note to replace all his bandages and check Stolas’ wounds when they got back. Stubborn bitch. He wasn’t taking no for an answer this time.

“It still burns,” Stolas managed to say, eyes closed as he cried. Blitzø tried wiping his tears away, realizing that his own hand was shaking. 

“It’s not helping?” Blitzø asked, hearing how small and scared his own voice sounded, feeling how hot Stolas was against his skin. Was Stolas right? Would it not work this time? Did he take too long? Did something change? Was he not enough?

“I-I’m tired - of feeling like this,” Stolas managed to confess, curling into himself, his cheek pressed against Blitzø chest. Blitzø slowly ran his hand up and down Stolas’ arm, resting his chin on top of Stolas’ head. 

“I’m sorry,” Blitzø said. “Today was…today was a bad day. We should’ve stayed home.”

“Home?” Stolas asked, and Blitzø’s eyes widened in shock, realizing what he said.

“Should’ve stayed at your place,” he corrected, clearing his throat. Fuck, that was embarrassing. 

“I’m glad I saw you - ride a horse, though,” Stolas admitted, voice quiet. Blitzø could feel Stolas’ shoulder pressed against his chest, and wondered if Stolas could feel his heartbeat. “One day I want to see horses in the living world - with you.” Blitzø let out a watery laugh.

“Then we need to make sure you get better,” he said. “Because that sounds like a fucking blast.”

“I vaguely remember you coming up - with horse names when we were little,” Stolas said, resting a hand on Blitzø’s chest. “I remember them being quite silly -”

“Hey, I bet they were amazing,” Blitzø said, defending himself. “I come up with the best names.”

“I think one of the names was some kind of item you’d find in an office,” Stolas continued, letting out a weak laugh. “Pencil? Printer?” Blitzø smiled. He was surprised that Stolas remembered that much. He didn’t.

“You sound better,” he observed, looking down at him. Stolas’ eyes were still scrunched closed, and he still felt warm to the touch, but the heat wasn’t as intense as it was before.

“It still burns a little,” Stolas admitted, the hand on Blitzø’s chest closing into a fist. “But not unbearably so.” He paused. “I’m sorry for doubting that you could help.”

“I’m sorry for the times I wasn’t there to help you,” Blitzø confessed. He’d been such a fucking idiot all day, letting his insecurities hurt Stolas like this. This is why Stolas was better off without him. He always managed to fuck up every good thing he had.

“Shit! Are you two okay?” Millie said, running up to them. Stolas slipped his hand away from Blitzø’s chest, managing to move into a sitting position. Blitzø watched him carefully, in case he suddenly toppled over.

“I’ll be alright,” Stolas assured her. “I’m still recovering from my last run-in with Striker, although I didn’t expect to become such a liability. I apologize.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Moxxie said, joining them. His gun was still smoking. “They were easy to kill. I was actually hoping it’d be more of a challenge. But what was up with all that terrible singing?” 

“We still need to get Blaze back to the ranch, so don’t count this as a victory quite yet,” Beau pointed out, walking up to them. He put his pistol back in the holster on his leg. “But you two are some tough bitches. Color me impressed. Although I’d expect nothin’ less from Sallie Mae’s sister.”

“She gets it from me,” Millie said with a grin, blood still on her face. She looked around. “This brings back good memories of kicking Striker’s ass.” Blitzø noticed Stolas’ grimace.

“Yes, good memories,” Stolas said, resting his hand on his shoulder. 

“Damn it, Millie,” Blitzø said, looking up at her. She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. 

“Whoops, my bad, I just really hate that fucking cowboy.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Stolas assured her. “And I certainly appreciate the ass-kicking you gave him the last time we were here.” 

“Happy to do it, your highness,” Moxxie said. “I mean, Stolas.” Blitzø watched Stolas give Moxxie a smile.

“Even the assholes who sing about Striker are annoying as shit,” Blitzø said. 

“They were annoying as shit,” Moxxie corrected. Blitzø looked around the cavern, bodies littered everywhere, some of them small imps, and others taller and more muscular. He wondered if the bigger ones had been hired. They didn’t look like they belonged in some dumbass musical troupe, but rather some dumbass cowboy gang. Regardless, they all had on stupid fucking outfits. Blitzø grinned at the carnage. Then he felt Stolas begin to shift next to him. He quickly moved to help Stolas to his feet, but Beau beat him to it, holding Stolas’ hands as he lifted him up. Stolas was a bit unsteady, but better than he was moments ago. 

“Thank you,” Stolas said to Beau, pulling his hands away as he stood on his own. 

“Feelin’ better?” Beau asked. “Oh shit,” he said, looking down at Stolas’ chest, where a splotch of blood had seeped through the bandages. Stolas quickly covered it, looking self-conscious.

“This is from a prior injury,” Stolas explained. “I’ll be fine.”

“We’re taking care of that once we get back,” Blitzø said firmly. “And I’m checking on your shoulder, too.”

“I’m fine -” Stolas tried to argue, but he stopped when he saw Blitzø’s expression. Then Blitzø noticed Millie and Moxxie exchange a look he couldn’t quite decipher. Dammit. He was positive he was going to get those annoying questions he was trying to avoid. But he preferred that to making Stolas feel the way that he did. What a shitty decision, saying that they should be more discreet and then blowing him off and keeping his distance because he was jealous. 

But this whole arrangement had an expiration date, didn’t it? Once they figured out what was going on with Stolas and fixed it, and put that asshole Striker nine rings deep in the ground, Blitzø would no longer have a reason to hang around him, and Stolas would no longer have a reason to allow him to stay. Wouldn’t it be better to wean himself off of this feeling, rather than become even more addicted to it? Wouldn’t that be better for them both? Then Stolas could find someone he deserved, someone who could give him those rom-com moments he wanted.

“Ma! Pa! We did it!” Millie called out, hopping off her horse and running towards the porch. Moxxie hopped off his horse as well, wiping the dust from his jacket before following her. Blitzø slowed his own white-speckled horse to a stop. 

“How’re you holding up, Stols?” Blitzø asked, voice low.

“A bit drained, but okay,” Stolas said, adjusting his hold on Blitzø. His arms were still wrapped around his torso even though they’d stopped. Blitzø had insisted on Stolas riding with him this time, Beau riding Blaze back. “Again, I must apologize for being more of a liability than a help back there.” Blitzø rolled his eyes.

“We didn’t bring you along for you to fight. That’s my job, remember?” 

“Still think you’d consider hiring me?” Stolas asked, a teasing edge to his voice.

“Could still be worth applying,” Blitzø said with a smile. Stolas carefully got off the horse, holding out his hand for Blitzø. Blitzø looked at him with a raised brow, then accepted it, Stolas helping him to the ground. “Tryna get on your future boss’s good side?” Blitzø asked. Stolas let out a pretty laugh.

“Is it working?” 

“I do love bribery,” Blitzø confessed, failing to hold back his grin.

“I have something for you, your highness,” Beau said, walking up to join them, hand behind his back. Stolas looked at him in curiosity. Blitzø glared, crossing his arms and putting his weight on one hip. He watched as Beau revealed a white, relatively large flower from behind his back. It had many, pointed petals and a yellow center. Blitzø glanced over to see Stolas’ eyes widen.

“This looks a lot like the night-blooming cereus they have in the living world,” Stolas said, reaching out to gently to hold it. Beau smiled. 

“Handsome and smart,” Beau observed. Blitzø growled. “You know a lot about plants?” 

“It’s a hobby of mine, yes.” 

“What do you know about this one?” Beau asked. “I just stopped to pick it on the ride back because it looked pretty like you.”

“You really like laying it on thick, huh,” Blitzø muttered. “Desperate, much? Does it get your dick wet?” Beau flipped him off, but Stolas seemed to not have noticed the interaction, still looking at the flower in his hands.

“Night-blooming cereus flowers are found on certain cacti,” Stolas answered. “It gives off a fragrant, sweet scent, but lives a short life. Some only bloom once a year, for a single night.” Blitzø watched as Stolas looked up at Beau, giving him a smile that made Blitzø feel like his guts were twisting. “Much like this acquaintance between the two of us - sweet, but short-lived.” Blitzø let out a surprised laugh, watching with glee as Beau’s smile fell. 

“I see,” Beau said, clearing his throat. He managed to smile again, putting his hands on his hips. “Well, at least let me send you off with one last gift. I have that taxidermied jackalope in my workshop back there, the one we talked about on the way to the mines.” He gestured to the shack near the main house.

“My daughter will love it, thank you,” Stolas said sincerely, eyes lighting up. Beau gave him a nod. Then he looked at Blitzø.

“Help me bring the horses to the stables first?” he asked. Blitzø wanted to tell him to fuck off, but he was in a better mood after Stolas’ rejected his ass, although he wished Stolas had been less fucking polite about it. He also didn’t hate the idea of getting more time with the horses - 

“Fine,” Blitzø said with a shrug. 

“I’ll join the rest of our party,” Stolas said, giving Blitzø a small bow. He gave Beau a nod before heading over to the porch. Blitzø watched as Millie threw an arm around Stolas’ legs, letting out a laugh as she hugged him. Moxxie tapped Stolas’ leg with his elbow, shooting him a smile. Something about the three of them getting along warmed something in Blitzø’s cold, dead heart. 

“Let’s go,” Beau said, grabbing the reins on Blaze and the horse Millie rode back. Blitzø grabbed the reins on the other two horses. They made their way to the stable, which was nearby. It wasn’t until they were both inside, the horses back in their individual stalls, chewing on hay, that Beau turned to look at Blitzø. Blitzø sighed. 

‘Here we go,’ he thought, putting a hand on his hip.

“Spit it out,” he said. Beau furrowed his brow, leaning against one of the pillars and crossing his arms, watching the horses.

“You’re the imp who had that whole transactional fuckin’ thing going on with the prince, right?” Beau asked, and Blitzø’s eyes widened in surprise. Then he glared.

“What’s it to you, cowboy bitch?” 

“That’s what I thought,” Beau said with a nod. “You really can’t share? You’re just fuckin’, aren’t ya? I’m clean, if that’s the problem.”

“Go piss on a dick,” Blitzø asked, getting increasingly more annoyed. He shook his head. “We’re not fucking, not anymore. That whole transactional thing is over.” Now it was Beau’s turn to look surprised. 

“Then can’t you just let me do my thing?” he asked, pushing off of the pillar. “Why’re you acting so fuckin’ territorial about a meal ticket you’re not even using?”

“What?” Blitzø asked, face falling. Beau rolled his eyes. 

“Stop acting so naive. I was told that people who fuck that sexually repressed bird prince get something they want out of it. That’s how it worked with you, right? I figured I could ask for some gold and live comfortably, not having to work shitty jobs for the rest of my life. Maybe I could even get some expensive jewels if I rock that scrawny thing’s world -” Blitzø pulled out his gun, aiming between Beau’s eyes. “What the hell? What’s wrong with you?” Beau asked, holding up his hands. 

“Millie’s parents have a bad habit of hiring evil farmhands who think they’re hot shit,” Blitzø said, gritting his teeth and releasing the safety on his gun. 

“Evil?” Beau asked. He let out a laugh, baring his teeth. “Look in the fuckin’ mirror, hypocrite. I’m only tryin’ to follow the blueprint you created.” Blitzø opened his mouth to reply, but the dickhead had a point. Wasn’t this the same thing Blitzø did? Wasn’t getting that book the reason he snuck into Stolas’ palace in the first place? It’s not like he slept with Stolas that night because he had feelings for him. Blitzø grimaced, putting his gun away.

“Go hand over your shitty taxidermy whatever-the-fuck and then stay away from him,” Blitzø said. “Maybe I did make that blueprint, but it was a shitty blueprint and I’m not letting anyone else follow it.” He smiled bitterly. “I can’t believe I even saw you as a threat. You’re just some run-of-the-mill scumbag.”

“We’re both scum,” Beau said, still smiling. “Don’t think you’re better than me because that prince entertains your feelings. Because you do have feelings for him now, don’t you? Got a little too comfortable sleeping with royalty. Someone like him will never choose someone like you for more than an easy fuck.”

“Don’t waste your breath telling me things I already know,” Blitzø said, rolling his eyes. “At least Stolas wanted to fuck me. You can’t say the same. Now fuck off to your shack."

“Prick,” Beau said, hitting his shoulder as he left the stable. Blitzø stood there for a few moments, listening as Beau’s footsteps got more distant. Once he was certain Beau was long gone he exhaled, running a hand down his face. 

“Fuck,” he said under his breath, the sound of rustling hay and whinnying filling the silence as Blitzø stood there alone.

“Look what I got you, Via!” Stolas sang, walking through the portal. He looked around in confusion, seeing that the main office was empty. 

“We’re in here!” Loona called out, and Stolas followed her voice, finding his way to a room with a large table, high-backed chairs, and a white board with notes and doodles he could tell were Blitzø’s. Loona and Via were sitting in two of those chairs, a pile of opened snacks on the table in front of them. Via was looking down at her phone, a complicated expression on her face. She looked up as he entered.

“Oh, hey Dad,” Via said. Then she noticed what Stolas was holding, her eyes lighting up. “What’s that?”

“Your souvenir!” Stolas said excitedly, coming to sit down next to her and placing the stuffed jackalope on the table. He clasped his hands in his lap, waiting for her reaction. She picked it up, turning it in her hands. It had burgundy fur, and large, branching antlers that looked much too large for its demon bunny head.

“I’ve never seen one of these before,” Via said in fascination, setting it back down as she continued to look at it.

“Me neither!” Stolas said. “I thought it was only a mythological animal, but the farmhand I met said that he found this in the desert.” Loona rolled her chair closer, leaning in to look at the jackalope with narrowed eyes. Then she picked it up, looking at the antlers in particular. She scoffed. 

“Maybe he saw a rabbit,” Loona said. “If you look closely the antlers were glued on. You got conned.”

“Oh,” Stolas said, smile falling.

“You didn’t pay a fortune for this, did you?” Loona asked, brow raised.

“He offered to, but I didn’t let him,” Blitzø said, entering the conference room with his hands behind his head. “Glad I didn’t, that dickhead.” Stolas thought back to that moment. Blitzø never liked Beau, but he seemed to really hate him after they came back from the stable. When Stolas had offered to pay, Beau had accepted, praising him unnecessarily for his generosity, but Blitzø insisted that he’d be given the jackalope for free. Stolas tried to argue, but Blitzø wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

“We’re taking it as part of our payment for helping you get your special horse back,” Blitzø decided, and that was that.

“I think it’s still cool,” Moxxie said, him and Millie joining them in the conference room. They sat down in the seats on the other side of the table, closer to the door. “So let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth, eh?” Stolas let out a surprised laugh and Moxxie beamed at him. Blitzø rolled his eyes.

“Don’t humor him, Stolas. We don’t encourage puns in the workplace.”

“Come on, it was funny! Right, Mills?”

“I love you, Mox, but no,” Millie said, patting his arm. He let out a sigh.

“Wit isn’t appreciated here,” Moxxie explained to Stolas. Stolas hid a smile behind his hand. 

“It is when the joke doesn’t suck ass,” Blitzø offered. 

“Noted, sir,” Moxxie said, shooting him a dry look.

“I like it too, real animal or not,” Via said. She looked at Stolas. “Thanks, Dad.” Stolas grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Anything for you, my precious starfire.”

“Okay, now you’re embarrassing me,” Via said, letting go of his hand. She held her arms to her chest self-consciously, not looking at anyone in particular, although Stolas could detect the ghost of a smile. “Are we going back home now?” Stolas glanced over at Blitzø, who was still standing by the door, hands in his pockets.

“Guess so,” Blitzø said with a shrug. “Oh wait, I have a gift for you too, sweetie -” he said, reaching into his long jacket. 

“I told you I didn't want anything -” Loona said with a groan, but then her eyes widened as Blitzø slid a clear glass mason jar across the table. She hastily moved to grab it before it fell off. “What the fuck is this?”

“Moonshine,” Blitzø said with a grin. “It’s strong as Satan's dick, too. I found it in Striker’s old hideout, figured you could bring it to the next party you go to. It’s polite to BYOB, Loonie,” he instructed. “But only do that for the people you like.” She scoffed, holding the mason jar in her hands.

“This…actually doesn’t suck. Thanks,” Loona said, and Blitzø eyes lit up. 

“Wait, you went to Striker’s old hideout?” Via asked, and Blitzø winced. Shit, right. “Isn’t he the one who almost killed my dad?”

“He wasn’t there, princess,” Stolas assured her, but she didn’t look pleased about it. Then she noticed his bandages.

“Are you bleeding?” she asked, eyes widening slightly. Stolas let out a nervous laugh.

“I may have overexerted myself, but I am unharmed, I promise,” Stolas said. “So I intend to keep that photo of us on Sinstagram,” he teased. Via frowned, but said nothing else. Stolas’ smile wavered, but he tried to look unaffected, not wanting to cause a scene in front of everyone. He’d talk to Octavia later. He should probably explain his current condition, since it didn’t seem like it was something he was going to spontaneously recover from anytime soon. He just didn’t want to worry her. He’d already caused her so much pain from the divorce alone.

“Sooo what’d we miss here? Anything new?” Blitzø asked, trying to change the subject. Stolas noticed Loona glance at Via, something in her expression that was hard to place. He thought Via may have given her a small shake of her head, but maybe he was imagining it. 

“Nah,” Loona said, inspecting her claws. “Just hung out.”

“Wait,” Moxxie said, looking at the snacks littered across the table. His eyes widened and he pointed at them. “Those are mine!”

“You shouldn’t be eating all this on your own,” Loona said, unbothered. “We were doing you a favor.” 

“I - you -” Moxxie said, exasperated. “Stop stealing my snacks! I label them for a reason!” Millie put a hand on his shoulder to calm him. Then she pulled out her knife, which still had blood on it. 

“Steal my husband’s snacks again and I’m not above cutting a bitch, Blitzø’s daughter or not,” she said, eyes narrowed. Loona shrugged.

“Noted,” she said, unfazed as she echoed Moxxie’s response only moments ago. Stolas was fascinated. These people were so comfortable around each other. They said whatever they wanted, even threatened each other, but he didn’t sense any real malice behind their actions. When he was faced with harsh words, mostly from Stella, he knew that she meant every one, and was trying to make him feel as terribly as possible. He wasn’t sure what to make of this.

“Don’t kill each other while I’m not around,” Blitzø said, raising his wrist and reaching for his crystal.

“Wait, let me,” Stolas said, moving to stand. He held his arms up, close together, and then spread them apart, blue and purple light appearing and expanding to reveal his study. Via stood up and grabbed her jackalope, tucking it under her arm. Stolas turned to look at Millie and Moxxie. “Thank you for letting me tag along today. Your family’s ranch is lovely - um, is it okay for me to call you Millie? Or is there something more formal you’d prefer?” Blitzø barked out a laugh.

“Millie is perfect,” Millie said, looking amused as well. “You can even call me Mills if you’d like.”

“And you can call Moxxie whatever you want,” Blitzø added. Moxxie rolled his eyes.

“Moxxie is preferred,” he said. Then he smiled at Stolas. “You should come by the office again sometime, your hi - I mean, Stolas.”

“You just want him to do your work for you,” Loona said.

“No I don’t!” Moxxie argued, slamming his hands on the table and shooting Loona a glare. Then he looked back at Stolas, clearing his throat. “But if you do want to sort through paperwork again, let me know. You have my number now,” he said, referencing the phone Blitzø gave him. Stolas smiled. 

“I just might,” he said. Blitzø groaned. 

“Okay, let’s split before my employees try to push more of their work on you,” he said, heading through the portal. Via approached the portal next, giving Loona a small wave.

“This was…nice,” she said, suddenly shy. Loona gave her a nod.

“Yeah, it was. Best of luck with everything. And remember my advice.” She gave Via a pointed look, and Via glanced at Stolas before going through the portal. 

“Bye Stolas! Take care of yourself!” Millie said, waving her arm. Stolas gave them all an appreciative smile and a small bow. Then he went through the portal as well, coming to stand in the middle of his study as the portal closed behind him. 

Warm light poured through the tall windows behind his desk. The golden railings spanning the left and right staircases to the upper level shone in the sunlight. Purple bookshelves lined the space, full of Stolas’ most important and powerful books. He approached his desk, running his fingers across the gold trim that lined the perimeter of it, containing symbols that represented the different phases of the moon. He noticed the trail of dust he created, and couldn’t help but smile bitterly. He had really taken his staff for granted all these years. He wondered if Blitzø would keep him company while he attempted to clean the place. 

“Why’d you portal us here?” Blitzø asked, and Stolas turned to see him looking up at the high ceiling, mouth agape. “Again, how fucking massive is this place? I need to stash some weapons in here, too.”

“It’s Dad’s study,” Via said. “Obviously. But I’m curious why we’re here, too.” Her expectant eyes were on him, jackalope still tucked under her arm. 

“There’s a book that came to mind while we were in Wrath,” Stolas explained, walking over to one of the bookshelves behind his desk. “One outlining all of the animals in the living world.” His eyes lit up when he spotted the spine of a thick, brown leather book. He used his magic to carefully remove it. Then he grabbed it from where it was floating in the air, about to open it, but his arms buckled slightly from its weight, a jolt of pain shooting up his arm and to his shoulder. 

“Hey,” Blitzø chided, suddenly at his side and taking the book from him. “Be careful.” 

“Ah yes, I forgot how heavy this book was,” Stolas confessed. But really, it was more like he hadn't realized how weak he was in his current state. This book never felt heavy to him before. He was beginning to grow impatient. The last time he was kidnapped he recovered a lot more quickly. What made this time so different? Did it have something to do with his strange condition? He furrowed his brow, concerned.

“Before you start reading,” Via began, still standing on the other side of the desk. “Can we talk?” 

“Oh? Yes, darling, of course. About something in particular?”

“Yeah,” Via said, shifting her stance and looking uncomfortable. It reminded Stolas of when she was small and was about to confess to doing something bad. It was always so adorable that Stolas couldn’t bring himself to discipline her for whatever she did, something Stella would always criticize him for. “Can we talk in private?” Stolas glanced at Blitzø, who had managed to carry the large book to Stolas’ desk, setting it down with a grunt. 

“Yes, let us step outside.” Stolas walked up to the large book and tapped his finger on the front cover, summoning his magic. Then he looked up at Blitzø. “Whatever words you run your finger across, a voice will read them aloud. I remember there being a section in here about horses that you may enjoy.” He paused, looking around at the many shelves of books. He raised his hands, pooling his magic and spreading it out towards the rest of the books. They all glowed for a moment as each book absorbed his magic. “That applies to any book here, now. So feel free to explore, if you’d like. And if you’d rather not, that is fine as well. I will be back.”

“Are you trying to turn me into some fuckin’ nerd by tempting me with horse facts?” Blitzø asked, raising a brow. Stolas smiled. Then he turned away from him, putting his hand on Via’s shoulder and leading them towards the door to the hallway. 

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth!” Stolas reminded him, opening the door with a wave of his arm. 

“Christ on a stick,” he heard Blitzø mutter as they stepped outside, the door closing behind them. Stolas hid his smile behind his hand, amusement warming his insides, a good kind of warmth, as opposed to the bad omen of eventual heat that he was acclimating to. Then he saw the expression on Via’s face. Why did she look so guilty?

“Via, what’s wrong?” he asked, hand still on her shoulder. She walked down the hall, leaving his reach, and he followed after her, that warmth now gone. She stopped once they were at the other end of the hall, turning to face him. She set the jackalope down on the nearest windowsill, holding her arms to her chest.

“Mum called,” she said quietly, and something about her tone made Stolas feel an icy dread in his veins, a cold fear that had him almost missing the burning heat.

Chapter Text

Horses don’t have a gag reflex. That’s essentially what Stolas’ massive book read aloud, in an overly posh voice that made Blitzø laugh when he first heard it. Because of course a voice Stolas conjured with magic would sound like that. 

“Due to the muscle’s location in the lower esophageal sphincter being much stronger than in other animals, it is nearly impossible for the valve to open under backward pressure from -”

Blitzø stopped his finger, looking up at the door Stolas and Octavia had left from as he sat in the high-backed, plush violet chair behind Stolas’ desk. He’d read through a decent amount of this section on horses and was starting to feel antsy, wondering when Stolas would come back, and what was taking them so long. He pushed back from the desk, moving to stand. 

“Ha, sphincter,” he said, voice echoing in the quiet, empty space. He put his hands behind his neck, wandering towards one of the bookshelves spanning the wall to see if anything would catch his eye. Many of the books were fucking huge, bound in thick, expensive-looking leather. They looked old and important, too. Blitzø wasn’t much of a reader. He thought it was boring as shit - he’d rather be doing something than sitting around. And, although he’d never admit it, he wasn’t taught how to read properly, so anything he could read were things he’d picked up over time, or things his mom had taught him and Barb before -

Blitzø shook his head, choosing to jump off that train of thought as his eyes scanned through big, fancy books. It wasn’t lost on Blitzø that Stolas used his magic to make sure he could look through any books he wanted, without worrying about whether he’d actually be able to read any of it. Stolas didn’t make it a big deal, either, or say something that made Blitzø feel small and stupid. Inferior. 

Some people would've thought it was an insignificant act. Others may have argued that Stolas was being condescending by assuming Blitzø needed the help - Blitzø himself probably would’ve seen it that way not too long ago - but after these past few days Blitzø was starting to understand that this was how Stolas expressed his care for others. He preferred actions more than words, which was surprising given how much of a nerd he was. Maybe he and Blitzø were similar in that way - they’d do anything for the people that mattered to them, but expressing that the person mattered to begin with was a lot fucking harder. Scarier, for sure, as much as Blitzø felt like a pussy for being scared by words.

Maybe that’s why Stolas never seemed to fully believe Blitzø whenever he said he cared about Stolas. It was a bunch of words, but where were the actions to back them up? Blitzø sighed. Then his eyes fell on a medium-sized book bound in a sturdy, scarlet cover. It had an image of two golden stars on the spine. He reached out, running a finger across the embossed letters.

“The Evolution of Binary Stars,” the posh voice read aloud, and Blitzø’s eyes widened slightly. He carefully pulled the book off the shelf, bringing it to Stolas' desk and setting it down. He opened it, still standing, and as he ran his finger along the pages he found a section that contained an alphabetical list of binary stars, with a blurb of information below each one. 

“Fuck, what was it called?” Blitzø muttered, turning the pages impatiently. “Alberto? Albeero?” 

“Albireo,” the voice read. Blitzø finally found it, fingertip resting on the word. He grinned.

“Gotcha,” he said, running his fingers along the short description. He was hoping to learn some cool new fact he could mention the next time they were looking at the stars. He imagined how impressed Stolas would be, that familiar, delighted look in his eyes as Blitzø taught him something for a change. Then he hesitated, stopping his finger at the part he already knew - that Albireo was part of the Swan constellation, and that the golden-red and blue stars looked like a double star, but weren’t, just like Stolas had said. 

The next time they were looking at the stars. Blitzø was planning for a next time. Why? Why was he planning for a future where they were still spending time together like they’d been the past few days? It was so fucking naive to think, consciously or subconsciously, that things could stay this way forever. And he wasn’t the naive type.

And yet, the voice had mentioned there being a footnote about Albireo on another page, and he found himself flipping through the book until he found it. He ran his finger across new words, as if he could find answers in this book about the cosmos that could help him untangle the mess in his own mind. 

“Although Albireo A and Albireo B do not make up a true binary star, Albireo A itself is, in fact, a binary star,” the posh voice read. “The stars are so close that it is difficult to view them as separate entities. They orbit around each other as well as move together across the sky. The brighter star - a red supergiant - is what gives Albireo A its golden color. Its mass is about 5 times that of the sun. Its smaller, hotter companion is a main sequence star, much like Earth’s sun, except blue in color. Investigations are being made as to whether there is an additional hidden star associated with this blue star, referred to as Albireo Ac, given Albireo A’s suspicious mass. Some researchers suggest that this additional, hidden star linked to Albireo Ac could be a black hole, although there is currently no confirmation -”

Blitzø stopped, looking down at the words that were just read aloud.

“Huh, so Alberto A has a companion after all,” Blitzø said, putting a hand on his hip. He wondered what Stolas would think about that, if he didn’t already know, that is. Would he be happy that Albireo had a binary star that was actually real? That there were two stars that existed so close, that were so in sync, that for a while people thought these two stars were one? Or would Stolas be disappointed to know that this golden-colored supergiant was tethered to something smaller and less impressive after all? Blitzø closed the book, putting it back on the shelf and looking around at the high ceilings. Once again Blitzø was hit by how huge and empty so many of the rooms in this palace felt, especially when Stolas wasn’t here with him. 

Was it better to be unattached and impressive, but alone? Or to be intertwined with something that made you burn brighter, but risk having that attachment bring a black hole with it? As Blitzø stood in the middle of Stolas’ study, gaze landing on the phases of the moon carved into Stolas’ desk, he wasn’t sure what the right answer was. He glanced over at the large, ornate doors again, wondering when Stolas would come back, and what Octavia had to tell him. 

Then the study was filled with the sound of ringing and screaming, Blitzø feeling an insistent vibration in his pocket. 

“I need to change this fucking ringtone,” Blitzø grumbled, pulling out his phone. Fizz was calling. He quickly answered it, holding his phone up to his ear.

“Tell me you and Ozz have good news,” Blitzø said, cutting to the chase. 

“Ooo, concerned for your ex-boyfriend, I see,” Fizz teased. Blitzø rolled his eyes. 

“Piss on a dick, Fizz. More like I’m wondering what the fuck’s been taking you guys so long," he replied, putting his weight on one hip. 

“Ozzie’s been working very hard, thank you very much,” Fizz said, putting a level of brattiness in his voice that Blitzø was all too familiar with. “He’s been so busy picking apart that weird bullet and running tests that we’ve barely been having sex -”

“Oh, so only once a day instead of five?” Blitzø asked, brow raised. “What a sacrifice.” 

“Please, more like five times a day instead of twenty,” Fizz corrected, sounding smug. “This is the King of Lust we’re talking about.” 

“Well shit, color me impressed, Fizz,” Blitzø said. “Didn’t know you had it in you. You were such a prude when we were teens -”

“You only say that because I didn’t fuck you,” Fizz shot back. 

“Can’t blame me for trying, though,” he said with a shrug. Fizz scoffed. “Now tell me what’s going on. How do we fix the weird shit that’s been happening to Stolas?”

“First, what exactly has been happening since you two left?” Fizz asked. “That thing that happened here at our place - has it happened again?” Blitzø rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t like thinking about finding Stolas in the kitchen, or seeing him on the ground in the mine shaft. 

“Yeah, a few times,” Blitzø finally said. He exhaled. “We think it has something to do with physical touch. Seems like when he’s left alone for too long his body freaks the fuck out and the only thing that helps is someone touching him -”

“And what do you mean by ‘touching’?” Fizz asked. “Like, how kinky are we talking here?” Blitzø rolled his eyes.

“Like zero, Fizz, very PG. I’ve basically just had to hug him for a few minutes, or, you know, hold his hand or whatever the fuck,” Blitzø explained. He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his stance. He’d find it less embarrassing if he could say he fucked Stolas’ pain away, instead of admitting to doing this affectionate shit. It made Blitzø feel exposed in a way he really disliked.

“Oh,” Fizz said, sounding disappointed. Then he let out a laugh. “Is everyone at I.M.P. vanilla as fuck? Your employees almost gave Ozzie an aneurysm when they went to his club -”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” Blitzø said, cutting him off. “Maybe those two monogamous freaks are, but I’m far from vanilla, Fizz. You could’ve known that yourself if you ever took me up on one of my offers.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Fizz said dryly. “Anyway, I’m asking because Ozzie's currently checking something out in the Pride ring. He found some residue in the bullet that’s similar to those shitty love potions that some random bitch has been selling without his permission.” 

“So he got hit with some kind of love potion bullet?” Blitzø asked. Was that why Stolas had been treating him differently? Was manufactured ‘love’ the only reason that Stolas acted like he enjoyed Blitzø being by his side? Blitzø furrowed his brow. It’d make a lot of sense. After everything Blitzø had done, why would Stolas still want him in his life if it wasn’t because of some fucked-up love potion? It was a relief, honestly. It meant that they could cure him and then Stolas and Blitzø could go about their separate lives, like they’d been doing for the past few months before this mess happened. 

“Not exactly,” Fizz said. “Whatever that cowboy shot him with didn’t change anything about his thoughts or feelings, but something about his body,” he explained, and that’s when Blitzø felt true relief, although he didn’t want to admit it. Because it was easier to write off Stolas’ actions as being forced, than to confront the fact that Stolas was being so nice to him because he wanted to. “At least, that’s what Ozzie thinks. It seems like it’s some kind of curse that won’t go away until some condition is met. I figured it’s that the prince needs to get dicked down, but maybe not.”

“Shit, okay,” Blitzø said. “I mean, he hasn’t been super horny or anything. He’s actually been a lot less horny than usual.” 

“Maybe you just haven’t been turning him on,” Fizz suggested. “You know, foreplay can go a long way, Blitzø -” Blitzø scoffed.

“I’m well aware, asshole.”

“Knowing and doing are two different things,” Fizz pointed out. Blitzø rolled his eyes. “Let’s think, then. When Stolas’ body - what did you say? ‘Freaks the fuck out’,” he quoted. “What’s the least common denominator?”

“The what?” Blitzø asked. “Why the fuck are you bringing math into this, Fizz -?” Fizz let out an exasperated noise. 

“I’ll spell it out for you -”

“Now you’re switching to spelling -?”

“Dammit, Blitzø,” Fizz said, impatient. “When Stolas doesn’t feel like shit, what’s the same? And when he does feel like shit, what’s different? What changes?” Blitzø considered that. Stolas started to burn up when he was left alone for too long, more specifically, when he wasn’t in contact with anyone for too long. But that wasn’t quite right. He’d been riding with that farmhand fuck for a while, and yet he still collapsed when he should’ve been fine. What ended up helping was when Blitzø touched him again -

Blitzø’s eyes widened. Was it him? Was Blitzø this least common whatever-the-fuck? But why ? 

“Hello? Did your brain overheat?” Fizz asked. 

“No, dickhead, I’m just thinking.” Blitzø furrowed his brow, wondering if he should tell Fizz the truth or not. A part of him wanted to. He wanted to confide in him like he used to when they were younger, before everything went to shit. But what if Blitzø was one of those stars tethered to a black hole? Wouldn’t it be better to keep to his own orbit, and leave everyone else alone, instead of forcing them into his own mess? “I don’t know,” Blitzø ended up saying, because he was a coward. 

“That’s fine, just wondering,” Fizz said. “Ozzie will have it all figured out by the time he comes back. We can update you then.”

“Thanks,” Blitzø said, hearing the somber tone in his own voice. He winced.

“Uh, you good, Blitzø?” Fizz asked, clearly hearing it as well. “Must be weird being your ex’s bodyguard.” Blitzø pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he was thoughtful for a moment. 

“It’s - not as bad as I thought it’d be,” he found himself confessing. 

“Oh?” Fizz asked, his tone pissing Blitzø off. He dropped his hand from his face.

“I never - it’s not like I - I didn’t hate spending time with him before -” he tried to explain, waving his arm.

“Oh yeah? Because I remember you calling him a fake, privileged, asshole when were in that cage -”

“And he was,” Blitzø said. “Or, I thought he was. But even then, I - whatever, nevermind,” he finished, rolling his eyes. He regretting saying anything to begin with.

“Hm. Maybe I should spend some quality time with the prince,” Fizz suggested, “if he’s such a delight to be around.” Blitzø scoffed.

“Are you saying you want to stop by?”

“It’s so lonely here without my Ozzie,” Fizz whined. “I’m bored out of my fucking mind, too.”

“I’ll ask Stolas. I’m fine with it, but it’s his place, so,” Blitzø said with a shrug.

“Sure I won’t be third wheeling?” Fizz teased. 

“You won’t,” he said, unamused. “His daughter’s here too, so it’s not like it’s just the two of us -”

“Otherwise you’d be fucking in every room, right?” 

“The fuck? No, Fizz. This is a job -” Fizz scoffed.

“There are many jobs that are extremely sexual,” Fizz pointed out. “Hand jobs, foot jobs -”

“Oh eat a dick, Fizz,” Blitzø said, putting a hand on his hip. 

“Yeah, blow jobs, I was getting to that one.” Blitzø let out a groan.

“I’m hanging up, pervert.”

“Let me know if I can come over tomorrow,” Fizz requested in a sing-song voice.

“Fine, now fuck off,” Blitzø said, hanging up. He put his phone in his pocket, rubbing his temples. Fizz could be such an annoying bitch sometimes. But it was nice that they could talk like this. It was almost as if no time had passed, even though so much had changed. Blitzø thought that broken things could never be fixed. But maybe, sometimes, it was possible to salvage something good. Maybe it could be worth fighting for that possibility. He exhaled, relaxing the tension in his shoulders. Then the door to the study burst open.

“There you are!” Stolas said, using one arm to lean against the doorframe as he wobbled, a glass bottle of some clear liquid sloshing around in his other hand. He looked at Blitzø from across the room with unfocused eyes, grinning. “I forgot where my study was. How silly of me. Although you’re right, this place is fucking massive.” He giggled as Blitzø watched him in confusion.

“Uh, Stols, you doing okay?” he asked, slowly walking towards him. Stolas took a long swig from the bottle he was holding, wiping his mouth afterwards with the back of his hand. 

“Pssht, yeah, of course,” Stolas said. “Never been better!”

“Where’s Via?” Blitzø asked. Stolas’ smile wavered, but then he grinned and tried to walk forward.

“Whoops!” he said as he tripped, Blitzø quickly moving to catch him. 

“Stolas, what the fuck is going on?” Blitzø asked as he held this lanky-ass bird off the ground. It was as if they were ballroom dancing and Blitzø had decided to dip him, but a lot less elegant-looking. Stolas was light as hell, but his limbs were flopping everywhere. Stolas seemed unconcerned, though, giggling as he moved to stand, wobbling again but at least he was upright. He leaned down to boop Blitzø's nose.

“I’m being messy, Blitzø,” he said, as if that explained everything. Blitzø gave him an unamused look.

“I can see that, Stols, but why?” 

“Because you told me to, duh,” Stolas said, giggling again. Blitzø raised a brow.

“And you just do everything I tell you to?”

“I do enjoy following your orders,” Stolas whispered in Blitzø’s ear. There was a sexy quality to his voice that made Blitzø swallow thickly. Then Stolas fell forwards, Blitzø barely managing to catch him before he hit the tiles. “Thank you, darling,” Stolas said, still holding Blitzø’s hand as he righted himself. He took another swig from his bottle. Blitzø cursed himself for liking the way Stolas called him ‘darling’. 

“What’s in that?” Blitzø asked. He reached for it, but Stolas moved away from him, doing a few spins around the room. Then he stopped, desk now between them, and gave Blitzø a devilish grin.

“Absinthe. Want some?” 

“Shit, Stolas, you trying to get fucked up?” Stolas shrugged.

“Why not? We’re just hangin’ ‘round for the night, aren’t we?” He was starting to slur his words.

“What we’re doing is changing those bandages,” Blitzø said firmly, looking at the dried spot of blood on Stolas chest. He walked around the desk, reaching up on the balls of his feet to wipe the volcanic ash from Stolas’ cheek. “And we’re gonna get cleaned up, okay?”

“I told you I’m fine,” Stolas whined, but Blitzø crossed his arms, looking up at him.

“Oh, so you don’t want to get into the bath with me. Fine, I just thought you liked it when we -” Before Blitzø could get another word in Stolas opened a portal and pushed them both through. Suddenly they were standing in Stolas’ bathroom. Blitzø had been in here one or two times before, when they’d both been in the mood for some thorough aftercare. He still couldn’t get over how fucking fancy it was. Walls covered in deep purple drapes with gold tassels, a large mirror lined with glowing lights shaped like flowers, a purple and golden bathtub with melted candles attached to the rim. There were even constellations floating across the drapes. It was ridiculous and over-the-top, but Blitzø secretly thought it was cool as hell. 

“Where do you keep your bandages?” Blitzø asked, walking over to the mirror and bending down to open drawers. He tried to hide his smug grin. Stolas played right into his hands so easily. He also tried to ignore the spark of excitement he felt knowing that Stolas was still so eager to get into a bath with him. Because friends didn’t usually do that.

“I can’t remember,” Stolas said, tapping his chin. “I only really need them for gardening, so maybe I left them with my tools?” Blitzø continued to snoop through his vanity drawer anyway, furrowing his brow when he saw a half empty prescription bottle. He pulled it out, setting it on the counter. Then he turned to face Stolas, who was gulping down the rest of his absinthe. Blitzø winced. He was going to have a horrible hangover tomorrow if he kept going at that pace. Blitzø knew that from personal experience. 

“What’s this? You never mentioned popping pills,” Blitzø said, straightening his back and nodding at the prescription bottle.

“Hm?” Stolas asked, blinking at him in confusion. Then his eyes fell on the prescription bottle. Blitzø watched him frown. Then he laughed, waving a hand. “Those help take the edge off.” Blitzø looked at him in confusion.

“Off of what?”

“Oh, life, I suppose,” Stolas said with a shrug, placing the empty glass bottle on the counter next to the pills and placing a hand down to steady himself. Blitzø watched as Stolas looked at his reflection, then quickly looked away. “When he had our nights of fornication -”

“Christ on a stick, Stols, just say we fucked,” Blitzø said, rolling his eyes as he leaned his back against the counter, facing away from the mirror but still keeping his eyes on Stolas. He was expecting to have to reach out and catch him again any moment now.

“Fine. When we fucked I found myself feeling better,” Stolas said. “Then I realized that simply being around you made me feel better. Not a - Lucifer, what’s it called? Not a panacea per se, I still needed my medication from time to time, but I felt less like I was drifting towards a black hole.” he confessed, waving his hand in a circular motion as he tried to explain. He was still smiling, but Blitzø could hear a note of bitterness there. He considered Stolas’ words.

“A boundary where nothing can escape, not even light,” Blitzø said quietly. Stolas eyes lit up.

“You remembered!” he said, sounding delighted. Blitzø shrugged, looking away and suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I ran out of them right before our fight on the full moon,” Stolas continued, beginning to ramble. “Terrible fucking timing, in retrospect,” he said with a laugh. “I’ve been taking them again, but the past few days have been so hectic that it’s slipped my mind.” Blitzø wondered if Stolas would be confessing all of this if he wasn’t tipsy. Was he only tipsy? It was hard to tell. He drank a fuck-ton of absinthe. 

A silence hung in the air, Blitzø unsure of what to say. It definitely put some things in context, and made Blitzø feel like an even bigger asshole. It wasn’t too long ago when he was convinced that Stolas’ life was a fucking fairy tale. Blitzø, their arrangement, that was the blemish on Stolas’ perfect, royal existence. He remembered the tears in Stolas’ eyes when he sent Blitzø away on the full moon. Apparently he’d kicked Stolas when he was already down, not while he was on some high horse he assumed Stolas existed on. He still stood by some of what he said, but now he wished he'd been less cruel. Maybe that night would've ended differently. 

“What the fuck is a pana-whatever?” Blitzø found himself asking, looking at the prescription bottle. He was finding it difficult to meet Stolas’ gaze, the guilt gnawing at him. Stolas opened a small portal and reached his hand in, pulling out a roll of bandages and placing them on the counter. Then he opened another small portal, pulling out a new bottle of alcohol. It was brown liquor this time.

“A remedy for all difficulties,” Stolas explained patiently, always so happy to teach without judgement. It made Blitzø feel even worse. Stolas sighed, loosening the black bandana around his neck before slowly pulling it off and letting it fall to the floor. Blitzø tried to ignore how enticing that simple action was, clearing this throat and reaching to grab the bandage roll. “Shouldn’t I clean my wounds first?” Stolas asked, watching him. Shit, right.

“I was just making sure there’s enough,” Blitzø lied. He walked over to the bathtub, turning the water on. Then he turned back to Stolas and put his hands on his hips. “Come over here.”

“Okay!” Stolas said happily, practically skipping over to him as he took a drink from his new bottle. 

“Lemme try that,” Blitzø said, holding out his hand. Stolas handed him the bottle and Blitzø took a swig. His throat immediately burned, eyes watering as he tried not to cough. He could handle his liquor better than most, but Satan’s asshole that was strong whiskey. “Fuck, Stolas, trying to disinfect your insides?”

“You make a good point - maybe if I drink enough it’ll burn away whatever’s going on with me,” Stolas offered, eagerly moving to take the bottle back. Blitzø quickly held it out of reach.

“I highly doubt it, but maybe we can try after we get you cleaned up,” he compromised, setting the bottle down on the floor. 

“Blitzø -” Stolas whined, but Blitzø gently grabbed his hands and Stolas stopped, blinking at him with wide, innocent eyes. 

“Strip and sit, bitch,” Blitzø said. “Just the vest, for now.” Stolas smiled and shrugged off his vest, moving to sit on the tiled floor. 

“Are you sure I shouldn’t take off more?” he asked, feigning innocence as he looked up at Blitzø and batted his eyes. Blitzø would be lying if that didn’t turn him on, but he wasn’t so desperate that his resolve would crumble from one look. He reached over to turn the faucet off, the bathtub now full of water.

“Just follow orders,” Blitzø said. “That’s the best quality in a good employee, you know. It’s why Moxxie sucks ass most of the time.” He sat down across from Stolas, reaching over to place his hands on Stolas’ shoulder, searching for the end of the bandage. Once he found it he began to unravel it carefully, dropping it to the floor and taking a look at the knife wound. He clenched his jaw once he saw it - Stolas was normally able to heal relatively quickly, he’d learned that early on in their full moon arrangement, pissed that his hickeys didn’t last very long and refusing to reflect on why that bothered him - but Blitzø could see the fresh, blackish-blue gash, deeper than it was wide. He also noticed scar tissue, realizing that it was probably from the last time Striker had kidnapped him. “Shit, Stolas,” Blitzø said, shaking his head as he felt his anger and frustration simmer. Stolas put a gentle hand on Blitzø’s cheek, smiling at him.

“It looks worse than it feels,” Stolas assured him, but that made Blitzø feel even shittier. Why was Stolas comforting him when he was the one who kept getting hurt?

“Whatever,” Blitzø muttered, moving Stolas’ hand away from his cheek so he could unwrap the bandages around Stolas’ chest. As he worked, he reached a point where he couldn’t resist glancing up at Stolas’ face, and found Stolas already looking down at him, watching as Blitzø’s arms were practically wrapped around him in a hug.

“Hi,” Stolas said softly, giving him a dumb-looking smile. Blitzø scoffed, drinking in the sight of Stolas up-close for a moment longer before putting his head back down and returning to the task at hand. It took a bit longer than the other bandage - there was a lot more to unravel, but he eventually reached the end, dropping the bandage and finally seeing this gunshot wound for himself. His eyes immediately blew wide. He was too shocked to even curse this time, feeling his anger quickly reaching a boiling point.

He was more determined than ever to fucking murder that shit-eating cowboy.

“Is it that bad?” Stolas asked, glancing over at the mirror and moving to stand. Blitzø put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He took a deep breath. Now was not the time to be angry and freak Stolas out. He’d save it for when he saw Striker next.

“Let’s just…focus on getting you cleaned up, okay?” Blitzø said quietly. “You can look at it later, if you want.” Stolas pouted, but he sat back down, waiting patiently. Blitzø found it hard to tear his eyes away from Stolas’ chest. Flesh was torn in places, forming a gruesome five-point star and revealing a deep, charcoal-colored wound about the size of Blitzø’s fist. Blitzø had a feeling that if he rested his fingertips against it, it’d be hot to the touch.

He remembered Ozzie saying that Stolas being alive was some kind of miracle. Blitzø had been tempted to say that miracles don’t happen in Hell, but looking at this wound for himself, he could understand the sentiment. This didn’t look like the kind of injury anyone, even a demon prince, could simply recover from. Blitzø thought about his own wounds, the white marks on his body that would always be there to remind him of his biggest regret, and his greatest loss. His wounds healed eventually, but left him scarred in more ways than one. And yet here Stolas was, as soft and attentive as ever, acting as if what happened to him was an embarrassing inconvenience when Blitzø would be raging at the unfairness of it all. Was Stolas just that strong? Or maybe there was a part of Stolas, not so different from Blitzø after all, that thought he deserved it. Blitzø really hoped it was the first one.

“Blitzø?” Stolas asked softly, still blinking at him, his gaze curious. 

“Shit, right,” Blitzø said, moving to stand and helping Stolas to his feet. “Let’s get you in the bath.”

“Aren’t you joining me?” Stolas asked, on the verge of pouting again as Blitzø held his hand, keeping him steady. “You’re dirty, too.”

“I can get clean later,” Blitzø said. He placed his other hand in the water, making sure it wasn’t too cold.

“I don’t want you to,” Stolas said, letting go of his hand to cross his arms. “Won’t you join me, Blitzø? I won’t take a bath unless you join me,” he decided, wobbling where he stood in defiance. Blitzø scoffed. 

“You can be a real bratty drunk, you know that?” Stolas only continued to pout, not budging. Blitzø ran a hand down his face, letting out an impatient sigh. “Fine.”

“Splendid!” Stolas said, clapping his hands. In one fluid motion he took off his pants, getting in the tub. Blitzø scoffed again, feeling a surge of fondness as he undressed, adding his clothes to the pile of Stolas’ clothes before joining him in the tub. He dunked his head under, and when he resurfaced, wiping the water from his eyes, he noticed Stolas smiling at him, wet feathers sticking out in funny angles. Without thinking, Blitzø reached over to smooth them out.

“What’s with the dorky-ass grin?” Blitzø asked, dropping his hand in the water once he was done. “Is it because you got your way?”

“Maybe,” Stolas admitted, still grinning. “Or maybe I just like spending time with you.” 

“What’s not to like? I’m a fucking delight,” Blitzø joked, but Stolas nodded in such sincere agreement that it threw Blitzø off. “Hand me that bottle,” he directed, and Stolas magicked the bottle of whiskey over to him. He took a hefty swig. Stolas took it from him when he was done, downing a few gulps himself. 

“Octavia’s having dinner with her mother right now,” Stolas said, and Blitzø choked.

“T-the fuck?” he said between coughs. He cleared his throat, feeling the burn from the whiskey deep in his throat. “What the fuck happened?” Stolas let out a laugh, although there was no actual joy in it.

“Stella called her while we were doing that job,” he explained. “She said she wanted Via to stay with her, saying something about me being unfit to take care of her -”

“That whore-ass bitch,” Blitzø said, seething, hands gripping the edges of the tub. Stolas took another swig. “You’re doing just fine, even after she hired someone to shoot a damn hole in your chest -”

“Via assured me that she doesn’t agree with her, but she did offer to meet her for dinner,” Stolas said, frowning. “She - she’s convinced that it’ll help, but I’m worried.” 

“Grab my phone,” Blitzø said, nodding towards the pile of clothes. Stolas used his magic to remove it from Blitzø’s pocket, and Blitzø watched as it floated towards him. He grabbed it once it was in reach. “Where are they meeting?”

“The Richest Cup,” Stolas said. Blitzø scrunched up his nose in disgust. 

“I fucking hate that place. Full of privileged assholes,” Blitzø said, typing out a message on his phone. “I’m asking M&M and Loona if anyone can keep an eye on her,” he explained, pressing send. He glanced up to see Stolas take another swig of whiskey, sliding further into the water and looking down at the ripples he created. 

“It’s where Striker showed up to kidnap me the first time,” Stolas said quietly. “That place is yet another thing I never considered to be wrong until recently, like a fool. Via thought it’d be a good choice because it’s public. It’s also full of people Stella knows and wouldn’t want to cause a scene in front of.”

“Smart,” Blitzø said, and Stolas nodded. Then Blitzø’s phone buzzed. It was a message from Loona.

I’ll keep an eye on her. Blitzø smiled. Then there was another buzz. A message from Moxxie. 

She’s just trying to skip out on the work I asked her to do

Eat a dick, snitch. You’re not my boss.

IS A LITTLE RESPECT IN THE WORKPLACE TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR??

Blitzø scoffed, sending a ‘thcx’ and tossing his phone to land on top of their clothes.

“Loona will be around in case things go south,” Blitzø said. He reached to grab the bottle from Stolas, taking a swig. “It’ll be fine, Stols.” Stolas exhaled.

“Thank you, Blitzø. I really appreciate it.” Blitzø waved him off.

“Via’s a good kid. Is that why you started drinking?” he asked, holding up the bottle in his hand. Stolas took the bottle from him, tipping his head back and finishing it off. He set it on the floor, and then met Blitzø’s gaze. His cheeks were flushed from the alcohol. 

“No. Well, yes, I mean -” Stolas tried to explain. He put a hand on his forehead, shaking his head a little. 

“Hey,” Blitzø said, wading closer to him. “Let’s not worry too much right now, okay? Everything’ll be fine. It’s time to focus on getting you clean.” He reached past Stolas to grab the bar of soap resting on the lid of the tub behind him. He shook it in the air a little for Stolas to see, giving him a smirk. Stolas managed to smile back, moving his hand away from his face. Blitzø waded a bit closer to him, putting the bar of soap on Stolas’ chest, careful not to put it directly on either of his wounds. He started to scrub gently, creating a lather and spreading it across Stolas’ body, cleaning off the dirt and ash from a day of being shitty cowboys. Stolas let out a pleased hum, relaxing under his touch as he let Blitzø do as he pleased. “We really got dirty, huh?” Blitzø observed, moving to clean Stolas’ arms. He was beginning to feel a slight buzz from the alcohol, even after only a few sips. He wondered how Stolas wasn’t hammered right now.

“This isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted to be messy,” Stolas lamented, and Blitzø let out a laugh. 

“Oh yeah?” Blitzø lifted his gaze to meet Stolas’ ruby eyes, and found, yet again, that Stolas was already watching him. He hadn’t realized how close they’d gotten, their bodies less than a foot apart, the warm water pulling them together in one moment, and pushing them apart the next. His hands were covered in soapy bubbles, and he tapped Stolas’ beak with one of his fingers, grinning when he saw a clump of bubbles stick to it when he pulled away. Stolas blinked at him in surprise. “What exactly did you mean? And don’t tell me you planned to do nerdy shit like unalphabetize your books -” before Blitzø could finish his sentence Stolas mouth was on his.

The bar of soap slipped out of Blitzø’s hand, plopping into the water. Stolas’ went to cup Blitzø’s face as he moved forward, gently pushing Blitzø backwards until Blitzø felt the curved edge of the tub against his spine. It was dizzying how easily they got into a rhythm, Stolas licking into his mouth, opening him up as his tongue started to explore, breath hot and heavy. Blitzø heard the broken gasps that escaped his own mouth, too turned on to be embarrassed by how much he wanted this. His hands moved through the water to rest on Stolas’ hips, pulling him closer. Stolas let out a pleased sigh and removed a hand from Blitzø’s cheek, moving to stroke one of his horns in such a way that Blitzø shuddered, biting Stolas’ bottom lip in retaliation. 

“Blitzø,” Stolas gasped, now slowly scratching the base of Blitzø’s horn, in time with the slow glide of his tongue in Blitzø’s mouth. Blitzø wrapped his tail around Stolas’ small waist, using it to hold him there as he explored the rest of Stolas’ body with his hands, one hand gently grabbing Stolas’ neck, the other running down one of Stolas’ long legs to stop at his thigh, rubbing small circles with his thumb, quickly making Stolas putty in his hands. 

‘When did Stolas get so fucking good at this?’ Blitzø found himself wondering, his thoughts scattered and fuzzy, distracted by the way Stolas was making him feel. It’s like he’d been taking notes this whole damn time, learning all the things that Blitzø liked, that turned him on. Blitzø hadn’t had such an attentive lover before, and never expected such expertise from someone like Stolas, who’d never even kissed anyone until Blitzø.  

Stolas ran his hand down Blitzø’s chest, placing his long fingers on Blitzø’s lower back, applying a delicious amount of pressure that had Blitzø fucking melting. Blitzø moaned into Stolas’ mouth, squeezing the hand around Stolas’ neck slightly until Stolas shivered in response, baring his neck so Blitzo could have better access. They started kissing with a renewed vigor, licking and sucking in a way that was utterly depraved and exactly the way Blitzø liked it, sensual and slow at first, as if they had all the time in the world, and then hot and hungry, as if it was the last kiss in Hell. He could taste the whiskey and absinthe on Stolas’ tongue, could feel the heat in his mouth, and somehow it was more intoxicating than the strong-as-fuck alcohol. But then an irritating thought eventually reached his hazy brain. 

He loosened his tail around Stolas’ waist, dropping the hand around Stolas’ neck to rest on his arm, pushing away slightly. Stolas mouth chased after him, and then his eyes opened in confusion when he couldn’t find Blitzø’s lips. Blitzø expected Stolas to ask him a question, curiosity in his ruby eyes, but then he moved to kiss Blitzø’s neck instead, dragging his tongue across his skin and leaving a trail of small bites.

“S-stols,” Blitzø managed to say, Stolas’ mouth moving down his neck. “You’re drunk.”

“Hm, maybe a little,” Stolas confessed, winding his arms around Blitzø’s torso to hold him close.

“And I’m not,” Blitzø said. “A little tipsy, maybe, but not as drunk as you.”

“I have a high tolerance,” Stolas said between kisses, and Blitzø laughed, feeling soft feathers tickle his collarbone.

“Not high enough that you’re fine after all that.” Then he felt fingers find the tip of his tail, and soon Stolas’ pointer finger and thumb were rubbing the triangular-shaped end, sending electricity up Blitzø’s spine in such a way that had him seeing white. 

“Fuck, Stolas,” Blitzø breathed, leaning his weight back against the tub as Stolas continued to rub the end of his tail, still kissing and biting his neck. It was getting really hard to stop this, any resolve he had left quickly disappearing. 

“If you’re worried about taking advantage of me,” Stolas whispered in Blitzø’s ear, resting his free hand on the lid of the tub behind Blitzø, caging him in, “then how about you just sit back and take the pleasure I give you?” Blitzø was breathing heavy now, turning his face to catch the edges of Stolas’ devilish smile. He’d gotten a lot better at the dirty talk, fucking hell.

“I guess I did say that - that you could do whatever you needed to do,” Blitzø managed to say, so turned on that it was getting harder to form coherent sentences. He didn’t remember ever feeling quite like this. He preferred being the one in control. He was better, more confident, that way. So why was he liking this so much? Stolas kissed the corner of Blitzø’s mouth, and Blitzø cupped his cheek, finding Stolas’ mouth as they started to kiss again. Blitzø could feel something slow and sincere building between them, a feeling that excited Blitzø, but also fucking terrified him. “Maybe friends can fuck each other, after all,” Blitzø decided to joke between kisses, trying to ease his fear that he was on the precipice of falling into something he couldn’t come back from. Maybe it would even be okay to fall. Then he felt Stolas freeze under his touch. He opened his eyes to see Stolas looking away, brow furrowed, a conflicted expression on his face. “Hey,” Blitzø said, hand still on Stolas’ cheek. “Something wrong?”

“Are we friends?” Stolas asked, and Blitzø’s eyes widened slightly. Then he laughed. 

“I thought we established that a few days ago,” he said with a smile. Stolas frowned. Then he met Blitzø’s gaze, a new vulnerability in those wide, ruby eyes.

“And we’re doing…this,” Stolas said, gesturing between the two of them, “you’re letting me do this,” he corrected, “because it might make me feel better?”

“Is it?” Blitzø asked, curious, but based on Stolas’ expression that was the wrong response. He gently slid his hands off of Blitzø’s body and pulled away, creating some distance between them. 

“I think I’m too drunk to tell,” Stolas confessed with a laugh, but why did it sound like he was about to cry? 

“Okay,” Blitzø said slowly, not understanding why it suddenly felt like he did something wrong. It ignited the defensiveness in him, something that was always lurking below the surface. He opened his mouth to say more, to ask what the fuck was going on, but then Stolas got out of the tub, his robe floating over from a hook in the corner. He put in on, and Blitzø watched him in confusion.

“I believe I’m all clean now,” Stolas said, back to him. Blitzø felt a flash of irritation. 

“Something’s clearly bothering you,” Blitzø said, clenching his fists where they were hidden underwater. Stolas exhaled.

“I’m - I just…I think had the wrong idea, that’s all,” Stolas said. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Blitzø asked. Stolas hunched in on himself.

“Nevermind, it was silly of me. I think I just need to rest -”

“Fuck that!” Blitzø said, quickly moving to stand, and he noticed the way Stolas flinched in response. His eyes widened, and then he remembered something that was bugging him back at Striker’s old hideout. “You said it was a reflex before,” Blitzø said slowly, tone gentler this time. Stolas turned to look at him. “What’d you mean by that?” He watched as Stolas bit his lip, eyes looking shinier than they did moments before, as if he was on the verge of tears.

“Oh, um,” Stolas said, voice wavering as he held his arms to his chest, reminding Blitzø so much of Via in that moment. He took a slow breath in, giving himself a moment to exhale as Blitzø waited. “I - it wasn’t anything related to you, Blitzø, to be clear. You’ve never - I’ve always felt safe with you.” Blitzø watched him in confusion. Stolas used his magic to bring another robe over to them, and then he held out his hand. Blitzø took it, and Stolas helped him out of the tub, the robe floating over to Blitzø. Blitzø understood, holding out his arms as the robe wrapped around him. It was comically large on him, but Blitzø didn’t feel like cracking a joke at the moment. It didn’t look like Stolas was in the mood, either, that giggly, drunk energy having suddenly soured into something somber and flighty. 

“Someone’s made you feel unsafe,” Blitzø said, able to at least connect those dots. “And I’m guessing I know who that is. Stolas, did that bitch do more than hire people to hurt you?” Stolas let out a surprised laugh, one drenched in bitterness as he continued to hug himself. 

“It was never too bad,” Stolas explained, and Blitzø’s eyes widened further. “Never enough to leave a mark that didn’t heal relatively quickly. She’d just get angry and lash out from time to time. Sometimes I’d just let it happen, because at least she’d calm down a bit afterwards, but it’s still hard not to flinch, sometimes.” Stolas must have noticed something in Blitzø’s expression, because his eyes widened as well. “It’s fine! I’m only telling you this because I don’t want you to think that I think that you’d ever - or that I - oh, I don’t know,” Stolas said, giving up on his explanation. “It’s fine, really. Especially now that she doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Shit, Stolas,” Blitzø said, the robe sliding off his shoulder as he looked up at him. He noticed the puddle of water they’d created on the bathroom tiles.

“That robe is simply too big on you,” Stolas observed, trying to bite back a small smile without being obvious, but the amusement in his eyes gave it away. Blitzø scoffed, amazed that Stolas could be commenting on something so trivial after explaining all that. He stubbornly pulled the robe back over his shoulder, putting his hands on his lips. 

“I need to put new bandages on you,” Blitzø said, and Stolas looked over at the mirror, where the roll of bandages was still sitting on the counter. Blitzø noticed his hesitation.

“Okay,” Stolas finally said. A few moments later Blitzø was sitting on the vanity counter, Stolas’ robe now only hanging around his waist as he stood in front of Blitzø, Blitzø wrapping the clean bandages around Stolas’ chest, and then around his shoulder. He worked efficiently, refusing to linger over any part of Stolas’ body as he tried not to think about the things Stolas had been doing to him only minutes ago. But it also felt like a lifetime ago, or as if it’d been some kind of dream, and now they were back to reality. There were many times that Blitzø wanted to probe what made Stolas pull away as he was putting on the bandages, but Blitzø bit his tongue each time. He was afraid to know the answer, afraid of Stolas putting even more distance between them for asking, or for reminding Stolas of how Blitzø fucked up, even though he still didn’t understand what he did. But that was worse, wasn’t it? Fucking up and not even recognizing what the fuck-up was? 

Once Blitzø was done Stolas put his arms back through the sleeves of his robe. They stayed like that for a moment, neither of them quite knowing what to say. Blitzø was too in his own head, worried about saying the wrong thing as he sat on the vanity counter, Stolas in front of him but out of reach. 

“It’s occurred to me that I’ve never spent so much time with company,” Stolas finally said, not meeting Blitzø’s gaze. “I didn’t realize how accustomed I was to spending much of my time alone.”

“Oh,” Blitzø said. He felt like he should say more but wasn’t sure what Stolas wanted to hear. 

‘I can always do better.' He remembered telling Stolas that during their last full moon, before he instigated a fight, before he convinced himself that Stolas was joking when he said he cared about him and wanted him to stay if he wanted to - before Blitzø fucked up. Because he couldn’t do better, after all. 

“I think I need some time to myself right now,” Stolas confessed, and Blitzø looked at him in surprise. “I just need a moment to process the past few days, to sort out my thoughts,” he explained, almost pleading, as if he needed Blitzø to give him permission.

“What if -” Blitzø found himself saying, a selfish part of him not wanting to grant the permission he had no right to give. “You haven’t been alone for a reason -”

“I know,” Stolas said, looking down so that Blitzø could not longer see his expression, but he could still see the way Stolas was fidgeting with his hands. “I feel fine right now, and I can message you the moment that changes, thanks to the phone you gave me,” he said. He raised his eyes to meet Blitzø’s gaze, a sadness in his expression that Blitzø still didn’t understand.

“I can’t tell you what to do, Stolas,” Blitzø said, shaking his head. “You don’t need my permission, and it’s not like you owe me anything. This is your palace, for fuck’s sake.”

“Perhaps, but I still wanted to, to -” Stolas sighed, slumping his shoulders. “I don’t know. I felt like I should say all of that regardless.”

“Okay,” Blitzø said. “Yeah, text me if you need me and I’ll come find you.” Stolas nodded, moving towards the exit to the bathroom, but then he stopped by the door, his back to Blitzø.

“Do you really feel as if I owe you nothing?” Stolas asked quietly. Blitzø was caught off guard by the question. 

“I mean, yeah,” Blitzø said. He watched Stolas nod, although he couldn’t see his face.

“Alright,” Stolas said. Blitzø watched as the phone he gave Stolas wiggled out of their pile of clothes, floating over to rest in Stolas’ open palm. The next moment he was gone, closing the door quietly behind him. Blitzø looked at the door for a long moment, and then he glanced down at the prescription bottle on the counter.

Blitzø was the type of person who was always going to be the problem, as much as he wanted to change. Maybe, like a bottle of absinthe, he could provide some kind of temporary relief, some burst of enjoyment, but the eventual hangover would always be a real bitch. As he sat on the vanity counter, alone, he was struck with a painful thought -

When you’re the problem, you’re never going to be the one to see any solutions, at least not ones that you’re part of. 

Stolas said it himself - being with Blitzø had never been a panacea. Blitzø clearly wasn’t a remedy, and could only ever be a temporary distraction. 

And yet, selfishly, he still wanted Stolas. He rested his fingertips on his lips, thinking about that kiss. An embarrassing idea had crossed his mind as Stolas kissed him - if Stolas was the only person who touched him like this for the rest of his life, he’d be more than content. Content was an understatement, even. He’d never felt this way about anyone before. 

Blitzø dropped his hand, taking a deep breath. Could it be worth it to try, like Stolas had, to see if there was still a chance of there being something more between them? He covered his face with his hands. Maybe he was a monogamous freak after all. He could already picture Moxxie’s shit-eating grin.

The sun was long gone as Stolas sat on the edge of Octavia’s bed, holding his new phone in his hands as he hung his head, not feeling like turning on any lamps even as darkness had been slowly bleeding into the bedroom. 

Octavia said that she'd text him when she needed a portal back after dinner, but there was no word from her yet. She’d been gone longer than he expected, and the worry twisted his insides, making it difficult to breathe, as if a constant weight was pressing against his chest, not enough to suffocate him, but enough to remind him that it was there. 

He remembered the expression on Via’s face as she packed a small bag, assuring him that she’d be fine. He couldn’t help but feel like she wasn’t telling him something, and yet he didn’t know what to say for her to be honest with him, to tell him how she was truly feeling. He glanced over at the chest at the foot of Via’s bed, where Blitzø had hidden the machetes. Maybe if he’d been more willing to let her use them, hadn’t hesitated, then she would’ve stayed? Had he been holding her back? Did she feel like a prisoner here, too? 

He turned on his phone to check his recent calls, just in case he missed something, even though he’d checked countless times already. There was still only one number at the top - Stella’s. As Via was getting ready to leave, Stolas had stepped away to call Stella. He’d gotten enough irritating calls from her the past few months, complaining about anything she could come up with regarding the divorce, that he ended up memorizing her number even though he had no interest in doing so.

“Who is this?” a familiar, grating voice had asked. Stolas remembered resting the back of his head against the hallway wall, sunlight spilling through the large window next to him. 

“It’s me, Stella,” Stolas answered, trying to keep his tone even, although he could already feel his frustration simmering. He heard her cackle.

“Stolas,” she said, practically hissing out his name. “You’d be the last person I’d expect a call from. I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.” Stolas rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be confused. That is still very much true,” he said. “But unfortunately it is difficult to completely cut ties with someone you share a precious daughter with.”

“So you’re calling me about the dinner I’m about to have with my daughter,” Stella said, sounding smug. “Have a problem with that?”

“Yes, quite frankly, I do,” Stolas said, rubbing one of his temples. “Given what happened a few days ago -”

“Oh? And what happened a few days ago?” Stella asked, tone innocent. But Stolas knew her too well not to hear the underlying maliciousness. He sighed.

“Are you really choosing to pretend that you didn’t send an assassin to kill me? For a third time, may I add.” Stella let out a laugh.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said happily. “Although if I did, I would wonder how you managed to escape death yet again. I hope you didn’t get any nasty injuries. Poor thing.” Stolas scoffed. 

“Your clearly fake concern is touching, Stella,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “but I’m not calling about me. I’m calling to warn you.”

“Warn me?” Stella asked, barking out a laugh. He could sense her building rage lurking below the surface. 

“If you hurt Via, do anything to harm her -” he began, gripping his phone as he pushed away from the wall, now pacing in the middle of the hallway.

“We’re having dinner, you fucking idiot,” Stella said. “What, do you expect me to poison her tea? What would that get me?”

“I know what you did with my will, Stella -”

“Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about -”

“You used to be proud of your transgressions against me,” Stolas said, getting frustrated. “Are you suddenly getting embarrassed now that I’ve thwarted your schemes so many times?” Stella scoffed loudly. 

“I’m still proud of them,” Stella said, seething, “because you deserved every one. You deserve every bad thing coming to you, Stolas.” 

“N-no, I don’t,” Stolas argued, but the way Stella laughed made it clear to them both that he wasn’t entirely convinced. 

“I heard you’ve really fortified the palace,” Stella cooed. “I also heard you got that disgusting imp to be your ‘bodyguard’. How do you think Octavia feels about living with her pathetic father’s fucktoy -?”

“Stop!” Stolas said, scrunching his eyes closed. “This isn’t about him. You don’t get to talk about him -”

“Oh? I don’t get to talk about the creature that ruined our marriage? That made me and Octavia miserable just so you could sate your repulsive urges?”

“It’s - it’s not like that,” Stolas said, wavering. He didn’t care how Stella felt, but did Via truly feel that way? Is that why she was meeting her mother for dinner? To escape? “Blitzo is more than that, to me - he’s not what you think -” Stella laughed. 

“I see. So you’re not playing bodyguard, you’re playing house,” she corrected, still laughing. “You delusional idiot. You’ve convinced yourself that this imp has fallen in love with you.” Stolas’ eyes widened, but then he furrowed his brow, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t - it’s -”

“I wonder how long he’ll actually stick around,” Stella interrupted. “My dear brother and I should place a bet. I give it another day until he gets sick of you, if he’s not sick of you already.”

“He cares about me,” Stolas protested, placing his fingertips against his chest. There was no use in arguing with her, but Stella managed to find his weak spot, like she always did. She laughed again.

“He’s got you wrapped around his finger, hasn’t he? What a clever little thing.” she said. “You need to face reality, Stolas. He's only there for an easy fuck from a desperate prince. And then, once he gets that, he’ll steal something.” She let out a laugh. “Sound familiar? You’ve always been so fucking naive.” 

“He won’t - he - things are different, now,” Stolas said, voice small. 

“Why would they be? No one could actually love someone like you. Take it from someone who knows,” she said. “Even your own daughter is taking the first chance to leave you, too.” Stolas felt his bottom lip wobble, the promise of incoming tears in his eyes. He opened his mouth to protest, to tell her that she was wrong, that she hadn’t seen the two of them the past fews days, but the anxiety and self-hatred that existed deep within his chest stopped any argument from leaving his lips. “No one would ever want to be chained to someone like you because they cared about you,” Stella continued. “Give it a few days and you’ll see. And once you’re all alone, maybe you’ll finally get what you deserve.” 

“Just don’t hurt Via,” Stolas managed to say, throat tight as he desperately tried to hold back his tears. Stella scoffed.

“You’ve hurt her enough for the both of us,” she said, and with that she hung up, leaving Stolas to stand in the hallway alone, hand clutching his chest. 

“Dad?” Via asked, and Stolas quickly wiped his eyes, turning to see Via further down the hall, carrying a small bag on her shoulder. “I’m ready.”

“Right,” Stolas said, about to move closer to her, but stopping himself. He opened a portal by the wall, revealing the exterior of the Richest Cup. “I -” he began, wanting to ask her, not for the first time, how she was feeling, but more afraid than ever to know the truth. He managed to smile instead, feeling the way it wavered, but hoping that Via couldn’t tell from where she was standing. “Be safe, princess.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’m not about to enter a battlefield,” Via said. “I told you - I’ll be fine. This…this will be a good thing, for both of us.”

“Okay,” Stolas said, but he couldn't bring himself to believe that, as much as he wanted to trust her. Because he didn't trust Stella. Via nodded, adjusting the strap on her shoulder, and then she left through the portal. It closed behind her a moment later. Stolas looked at the wall for a long moment. He began to feel that familiar burn deep inside of him, pressing outwards with such a force that he could already feel it warm the hand he was resting on his chest. He needed to get back to Blitzø before it became worse, but the idea of facing him now, after everything Stella had said, scared him. He shook his head. Stella was wrong about him, about them. Right? He found himself walking into the dining room, opening the cabinet full of his strongest alcohol. He reached out his hand, wavering between the absinthe and the whiskey, and chose the absinthe, opening the bottle and taking a long gulp, appreciating this burn a lot more than the one already spreading through him. He exhaled, feeling a bit calmer. Then he took another long drink, wanting to forget about so much of the past few days, while being drunk enough to believe in the good parts. 

And now here Stolas was, alone in Via's room, waiting for a text he was worried was never going to come. Maybe Via really had escaped, telling him what he wanted to hear so that he’d let her go. He placed his hand on his chest once again. 

He thought about kissing Blitzø, about how dizzying and right and good it felt, not because it was a fucking good kiss, but because it was Blitzø he was kissing. He remembered when he made out with that stranger at Verosika’s party, also when he was drunk. It wasn’t a bad kiss, and it was nice to feel so simply wanted, but it made him realize just how different a kiss was with someone you had deep feelings for. With Blitzø only hours ago, Stolas found himself committed to making him feel as good as possible, and felt elated at every gasp and moan he pulled out of him, as if Blitzø’s pleasure was his own. It was unselfish, it was a give as much as it was a take. Stolas wasn’t just seeking his own enjoyment. That wasn’t enough for him when it came to Blitzø. 

An insecure, anxious part of him had also wondered, as he deepened the kiss, if he could convince Blitzø to stay if he did a good enough job. Stella expected Blitzø to leave in a few days, and Blitzø himself considered this to be a temporary thing, but if Stolas could just be good enough, would Blitzø change his mind? They became friends, even after all they went through, so was it really so impossible for them to become more?

‘You wouldn’t leave me, too, would you, Blitzø?’ Stolas had thought, right before he kissed him. But soon enough he realized that friendship was all that he was going to have with Blitzø. Blitzø cared, but not in the way that Stolas cared about him. He wanted to fuck him, but only because there was a chance it'd help Stolas with his condition, and maybe because Stolas was an easy option for Blitzø, or, worse, because Stolas had once again forced himself upon him and Blitzø didn’t feel comfortable saying no. Whatever it was, the romantic feelings just weren’t there. And Stolas couldn’t blame him, not after the way Stolas had treated him in the beginning. He just hated that there was truth to what Stella had said. He was a hard person to love, maybe even an impossible person to love. And that was his own fault.

As he sat on Via’s bed, alone because of his own choices, he didn’t feel a burn in his chest, not yet, but rather an empty chill. One that felt a lot like defeat. 

‘The perfect end for an unlovable prince.’ Striker’s words came to mind once again. He was starting to understand what Striker had meant - Stolas was like a dim star in the sky, ancient and solitary, part of no story, no constellation, no true pair, just a star that had reached the end of its life, and now it was time to burn until he eventually burned out. Whatever was happening to him, maybe it was simply facilitating the inevitable. He shook his head. He didn’t want to think this way. He knew that these thoughts were dangerous. He wanted to believe that he deserved happiness - but why did it have to be so hard? All Stolas knew for sure was that it was foolish to keep hoping for something more between him and Blitzø. He needed to fully respect Blitzø’s wishes, something that was long overdue. 

Chapter Text

“I’m fine, Dad, I promise,” Via assured him over the phone. Stolas got up from where he’d been sitting on her bed, using both hands to hold his phone to his ear.

“Y-you said it was only dinner,” Stolas said, “I just - if I had known, I -”

“What? You wouldn’t have let me go?” Via asked. Stolas’ eyes widened.

“No, I - what I mean is - of course not, Via, I just would’ve wanted to talk about it more -”

“What would there be to talk about?” Via asked. “I’m staying with Mum for the weekend like I usually do.” Stolas let out an exasperated noise. “I know, Dad, I know you’re worried after what happened. But Mum - at dinner, she said she wants to move on from everything that happened between you two, to let go of her resentment, to turn a new leaf -”

“Oh really?” Stolas asked, holding back his scoff. He didn’t believe that for a second, but he also wasn’t eager to dash his daughter’s hopes. 

“She said she won’t hurt you anymore,” Via said quietly. Stolas worried at his lip. That was certainly not the impression he got during his phone call with Stella a few hours ago. What was her angle? Was this her brother’s suggestion - to convince Octavia that she was no longer a spiteful person? How ludicrous. “Doesn’t she deserve a chance to prove herself?” Via continued. “I mean, writing someone off for a few mistakes when they want to do better -”

“That is how Hell and Heaven currently function, princess,” Stolas pointed out. Via groaned. 

“But that’s not how our family has to function! Or whatever’s left of it. Aren’t you giving Blitzø a second chance?” she asked, voice lowered. Stolas furrowed his brow in confusion, anxiety twisting in his gut.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“He broke your heart, Dad,” Via said quietly, and Stolas’ mouth parted in surprise. He cleared his throat, moving to sit on the pink and white couch in Via’s room, the one by the telescope he got her years ago. 

“How do you - what makes you say that?” Stolas tried to ask, unsure of what wording to use.

“So you really don’t remember,” Via observed. “I guess you really were wasted.” Stolas heard another voice on the line. “Hello, Uncle. Yes, I’m just explaining to Dad that I’m staying here for the weekend so he doesn’t freak out. Yes. I just need a few more minutes. Okay.”

“Andrealphus is there?” Stolas asked. 

“He and Mum are in the other room,” Via said explained. “Wait, I’m finding a new room to talk.” Stolas waited a few moments, putting one of Via’s throw pillows in his lap and playing nervously with its tassels. “Okay,” she said a few moments later. “What was I saying?”

“Something about me not remembering something,” Stolas offered, feeling apprehensive about knowing the answer, and yet curious all the same. How did he fuck up this time?

“Right,” Via said. She sighed. “I - well, I missed my bed at home, or whatever, so I left Mum’s early to come back,” she began to explain. “And you were a total mess, Dad, like mascara running down your face, all sweaty and gross, wearing some party outfit and crying on the couch -” 

“Oh,” Stolas said, letting go of the pillow tassel. This had to have been after Verosika’s party, although the memories of getting back home and ending up in his bed were hazy. He only really remembered the fucking awful hangover he had the next morning. “I’m sorry you saw me like that, Via -”

“It’s alright. I wasn’t meant to,” Via said. “You didn’t know I’d be there.”

“Did I - did I say anything -?”

“Yeah,” Via confessed, voice quiet. “It was hard to follow at times, something about the full moon and stupid apologies and crystals and piñatas,” she listed off. “All I know is that it sounded like he really broke your heart, Dad. I kind of hate him for it.”

“Oh Via,” Stolas said. He exhaled, hanging his head and thinking about how he left Blitzø in the bathroom. “Blitzø - he didn’t do anything wrong. I was being foolish -”

“Why do you give him so many chances?” Via asked, a note of irritation in her voice. “I don’t get it, Dad. Why does he get to treat you like shit?”

“Because I was the problem, Octavia,” Stolas tried to explain, putting a hand on his chest. He sighed. “My sweet Via, I have been so selfish lately. You know that better than anyone. In trying to be happy, to feel some semblance of control in my life, I have been neglecting the happiness of the people around me. And that’s not fair. No one, regardless of who they are, should have that much power over another person’s happiness.”

“But that doesn’t mean that you don’t get to be happy,” Via argued. “I don’t - I’m sick of seeing you get hurt. I’m sick of our family being so hurt and angry and unhappy all the time. Does it always have to be like this now?”

“No,” Stolas said firmly, shaking his head. “You deserve every happiness, Via. I promise I will do everything in my power to ensure that -”

“You still don’t get it!” Via said, frustrated. She sighed. “I should go -”

“Wait, Octavia -” Stolas said, setting the pillow aside and moving to stand.

“Just trust me, okay? I’ll - I’ll let you know when I’m coming back -”

“You’re only gone for the weekend, though, right?” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Via said vaguely, and Stolas’ heart sank.

"Via, please -"

“Bye, Dad.” With that she hung up the phone. Stolas was frozen for a moment, trying to understand what just happened. Then he walked over to her bed, dropping his phone onto Via’s dark purple comforter and putting his head in his hands. 

He had no memories of Via seeing the state he was in after that party. He only remembered waking up the next afternoon to find Via in the kitchen making tea. She claimed to have just arrived, and certainly gave nothing away to suggest that she knew anything about what happened between himself and Blitzø. How mortifying. And now she was gone, for a whole weekend, at least. Stella’s harsh words rang in his head, as much as he tried not to believe them. 

“Shit,” Blitzø said, reading the messages he got from Loona again.

I’m pretty sure Via left the restaurant with her mom. I managed to get close enough to hear something about staying with her for the night.

fuk. did she sem ok?

I think so? But I’m not sure if she knows what she’s getting herself into. That family is messy af

ded she sai sumting @ teh offiz?

I think she just needs to talk some things out with her dad

ya :( thcks 4 teh heds up, Loony

Let me know if she needs help. I’ll be there

Now Blitzø was searching this massive fucking palace to find Stolas, who wasn’t answering his calls. Where the hell could that bird bitch be? He already checked his bedroom, the kitchen, the garden, the study, the dining room, the pool, and even circled back to the bathroom just in case. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, trying to think. Where else would he have gone? Were there even more secret rooms Blitzø didn’t know about? Would Stolas have hidden somewhere like an idiot? He must know by now that Via wasn’t coming back tonight, so he was probably curled up in some heap somewhere, hopefully not overheating, but how was Blitzø to know for sure? The past few hours had confused the fuck out of him. 

“Wait,” Blitzø said, stopping in the middle of one of the many hallways. He smacked his forehead. “I’m a dumbass.” He put his phone in his pocket, hurrying towards Octavia’s room. Just like Blitzø suspected, Stolas was curled up in a sad heap on Via’s bed, still in his dark scarlet robe and holding a pillow to his chest. Blitzø walked over to the bed, noticing the jackalope on top of Via’s dresser. 

“You found me,” Stolas said with a sniffle, resting his chin on the top of the pillow as he looked up at Blitzø. “I’m fine.”

“Clearly you’re not,” Blitzø said, putting a hand on his hip. 

“The heat isn’t that bad right now. I promised I would tell you if -”

“That doesn’t mean you’re okay,” Blitzø challenged. He sighed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, next to Stolas’ long-as-fuck legs. “Loona told me about Via staying the night at that bitch’s place.”

“The whole weekend, at least,” Stolas said sadly. 

“Shit,” Blitzø said, not knowing what else to say. Stolas pushed himself up to sit next to Blitzø, their sides pressed together. 

“What do you do when your family wants nothing to do with you anymore?” Stolas asked. “And you can’t blame them?” Blitzø’s eyes widened. That question hit a bit too close to home. He laced his fingers together in his lap, looking down at his hands. 

“That’s not what’s happening,” Blitzø said, frowning. “Via loves you. You’re her dad -”

“I haven’t been a very good one, as of late,” Stolas said, staring off into space. "Or maybe ever." The room was quiet for a long moment.

“I wish I had the answers, Stols,” Blitzø said, still looking down at his hands. He clenched his jaw, wishing he could make Stolas feel better, but also worried he’d say the wrong thing and Stolas would leave again. This was so damn hard. Fuck. Maybe he just needed to be honest. “Did I ever tell you that I have a sister?” he finally asked, before he lost his nerve.

“No,” Stolas said, curiosity in his voice. 

“She fucking hates my guts,” Blitzø explained. “And she has every right to. I - I messed up her life.”

“I doubt you meant to do that,” Stolas offered. He paused. “I think you rarely intend to truly hurt people. Except your enemies and targets, of course. You do a very good job of hurting them,” he corrected with a nervous laugh. Blitzø scoffed. Then he furrowed his brow, serious again.

“Does it matter if it was an accident?” he asked, turning his face to look up at Stolas. “I still hurt her.”

“Intention goes a long way, in my opinion,” Stolas said, meeting his gaze. Blitzø felt Stolas’ hand slip into his, resting in Blitzø’s lap. Blitzø searched his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. 

“I heard your song,” Blitzø said without thinking, “at Verosika’s party.”

“Oh, so you did,” Stolas said, biting his lip and tearing his gaze away. “How embarrassing.” He let out a weak laugh.

“A part of me did mean to hurt you,” Blitzø confessed, and he watched Stolas’ eyes widen. “I was confused, and - and pissed off because I felt like I had no control over what was happening, so I took it out on you. I wanted you to feel as hurt as I’d been feeling, as I felt when, in my mind, you were just trying to get rid of me.”

“I see,” Stolas said quietly. “That’s - that’s only fair.”

“It had nothing to do with fairness,” Blitzø said, shaking his head. “You didn’t deserve that. And it - us - you -” Blitzø let out a frustrated noise, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “It didn’t mean nothing to me, Stols. That’s not why I said all those shitty things.”

“What are you trying to say, Blitzø?” Stolas asked. There were notes of exhaustion and sadness in his voice, in the curve of his back and he slumped his shoulders.

“I guess I’m trying to say,” Blitzø began, not knowing how to put it all into words without putting his own fucking dick in his mouth like he usually did. “That sometimes people get mad or distant, but that doesn’t mean you’re worth nothing to them, or that they’ll just abandon you without a second thought. Sometimes it does, sure, but I know that isn’t the case with Via. So don’t sweat it too much, okay? She’ll come back.”

“Okay,” Stolas said quietly. “I’ll try to believe that.” He was quiet for a moment. “What is your sister’s name?” Blitzø’s eyes widened in surprise. He shifted awkwardly on the bed.

“Barbie,” Blitzø said. “Barb. That’s what I call her.”

“Older sister? Younger?”

“She’s my twin,” Blitzø said, feeling jittery from this sudden vulnerability, as if his body was telling him to run while he still could. He did his best to fight the urge. “She has one of Ozzie’s crystals too, you know.”

“Really?” Stolas said, curious eyes back on him. “Do you know what she’s up to?” Blitzø scoffed.

“Probably smuggling drugs in the living world.”

“So you’re both business-savvy,” Stolas pointed out, a weak attempt at being funny. Blitzø rolled his eyes. “I hope I get the chance to meet her, one day.”

“She was very clear about wanting me to fuck off the last time I found her,” Blitzø said. “So don’t count on it.”

“Crazier things have happened,” Stolas offered with a shrug. “I assumed that I would never see you again, and yet here we are, even after I sang a whole song - one that I now know you heard - where I called you a motherfucker multiple times.” Blitzø laughed.

“I thought it was kinda hot,” Blitzø admitted, and Stolas scoffed. Then he yawned, and Blitzø noticed how he was struggling to keep his eyes open. “Let’s get you to bed,” he said, and Stolas nodded. 

“I think I’m still a little drunk,” he confessed. 

“No shit, Stolas, absinthe and whiskey will do that to you.” Blitzø scooped him up and carried him out of Via’s room, heading in the direction of Stolas’ room. Stolas wrapped his arms around Blitzø’s neck. Blitzø could feel the heat radiating from him, like warmth from a furnace. It wasn’t a burning heat, but Blitzø still frowned. If Blitzø was providing some kind of temporary relief from this weird curse-thing, was this curse building up an immunity against him? If so, what did that mean for Stolas? He shook his head. They needed to figure out a solution as soon as possible, before things went to shit. He hoped Ozzie was figuring everything out, and quickly.

“I didn’t actually want to be alone, before,” Stolas said, voice quiet. His eyes were closed, head bobbing with exhaustion. 

“Then why’d you leave?” Blitzø asked, walking down the long hallway and taking a left. He was starting to get a hang of this maze of a palace.

“I was scared,” Stolas confessed. 

“Scared?” 

“Hm. Scared that everything Stella told me about myself is true.” Blitzø furrowed his brow.

“What’d that bitch tell you? You know what, I don’t care. I bet it’s all bullshit. No, it’s definitely bullshit, Stolas. She’s clearly crazy,” Blitzø rambled, but he got no response. He reached Stolas’ room, walking over to the bed and gently setting him down to find that Stolas was already asleep. Blitzø sighed, putting his hands on his hips. It was funny, learning about the ways in which he and Stolas were similar, after he’d been so fixated on their differences. He climbed into bed to join Stolas, carefully putting the blanket over them both. Blitzø was still wearing the bathrobe Stolas had given him, the one that was fucking huge. He was shocked he hadn't tripped and ate shit, especially since he'd been carrying one lanky-ass bird. His gaze traveled across the length of Stolas' body, sillhouetted by the dim light coming from the balcony doors. Seriously, those legs lived in a different zip code.

He inspected Stolas’ sleeping expression in the darkness, watching his chest move with each steady inhale and exhale. He noticed the way Stolas’ brow furrowed, the stress from the day finding him even in his dreams. Blitzø reached out his thumb to smooth the space between his brows, repeating that gentle motion until Stolas’ face relaxed. He let out a quiet scoff, his gaze roaming over Stolas’ face, memorizing every line and curve. 

“I’m glad I got to see you again,” Blitzø said, voice barely a whisper. “Under fucked-up circumstances, but, I guess I missed you. I don’t care if that makes me sound like a whipped bitch.” Stolas mumbled something in his sleep, and then he was reaching for Blitzø, wrapping him in his arms. Blitzø froze for a moment, but then he relaxed into it, resting his forehead against Stolas’ chest, careful not to knock his horns into his face. He could feel his own tension from the day easing as he listened to the steady beat of Stolas’ heart. 

Blitzø was scared, too. Stolas was right - intention was important. He wondered if their intentions were the same, if they finally wanted the same thing at the same time. He wondered how he’d feel if he found out he was wrong. He’d been wrong about the nature of their relationship before, but this time, he knew it’d hurt a lot more. It was an anxiety he wasn’t used to, because he deliberately avoided putting himself in this position. 

He finally understood how Verosika must’ve felt, and he felt like even more of an asshole for doing what he did. He wrapped his arms around Stolas, holding him tight and breathing him in, hoping that karma wasn’t about to come busting down the door to fuck up his life again.

Stolas adjusted the belt of his robe, retying it as he quietly padded into the kitchen, looking for Blitzø. Morning light peeked into the kitchen, warming the place in a pink glow. 

“Look who’s finally up,” Blitzø said, sitting at the kitchen table. He had changed out of Stolas’ robe, wearing his usual outfit. Stolas noticed the pen in his hand, as well as the paper on the table in front of him. He raised a brow.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, moving to sit next to Blitzø on the bench by the window. Blitzø shrugged, pushing the paper towards Stolas. There was a half-finished drawing of a horse covered in dots, and some kind of creature riding on it. 

“I got bored outta my fucking mind waiting for you, sleeping beauty,” Blitzø explained, giving him a wink. “Felt like drawing that horse I got to ride at Millie’s. Pretty damn good, right?”

“Is that you riding it?” Stolas asked. Blitzø frowned. 

“No, that’s clearly you, Stols,” he said. “I added your little crown thing, see?” he said, pointing to the pointy shape on top of the creature. Stolas laughed.

“Of course. Silly me,” he said, and Blitzø crossed his arms.

“Everyone’s a critic. You couldn’t see talent if it fucked you sideways,” Blitzø grumbled. “How’d you sleep?”

“I am horribly hungover,” Stolas said. Blitzø scoffed, moving to stand. He went over to the stove, climbing up the golden step stool, and poured something from the kettle into a mug, bringing it over to Stolas. 

“Tea,” Blitzø explained, pushing the steaming mug over to him. “Drink it.”

“Thank you,” Stolas said, giving him a smile before lifting the mug to his mouth, blowing on it and then taking a sip. Blitzø brought a plate over next, setting it down on the table. There was a small stack of pancakes on it. They smelled amazing.

“I added a shit-ton of dried grasshoppers, since you like them so much,” Blitzø admitted, and Stolas thought he saw the beginning of a blush on Blitzø’s cheeks. Was he feeling bashful? It was endearing to see him this way, and filled Stolas with a fondness that he tried to keep in check.

“How kind of you, Blitzø. Thank you,” Stolas said, failing to hold back his smile. 

“I also got these,” Blitzø said, running over to the counter again to bring over a cream-colored vase filled with a large bouquet of purple, red, and white peonies. Stolas’ eyes widened as Blitzø placed it in the middle of the kitchen table, a strong, floral scent filling his nose. He looked over at Blitzø, at a loss for what to say. Blitzø was holding his arms to his chest where he stood, not meeting his gaze.

“Why?” Stolas asked dumbly, confused as to what possessed Blitzø to do all of this. Is this what he did for his friends? It didn’t seem like Blitzø’s style, but how was he to know for certain? Maybe he could ask Moxxie whenever he saw him next. “Did you get these from the living world?”

“I already told you, I was bored as fuck,” Blitzø said with a shrug. “And yeah, I got the flowers from some random shop I remembered passing by while on a job.” He stole a glance at Stolas, then moved to join him again on the bench, looking at the vase. “What are they, anyway? The old hag went fucking crazy when she caught me stealing them.” Stolas scoffed. 

“They’re peonies. They’re quite expensive. What made you choose these?” Blitzø shrugged again.

“They looked kinda like the roses you have,” Blitzø offered. “So I thought you might like them. They don’t have thorns, though. I didn’t realize that when I took them. Sorry.” Stolas laughed.

“No need to apologize. I love them, Blitzø. Thank you.” 

“Stop thanking me so damn much,” Blitzø said, shifting uncomfortably on the bench. “I was bored.” Stolas bit back his smile, trying to remember what he knew about peonies. 

“Peonies are a durable flower, although it may not seem so. They can live for over a hundred years and still bloom. They can also survive a variety of harsh conditions - frost, hot summers, neglect -”

“They sound way better than the shitty flower that dickhead gave you,” Blitzø said with a smug grin. Stolas smiled. 

“Absolutely,” he agreed, and Blitzø’s grin widened. Did he even puff out his chest a little? Stolas bit back his amusement. Then he was thoughtful, remembering some of his trips to the living world. “People in the living world like giving flowers to people for different reasons, usually to communicate some sentiment. They’ve essentially created a whole language - different flowers symbolizing different things. Even different colors have their own meanings.”

“Oh yeah? Talk about pussy behavior, using plants instead of fucking words,” Blitzø said with a laugh. “What do these ones mean, then?” Stolas decided not to point out that Blitzø had just participated in this ‘pussy behavior’, intentionally or not. 

“They are associated with quite a range of things,” Stolas began, what he’d learned slowly coming back to him. “One myth claims that the flower is named after the Greek physician Paeon who would heal people with the root of the flower. He ended up being turned into a peony.”

“The fuck? Why?”

“Essentially, the gods grew jealous of him and his accomplishments,” Stolas explained. Blitzø rolled his eyes.

“Sounds about fucking right.” 

“Hm, yes. Fate can be quite unfair.” 

“People with power can be unfair,” Blitzø corrected, and Stolas looked at him in surprise. He considered that. With many of the myths he’d read about, he blamed much of it on unavoidable fate, the natural current of a tragedy, but Blitzø was right. Wasn’t the true cause of so many tragic endings because of power and its imbalance? And so often the ones who suffered most were those who lacked it. How naive of him to not have considered that before. Of course he wouldn’t think about it that way - he rarely lacked power himself. He thought about Striker standing over him, about to kill him while Stolas was powerless to do anything to defend himself. It was terrifying, and that feeling still clung to him now, lurking in the back of his mind. He wondered what it must be like to feel that way all of the time. To have always felt that way.

“Hey,” Blitzø said, bumping Stolas' arm with his shoulder. “Where’d you go?” 

“Oh,” Stolas said, shaking his head a little. “It’s just - you’re right. The gods treated him horribly, and for such a petty reason.”

“Anyone can be an asshole,” Blitzø said with a shrug. “No matter how cushy their life is.”

“An asshole with a cushy life seems worse,” Stolas said, furrowing his brow. Blitzø scoffed.

“Yeah, those people fucking suck. Now tell me more about these amazing flowers I stole.” Stolas looked back at the vase.

“Purple peonies represent royalty and elegance.”

“Hey! Perfect for a prince, right?” Blitzø said, nudging Stolas’ ribs with his elbow. “Maybe I should start another business. I could symbolize the fuck out of a bunch of flowers. Clearly it’s easy.” 

“You could send flowers to the families of the people you’ve killed,” Stolas suggested, sarcasm dripping from his voice, and yet Blitzø’s eyes lit up.

“Shit! Yeah!” he agreed. “And then I’ll charge them.” Stolas hid his laugh behind his hand. “What about the red and white ones?” Blitzø asked, looking back at the bouquet. Stolas rested his fingertips against his chin, trying to remember. Then his eyes widened.

Red peonies represented love and passion. White peonies represented new beginnings and apologies. He opened his mouth, then shook his head. Clearly Blitzø did not intentionally choose these colors, and he was worried that Blitzø would only feel uncomfortable if he knew what they represented. What if he started to panic, thinking that Stolas had gotten the wrong idea? What if Blitzø began to vehemently explain that the flowers didn’t mean anything? Stolas already knew that they didn’t mean anything, of course, but he expected that it’d hurt more to hear it confirmed so passionately. 

“I actually can’t remember,” Stolas finally said, letting out nervous laugh. Blitzø shot him a skeptical look. Then he shrugged.

“I guess even nerds like you don’t remember everything you’ve read,” he reasoned. Stolas nodded, happy with that logic.

“I do remember that some cultures still use its root as medicine to treat pain,” Stolas offered. Then he grew thoughtful for a moment. “I wonder if it would help with my - whatever-the-fuck. My curse? It certainly feels like a curse.” Blitzø leaned forward, reaching to pick up one of the petals that had fallen to the table. It was a red one, Stolas noted, swallowing thickly. Blitzø twirled it between his fingers, and then he lifted his gaze to Stolas, shooting him a grin. 

“Worth a shot, right? Striker would be fucking furious if he found out whatever was in his shitty bullet could be cured by some fancy flower.” Stolas tilted his head, looking at Blitzø in confusion.

“So it was the bullet, then?” he asked. “That’s why I keep overheating like this? How do you -?” 

“Oh, shit, right,” Blitzø said, smacking his forehead. He set the petal back down, turning to fully face Stolas. “Fizz called when I was waiting in your study. I was going to tell you right away, but -” Stolas watched as Blitzø rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“But then I came back hammered,” Stolas finished for him. And not too long after that he practically threw himself at Blitzø, while they were both naked, as well. What a stupid idea. Not even an idea - an impulse. “Understandable that we never got to that conversation,” Stolas added awkwardly. Blitzø cleared his throat. 

“Yeah, well, I guess Ozzie’s in Pride right now. He found something in the bullet that’s similar to these love potions that're being sold -”

“Love potion?” Stolas asked, eyes widening. 

“He’s pretty sure it’s not like that though!” Blitzø quickly explained. “It’s more like - well, we don’t know yet - but that bullet was probably made by the same people. And Ozzie thinks that this heat thing,” he continued, gesturing to Stolas’ body, “won’t go away on its own. But at least he didn’t give you some crazy STD from his blood, right?”

“Right, lucky me,” Stolas said dryly, putting his fingertips to his temples and letting out a sigh. He felt Blitzø’s hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll figure it out soon, Stols,” he assured him. “You were right. Ozzie’s on it. I guess I should’ve given him more credit. That bitch was taking his sweet time, though.”

“Yes, this will be over soon,” Stolas said, trying to at least sound confident. Then Blitzø could go back to his business - the thing that he loved - and back to his family. And the two of them could be friends, now. Maybe Stolas could hope to spend time with him like this again, one day. Blitzø’s phone started ringing, pulling him from his thoughts. Stolas was almost getting used to the interspersed screams.

“Hey, we were actually just talking about you and Ozz,” Blitzø said, phone to his ear and leaning back against the bench. Stolas took a sip of his tea. “The fuck? You’re nearby? I told you I was going to ask - Satan’s red asshole you’re such a whiny bitch sometimes, Fizz -” Blitzø groaned, moving the phone away from his ear and looking at Stolas. “Fizz wants to hang out with us.” 

“Really?” Stolas asked, mood brightening even amongst all this uncertainty. Blitzø cared about Fizz, as much as it didn’t seem like it. And Stolas knew they had a history. A complicated one, to be sure, but Stolas felt a desire to know this person who knew Blitzø so well. Then he noticed Blitzø blinking at him, as if he was waiting for a response. “Oh!” Stolas said, setting his mug down. “Of course he can come over, if you two are looking for my permission.”

“I’m looking for your permission, since I’m fucking polite,” Blitzø clarified. Stolas thought he heard a scoff over the phone. “Apparently this rude, clingy asshole is already on his way here.” Blitzø put the phone back to his ear, listening for a second. “Yeah, I wanted you to hear that, Fizz. Glad your ears still work.” A pause. “Very funny, dickhead. I’m glad the explosion I caused didn’t blow your earholes off, either. How else could I remind you that you’re a petty fucking bitch - hello?” Blitzø listened for moment. Then Stolas watched as he rolled his eyes, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Guess we’re dealing with Hell’s favorite clown today.”

“I believe there are worse things,” Stolas said with a smile. “I am actually quite excited to spend time with a fellow childhood friend of yours.” Blitzø raised a brow.

“Why do I have a feeling that you two are going to fuck me?” Blitzø asked, suspicious. Then he must’ve noticed the surprise in Stolas’ expression, because he quickly held his hands out. “Wait, that’s not what I - I didn’t mean -” Then he paused. “Although -” he considered, moving to stroke his chin. 

“Blitzø,” Stolas said, exasperated. 

“Right, that’d be crazy,” Blitzø said, dropping his hand and letting out an awkward laugh. “I’ve totally never considered something as ridiculous as that before -” 

Thankfully Blitzø’s likely horny train of thought was interrupted by a loud crash coming from the front of the house, followed by a string of curses. Blitzø and Stolas looked at each other in surprise, and then they hurried over to the front entrance, Blitzø pulling his gun out.

“Stay behind me,” Blitzø said, resting a hand on Stolas’ arm as he went to open the door. Stolas watched as he opened the door, and saw Fizz standing in the middle of the steel cage, arms crossed and looking pissed.

“This is how you welcome guests, huh?” Fizz asked, rolling his eyes. “I’m a celebrity, if you forgot. I have standards.”

“I apologize -” Stolas began, moving out from behind Blitzø and towards the cage. Fizz held up a hand to stop him. Then he pointed at Blitzø, who came to stand next to Stolas, putting his gun away.

“No need. This has you written all over it,” Fizz said. Blitzø was already laughing.

“Stolas’ daughter said only a total dumbass would fall for this trap,” Blitzø said, a shit-eating grin on his face. He looked up at Stolas. “I’m telling her about this when she comes back.” Stolas scoffed, but Blitzø’s confidence that she’d come back was comforting. “Wait, even better, I’ll take pictures -”

“Oh fuck you -” Fizz began, extending his arm through the bars to flip Blitzø off as he pulled out his phone. Stolas smiled, shaking his head. Then he created a portal, gently leading Fizz through it and back to freedom. 

“Come on, Stols,” Blitzø whined. “I was gonna post that online.”

“Get fucked, asshole,” Fizz said, sticking his tongue out. Now it was Blitzø’s turn to flip him off. 

“This is not the way to start a day of fun with friends,” Stolas chided. Both Fizz and Blitzø raised a brow at him. Then Fizz shrugged.

“Eh, I’m already over it. How ‘bout I get a tour of the place, your highness?” He grinned at Stolas, putting his hands on his hips. He was wearing a lavender button-up, black pants, and coral-colored suspenders. He also had a pair of stylish sunglasses resting on top of his head.

“Stolas needs to eat first,” Blitzø said stubbornly. 

“Oh right, I suppose that’s true,” Stolas said. Filling his stomach would probably help with his hangover. He was still feeling a bit run down. Drinking all that alcohol really did a number on him. Then he felt a vibration in the pocket of his robe and checked his phone. His heart sank when he recognized Stella’s number on the screen. He hesitated, then opened the message from her - it was a picture of Via eating breakfast with her and Andrealphus. Via was smiling in it. Stolas clenched his jaw, dropping his phone back in his pocket as he tried to ignore his sudden wave of nausea. At least Octavia was unharmed. Happy, even. He’d just would’ve preferred her being happy with him instead. “Actually, how about we take a tour first. I don’t have much of an appetite at the moment,” Stolas decided, trying to at least look unaffected as anxiety took hold of his throat.

“You sure?” Blitzø asked, searching Stolas’ expression after glancing down at Stolas’ pocket. He managed to give Blitzø a smile, wondering how convincing it was. 

“Yes, I should make up for my guest ending up in a cage, after all,” he said. “My celebrity guest,” he corrected, looking over at Fizz and giving him a small bow. Blitzø scoffed.

“I know you’re teasing me, but I’ll let it slide this time,” Fizz said, extending his legs as he slinked past Blitzø and Stolas to enter the palace. He turned to face them once he was inside, putting his sunglasses on the edge of his nose and shooting them a grin. “I wanna see where you two would bang.” Stolas choked, not expecting such a request. He stole a glance at Blitzø, who was rolling his eyes, apparently unfazed. 

“You’ll go wherever Stolas lets you go, dipshit,” Blitzø said, placing his hands behind his neck and walking through the open door to join him. He turned to face Stolas. “You coming?”

“Doesn’t sound like that’s the first time you’ve asked him that question,” Fizz joked, shooting Blitzø a devilish grin and Stolas a wink. Stolas’ eyes widened, and he could feel his face flush.

“Just say you regret not fucking me when you had the chance, Fizz,” Blitzø said. “You make it so obvious.” Fizz rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and putting his weight on one hip.

“Yeah, keep convincing yourself that’s true, Blitzø, if that’s what gets your dick hard.” He gave Blitzø a dry look before turning to walk deeper into the palace, hands now clasped behind his back as he craned his neck to look at the high ceilings. Stolas cleared his throat, glancing back at the steel cage at the top of the front steps before following after his new guest. Blitzø quickly joined Stolas. They were a few paces behind Fizz as he wandered through the hallways, seemingly randomly. Stolas wondered if he should provide any information, or ask Fizz what he’d like to see - besides Stolas’ bedroom, preferrably - but Fizz seemed perfectly content to wander, so he decided to wait until Fizz stopped or asked a question.

“He can be a fucking handful,” Blitzø said as they walked side-by-side. “He’s always been needy.” Stolas looked over at him in surprise, seeing how Blitzø was looking at Fizz’s back, a small smile on his face. Stolas smiled as well.

“He’s certainly energetic,” Stolas offered. “I can see why he has such a talent for entertaining.” 

“Yeah, he was always a natural, even when we were dumb kids,” Blitzø agreed. “He was a lot better at getting people to laugh than I was.” He paused. “That wasn’t because he was funnier than me, though,” Blitzø clarified. “Those boring idiots just didn’t realize that I was ahead of my time.” 

“Your own dad thought I was way funnier than you, asshole,” Fizz said from over his shoulder, continuing his essentially self-guided tour. Blitzø scoffed.

“Yeah, because he was one of those boring idiots.”

“True,” Fizz conceded.

“I remember you being quite hilarious, Blitzø,” Stolas confessed, playing with the belt of his robe as they walked past the kitchen and down yet another hallway. He could feel Blitzø’s gaze on him, and looked over to see the surprise in his expression. “I - I remember that silly horse you made -” he began to explain. Fizz laughed. 

“He was fucking awful at making balloon animals.” Blitzø laughed too.

“I’d always come up with some bullshit reason for why they looked like worms,” he explained with a grin. “My cockbag dad would get so pissed.” Blitzø and Fizz both laughed at that. 

“Oh right!” Stolas said, memories rushing back. “You said something about the horse’s legs falling off because it ate too much sugar! A very similar thing actually happens to horses, you know! Their legs become inflamed and it becomes harder for them to walk. So it was funny and scientifically accurate.”

“Of course you’d know that,” Blitzø teased, bumping Stolas’ leg with his shoulder. “Good to know I had one fan, at least. Even if it was a little nerd like you.” Stolas giggled. It really had been quite funny. He was disappointed that more people hadn't appreciated Blitzø’s humor back then.

“Hey, why are all these paintings covered up?” Fizz asked, stopping in the middle of one of the many hallways to stare up at the paintings covering the walls. Sparkling, gossamer fabric was draped over many of them. Stolas’ smile fell. 

“Oh, I - well -” Stolas tried to explain. He looked at the places where the fabric was pushed away, revealing Octavia’s smiling face from when she was little. He smiled at the sight of his precious daughter, but then he frowned, remembering where Via was now, smiling with her other family. 

“Wow, this is a huge one,” Fizz said, looking up at one of the larger, covered paintings.

“Ha! That’s what she said!” 

“Who said?” Fizz asked, looking at Blitzø in confusion. Blitzø shrugged.

“Dunno. It’s a joke that Loona taught me.” Fizz shot him a skeptical look, and then he extended his arm upwards, pulling back the fabric covering the painting.

“Wait -!” Stolas said, holding out a hand, but it was too late. 

“Oops,” Fizz said, and the three of them watched as the gossamer fabric floated down to the ground, revealing a portrait of Stolas and Stella from when they were younger, right before they got married. 

“Christ on a stick,” Blitzø said, craning his neck. “You look fucking miserable, Stols.” Stolas let out a weak laugh.

“Because I was,” he confessed. He saw the furrow in Stella’s painted brow, the unhappiness in the curve of her beak. Stolas himself looked defeated, an empty expression on his face. Both of their postures were horribly stiff, backs straight and hands clasped politely in front of them. Stolas remembered the imp who painted the portrait had asked them to get closer together, even suggested that Stella should put her hand on Stolas’ shoulder. Stella had yelled at him, telling him to ‘fucking get on with it’. Stolas said nothing the entire time. Looking at the painting now, it was a startling reminder of just how young they had been. 

As much as he hated Stella’s guts, and would never trust her, there was a small part of him that had a sliver of empathy for her. They both had been forced into their marriage, a marriage that had been arranged before either of them even knew the concept of love. But Stolas had tried to make it work, at least. Stella never did. Not sincerely. 

“Why’d you marry that crazy bitch anyway?” Blitzø asked. “She looks like she was a fucking headache even back then.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Stolas explained. “That day we spent together, Blitzø, all those years ago, was the day I found out that she was my betrothed.” Blitzø’s eyes widened.

“When you were a fucking kid?” Blitzø asked. Stolas gave him a sad smile. Blitzø shook his head. “That’s bullshit. Rich people are weird as fuck.” Fizz hummed in agreement. 

“I suppose we can have power in some domains, and lack power in others,” Stolas offered. Blitzø furrowed his brow, looking back at the painting. 

“I’ve obviously just reopened some old wounds and feel awkward as shit now,” Fizz said sheepishly, rocking on his heels. He extended his arm to grab the fabric from the floor, covering the painting back up. “So let’s keep going with that tour!” He hurried to the end of the hall, opening the door and entering the next room. Stolas opened his mouth, about to stop him, but he was already gone. Stolas knew that the next room was just as awkward, if not more so. He stole a glance at Blitzø, who was still looking at the now-covered painting. 

“You covered your face in all of these,” Blitzø said quietly. Stolas looked down at the floor, holding his arms to his chest.

“I - I figured that it might be nice to redecorate,” Stolas explained weakly. “Now that Stella is gone. I just…haven’t gotten around to it yet. This - this is temporary,” he assured him, wincing at the defensiveness he heard in his own voice. Blitzø nodded. 

“I get it,” he said, with a sincerity that surprised Stolas. Blitzø met his gaze, giving him a comforting smile. Stolas couldn’t help but feel like there was a meaning behind those seemingly simple words that he wasn’t quite picking up on. He cleared his throat, having his fill of feeling vulnerable in this way, and turned towards the now open doorway, where Fizz had gone. 

“Yes, well,” Stolas said. “We should catch up.” With that he continued on, bracing himself for the room he would face next. This wasn’t the kind of tour he’d been anticipating. 

Blitzø thought about the pictures he had on the wall of his apartment. He didn’t have fancy curtains like Stolas, but black marker worked just as well. He knew the bullshit about redecorating was a lame excuse, recognizing these covered paintings for what they really were, because, again, Blitzø and Stolas weren’t that different after all. The two of them would much rather look at the people they cared about without having to face themselves. Blitzø thought about the last time he’d walked down this hallway, following after Stolas and feeling fucking pissed because Stolas had suddenly sprung this ‘feelings’ bullshit on him after taking the book back. Back then Blitzø was too angry and confused to consider why all these paintings were covered except for Via’s face. If only he’d noticed sooner. If only he’d paid attention more. He looked at the open doorway, knowing where it led. The same thought must’ve crossed Stolas’ mind, too. He took a deep breath, clenching his fists in an attempt to steady himself, and joined them in the other room. 

It was a circular room, full of tall, intricately-designed windows that each included a crown and a crescent moon. In the center of the room hung a beautiful, definitely expensive-as-shit chandelier, except it was currently covered. Only a shadow of it was visible, as light shone down on it through the windows.

Blitzø vaguely remembered this chandelier, although the whole day he spent here as a kid was hazy - like a distant, out-of-place fairy tale. He was pretty sure the chandelier seemed a lot bigger back then. He was also pretty sure he’d stolen a piece of it. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little shitty about it now. 

“What’s under here?” Fizz asked Stolas, who was standing next to him. They were both right next to the chandelier, looking upwards. Blitzø decided to hang back.

“You can remove the cover if you’d like,” Stolas said. Fizz raised a brow, looking skeptical. 

“Am I going to reveal more depressing shit if I do?” he asked. Stolas laughed, shaking his head.

“No, I don’t believe so. Please,” he said, gesturing to the covering. Then he blinked. “Oh! I can also do it, of course, how rude -”

“I got it,” Fizz said, extending his legs to reach the height of the chandelier. Blitzø watched as he grabbed the covering with both hands, throwing it to the side and revealing sparkling jewels and a delicate, swirling golden frame. Fizz whistled, moving back to his normal height and putting his hands on his hips. Blitzø watched as he pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Who thought I’d need these for their actual function,” Fizz joked. Stolas laughed, covering his smile with his hand. 

‘Pompous, rich, asshole.’ That’s exactly what Blitzø had called him, in this very room. He worried at his lip, the memories rushing back. What a shitty, stupid fight. He remembered the expression on Stolas’ face before he teleported Blitzø outside. He’d never seen Stolas cry like that before - from being overstimulated after getting fucked all night, sure, but not from actually being upset. It was scary how much Stolas’ tears had affected Blitzø - how horrible he felt for making him feel that way. He didn’t usually give a shit. He always called it as he saw it. That’s just who he was. Everyone else needed to either deal with it or fuck off. But after he made Stolas cry, as he stood at the bottom of the front steps, he’d wondered if firing off insults with the intention to hurt had been worth it.

“I adored this chandelier as an owlet,” Stolas explained to Fizz. “Sometimes, when I was feeling particularly lonely, I would lay under it and feel better. Even when I got older, I would do that from time to time.”

“Why?” Fizz asked, curious. Blitzø noticed Stolas steal a glance at him before looking back at Fizz. 

“It reminded me of my first friend,” Stolas explained, a small smile on his face. Blitzø’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Fizz must’ve caught something in both of their expressions, seeming to piece it together. He grinned.

“Shit, right! I remember Blitzø telling me that he came here once! I thought his dad had finally sold him off to some rich family and he wasn’t coming back,” Fizz explained. 

“Yes, right. My father had requested that Blitzø come play with me for my birthday, since I had found him so funny at the circus,” Stolas explained awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands. “I figured money was involved, but truthfully I didn’t think much of it back then. I was just happy for the company.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t sweat it too much. I mean, Blitzø stole a shit-ton of stuff, right -?”

“Fizz,” Blitzø said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You messy bitch. Learn to keep your mouth shut.” He noticed Fizz’s mouth open in surprise. Then Fizz looked nervously at Stolas, who looked slightly surprised himself. 

“You, uh, didn’t know about that?” Fizz asked, letting out a nervous laugh. “I figured after Blitzø stole your book from you, you also knew that - shit,” Fizz said. “I made it awkward again.” Blitzø watched as Stolas turned to look at him.

“So when you suggested that we play pirates -?” Stolas asked. Blitzø caught Fizz’s wince. He frowned, crossing his arms and looking away.

“Remember that cockbag dad I mentioned? He - he didn’t give me much of a choice.” 

“He was a cockbag,” Fizz agreed, backing him up. “At least to Blitzø.” Stolas furrowed his brow. Then he sighed.

“I’m not angry, if that’s what you are concerned about,” Stolas said. Blitzø looked at him in surprise, and Stolas let out a weak laugh. “It’s not like myself or anyone else particularly missed whatever was stolen, given that it went unnoticed.” He paused, looking conflicted about something. “Did you - did you have fun, though, that day?”

“Oh,” Blitzø said, not expecting that question. “I - I don’t really remember, to be honest.”

“I remember,” Fizz said, rolling his eyes. “When you got back you spent the whole night bragging about how cool the place was, and how you got to do whatever you wanted, and how you got to see a bunch of cool stuff, and how the prince you played with did anything you told him to do -”

“Okay, we get it, Fizz -” 

“It was impossible to get you to shut the fuck up,” Fizz continued. “I almost hit you over the head with a juggling club.” Blitzø watched as Fizz looked up at Stolas, putting a hand on his hip. “Rest assured, your highness, he had fun.”

“Good,” Stolas said. Blitzø noticed his shoulders relax a little. 

“What else did you two end up doing that day?” Fizz asked. “I remember being so jealous. I ended up practicing my balloon animals all day, bored out of my fucking mind.”

“I have some memories of going outside at one point -” Stolas offered. 

“Oh yeah,” Blitzø said, starting to remember. “I think I remember something about climbing a big tree -” Stolas eyes lit up.

“Yes! We did go there. Wow, I haven’t gone over to that tree in a long time.”

“Then how about we go now?” Fizz suggested. “I’m worried I’ll stumble upon more of your depressing backstory if we go into more rooms. No offense,” he said to Stolas. Stolas smiled.

“That sounds like an excellent idea. I think some fresh air would do me well.” He paused. “It has felt quite stuffy in here today.”

“Are you feeling hot?” Blitzø asked, walking over to him and reaching to hold his hand. He saw Stolas’ surprised expression, and felt Fizz’s eyes on him too, although he wasn’t going to give Fizz the satisfaction of glancing over at him.

“Yes, I suppose I am,” Stolas said, blinking at him. “I didn’t even realize. Thank you.” 

“Should we portal over?” Blitzø suggested. Stolas smiled. 

“How about we walk? It’s not terribly far.”

“Okay, but, uh, keep holding my hand,” Blitzø muttered. “To be safe.” He watched as Stolas raised a brow. “Hey! I’m just trying to keep your ass off the ground. Let’s keep the collapsing in pain to a minimum, okay?”

“Right, let’s,” Stolas agreed. Of course hand-holding was a precaution, to make sure that Stolas didn’t collapse again, but selfishly, Blitzø also wanted to keep holding his hand. If that made him a simp, so be it. He just wondered if Stolas only saw it as a precaution, and nothing more. 

“As long as we go through the most boring, least trauma-ridden rooms you have on our way out,” Fizz requested. Stolas laughed.

“That can be arranged.”

Stolas looked up at the large tree backed by a pink afternoon sky. Its sturdy branches reached upwards and outwards, creating a canopy of shadow that Stolas used to love reading his books under. Rose-colored leaves clung to those branches in patches. Stolas wondered if they were due to fall soon. He took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air as he rested his hand on the trunk, feeling the smooth, black bark under his fingertips. 

“What’re you doing?” Fizz asked. Stolas turned to watch as Fizz moved his sunglasses to the edge of his nose, looking over at Blitzø. His gun was out and he was pacing around, looking in every direction with narrowed eyes. 

“I didn’t set up traps over here,” Blitzø said. “I wanna make sure Striker doesn’t get the drop on us.” Fizz put a hand on his hip.

“I doubt he’s here lurking in a bush, Blitzø,” he reasoned. Blitzø adjusted his grip on his gun.

“Did you already forget how he lassoed you and held you at fucking gunpoint, Fizz?” Blitzø asked. Stolas could see the tension in his shoulders. 

“Of course not,” Fizz said, holding his arms to his chest and looking sheepish. “That was scary as fuck.”

“And that’s what I’m trying to avoid."

“I can protect us, too,” Stolas offered, and Fizz and Blitzø turned to look at him. He cleared his throat. “I am not currently bound by blessed rope, so if he does show up, I can use my powers.” Stolas paused. “It would be nice to be able to hurt that fucker, for once,” he admitted. Fizz nodded.

“Okay,” Blitzø said, putting his gun away. “I’ll chill out. But don’t let your guard down. Things could get real shitty real fast if we got ambushed out here.”

“Wow,” Fizz said, pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Is that your ‘boss’ voice? You sound so commanding.” Blitzø grinned.

“Pretty sexy, right?” Fizz made a so-so gesture with his hand. Then Blitzø looked over at Stolas, as if he was waiting for his opinion. Stolas’ eyes widened. The last time he called Blitzø sexy was in the garden, and Blitzø looked like he was about to devour him after he did so. Just the thought of it made him shiver. 

‘He's only there for an easy fuck from a desperate prince.’ Stella’s words came to mind, unwanted. He knew they weren’t true, but it was also hard to ignore the sinister voices, both Stella’s and his own, that were trying to convince him that they were. Stolas cleared his throat and looked away, deciding not to answer as he felt his face flush.

“So does this mean you two haven’t left the palace since you portaled out of our place a few days ago?” Fizz asked, curious. 

“Actually, I was able to accompany Blitzø on one of his jobs!” Stolas said, feeling more at ease now that the subject had changed. Fizz raised a brow.

“Yeah, where’d you go? Burn down another amusement park? Blow the heads off of some henchmen?"

“We tracked down a horse in Wrath!” Stolas explained, and Fizz laughed.

“That’s right up Blitzø’s alley,” he said. “He was just as obsessed with horses when we were kids, you know. I thought he’d grow out of it, but -” Blitzø flipped him off.

“Why would I outgrow something that’s cool as fuck?” Blitzø asked. “Did you know horses don’t have a gag reflex?” Stolas laughed. Fizz scoffed.

“We talked about horses here, actually,” Stolas remembered. “Blitzø also said something about hiring me one day, or considering it, at least.” That got a real laugh out of Fizz.

“You told a prince that you’d maybe hire him?” Fizz asked, looking at Blitzø in disbelief. “You must’ve sounded like such a fucking idiot -”

“Yeah, whatever,” Blitzø said, crossing his arms. “Look who did end up starting his own business, bitch. And I had Stolas organizing my paperwork yesterday -”

“You made him do your paperwork?” Fizz asked. He shook his head. “You’ve always had the audacity to do crazy shit like that, I guess. You’re lucky Stolas humors you.”

“I wanted to do it,” Stolas explained, noticing the way Blitzø furrowed his brow. Then Stolas remembered something, and pulled out his phone. “I almost forgot - I managed to take some pictures of Blitzø on his horse in Wrath. Would you two like to see?”

“The fuck? When did you do that?” Blitzø asked, walking over to join Stolas. Fizz walked over as well, looking curious. 

“I happened upon some opportune moments,” Stolas said vaguely, waving his hand. “You just looked so happy that I couldn’t resist.” He went to sit down at the base of the tree, and Blitzø and Fizz sat on either side of him, looking at the pictures he swiped through as he held out his phone. 

“Some of these are blurry as fuck,” Fizz said with a laugh. Stolas laughed as well. 

“I was riding on the back of an incredibly fast horse demon while I took some of these,” he explained. He stopped on one picture in particular. “This is, in my opinion, the best one.” He looked at the photo himself, a small smile on his lips. 

He’d managed to sneak a photo while they were outside of the volcano, before they went back to the ranch. Blitzø was standing next to his horse - the white-speckled one. One hand was on the horse’s forehead, and Blitzø was saying sweet words to the horse as he stroked its jaw with his other hand. The horse seemed pleased, looking relaxed after having just been fed. Blitzø had a fond smile on his face, as well as an excited shine in his eyes. The two of them - Blitzø and his horse - were silhouetted by a blood red sky. Stolas felt lucky that he was able to capture such a softness in Blitzø, a softness that he’d seen glimpses of before, but would be gone so quickly he’d find himself wondering if he’d imagined it. Fizz pressed his shoulder against Stolas’, leaning in to get a better look.

“You look like some kind of fucking princess who talks to animals,” Fizz teased, glancing over at Blitzø, who was still looking at the picture.

“You did look quite happy,” Stolas said, feeling a warmth in his chest. 

“I had no idea you took this."

“Should I add stealth to my resumé?” Stolas joked. That got a scoff out of Blitzø. Then there was the sound of an unfamiliar ringtone. 

“Oh shit, that’s Ozz,” Fizz said. He moved to stand, holding his phone in his hand. “He must miss me,” he said, giving the two of them a wink. “I’ll be right back.” He extended his legs, moving upwards into the tree. Stolas craned his neck, managing to catch a glimpse of Fizz at the top of one of the highest branches, on the other side of the tree. He was swinging his legs, looking excited as he answered the phone.

“Hey Big Daddy,” Stolas barely managed to hear Fizz purr. 

“I was being such a dick to you,” Blitzø said quietly, and Stolas turned to look at him in surprise. Blitzø’s back was resting against the trunk, his head turned away so it was hard to read his expression. Stolas lowered his phone, waiting for him to continue. “And you still took pictures of me?” 

“I told you,” Stolas began. “I was looking forward to seeing you with horses. I - I do apologize for taking pictures without your permission. It’s just - I was worried I’d make you angry -” Blitzø finally turned to look at him, hurt and confusion in his expression.

“I wouldn’t -” Blitzø began, shaking his head. Then he sighed. “No, I get it. I kept lashing out and not explaining why.”

“It’s okay, Blitzø,” Stolas said softly. “We ended up talking through it eventually.”

“Yeah, when you were burning up in the middle of Striker’s old hideout,” Blitzø said, furrowing his brow. Stolas watched as Blitzø moved to hug his knees to his chest, looking straight ahead. “I’m such a piece of shit. I don’t get why you do nice things for me.”

“Oh Blitzø,” Stolas said with a sigh. He lifted his phone, pulling up that picture again. He held it out, waiting for Blitzø to look at it. “There are things - wonderful things - about yourself that the people who care about you can see so clearly, and yet, somehow, you are unable to see yourself." Stolas smiled at him. "That’s part of the reason I wanted to take these pictures, to show you what I see.” Blitzø put a hand on top of Stolas’ phone, gently pushing it down. Stolas lowered his phone, setting it on the ground and looking at Blitzø in confusion. Then his eyes widened as Blitzø put his other hand on his cheek.

“You’re burning up,” Blitzø said, a furrow in his brow. He was right. Without noticing, the heat had crept into Stolas’ chest, already radiating throughout his limbs. He puffed out his feathers, fluttering the muscles in his neck to try and cool down, but it barely helped. 

“Maybe my body is getting used to it,” Stolas suggested. Blitzø continued to frown.

“That’s not necessarily a good thing, Stols,” he pointed out, voicing Stolas’ own fear. As if to prove Blitzø's point, Stolas felt a sudden, lancing pain in his chest that had him doubling over, Blitzø’s hand slipping away from his face. He placed a hand on his forehead, feeling the burning heat there. 

“Fuck,” Stolas said, trying to catch his breath, disorientated by this sudden wave of heat. Maybe he had grown used to the feeling, but that clearly didn’t mean he was immune to it. 

“Let me try something,” Blitzø said, and Stolas looked over at him, his chest rising and falling. He dropped his hand from his forehead.

“O-okay,” he said. Blitzø cupped Stolas’ face with his hands, glowing yellow eyes searching Stolas' expression. He looked scared, scared and something else Stolas couldn’t put his finger on. He felt Blitzø’s thumb stroke his cheek, and then Blitzø leaned in to kiss him, slow and sweet. Stolas’ stomach swooped, butterflies swirling as he felt Blitzø’s lips gently caress his own. As easy as falling, Stolas closed his eyes, kissing him back. It was unhurried and careful, none of the desperate clash of teeth and beak and tongues they were used to. It made Stolas feel younger, as if he’d been transported back to innocent days of first crushes and warm afternoons, those simple moments unburdened by responsibility and sacrifices. Blitzø’s lips continued to slide against his mouth, and then he tilted his head to kiss Stolas at a new angle, still just as gentle and soft. Stolas clenched his fists in the rough grass, wondering how such a simple kiss could be so intoxicating, and how it somehow felt more dangerous than the kiss they had in the bathtub last night. 

Because he wanted this so badly. That was why. He wanted to be wanted, finally, and not merely for his body. He wanted to be loved, and he wanted to love someone deeply himself. No, it wasn’t simply a want anymore. He needed it. He needed to feel like someone in this world loved him, and would never decide to leave him to face the world alone. Stolas felt tears well up in his eyes as they kissed. The rejection he experienced on the full moon was so hard. He thought about what Blitzø had said, how he thought Stolas was attempting some new kind of roleplay. It was a miracle that Blitzø even tolerated him now, and wanted to be friends. It would be selfish to hope for love. Stolas knew - if he allowed himself to fully and sincerely hope for more, only for him to be proven wrong again - that it would break him. 

Blitzø moved his hand to hold the back of Stolas’ neck, slipping his tongue in as he deepened the kiss. Stolas’ eyes opened. He knew that he should end the kiss here, before he fell too deeply into this feeling, but he was selfish and weak. So he kissed Blitzø back, closing his eyes again and letting Blitzø gently push him back against the tree, straddling him as he placed his other hand against the bark by Stolas’ face. Blitzø hummed into his mouth, nipping at Stolas’ lower lip and swiping his tongue across it as if in apology. Stolas wrapped his hands around Blitzø’s neck as if in forgiveness. Blitzø continued to kiss him slowly, taking his time as he drew gasps out of Stolas' mouth, as if his childhood friend wasn’t somewhere in the tree above them, and then, as if Blitzø finally had his fill, he kissed the corner of Stolas’ beak, then his cheek, and then his forehead. He pulled away, reaching by his own neck to grab one of Stolas’ hands, looking up at him as he kissed the back of his hand. Stolas watched him, breathless, the promise of tears in his eyes. How could Blitzø kiss him like that and not feel what Stolas was feeling? Because as he breathed in the fresh air, oxygen returning to his brain, providing clarity, he realized that Blitzø must’ve done all that to try and make the heat go away faster. And Blitzø’s intuition was correct, because Stolas did feel better physically, although his emotions were a storm. 

“Th-thank you,” Stolas said. He watched as Blitzø furrowed his brow in confusion. “It appears as if kissing does help with my condition, like you were guessing,” he said with a weak laugh. “A worthwhile experiment.”

“Oh,” Blitzø said, still straddling Stolas. He seemed to realize the position he was in, because he moved to sit next to Stolas again. “Right. That’s why I did that.” Stolas rested his head against the tree, looking up at the sky. 

“Do we have any fucking clue why that helps?” Stolas asked with a sigh, not expecting an answer.

“You sure it’s not a horniness thing?” Blitzø suggested, half-kidding. 

“Yes, I’m certain,” Stolas said dryly.

“And you’re feeling better now? You’re not just ignoring the pain?”

“Yes, it’s gone for now,” Stolas assured him. Blitzø nodded, hugging his knees to his chest again.

We’ll figure it out soon,” Blitzø said, not for the first time today. Then he paused. “Stols, I should tell you - I - the past few days -” In that same moment the leaves rustled from above them and Fizz fell from the tree, gracefully landing in the grass. 

“Ozzie and I just had phone sex,” he declared, sunglasses askew. Stolas choked.

“Want a fucking trophy?” Blitzø asked, stretching his legs and patting Stolas on the back until he caught his breath.

“Yes, actually. That shit’s not easy to do in a tree.” 

“You horny freak,” Blitzø said, shaking his head. Then Stolas’ stomach grumbled. He quickly put his hands over his stomach, hoping that no one heard, but Blitzø’s eyes were already on him. He watched as Blitzø moved to stand, brushing the dirt off the back of his black coat. “I’ll grab you some food.”

“You don’t have to - I can make a portal -” Stolas began, but Blitzø held up a hand, giving him a smile.

“I was also planning to steal some peony roots from that flower shop and make tea. So save your energy. I’ll be right back.” He paused, looking over at Fizz. “If you catch a glimpse of that fuckwad cowboy call me right away,” he looked over at Stolas again, “and portal back to the palace pronto, got it?” Stolas nodded, and Fizz moved to sit where Blitzø had been, extending his arm to wrap around Stolas’ shoulders and fixing his sunglasses.

“We’ll be fine, so get lost. It’s time that two of your childhood friends finally get some bondage - I mean - bonding time,” he teased, and Blitzø flipped him off. Then he shifted his attention back to Stolas, looking nervous all of a sudden.

“I want to finish our conversation later,” he said, both a sincerity and firmness in his gaze. Maybe a fondness, too. Stolas looked at him in confusion, wondering what Blitzø had been about to say that was so important. 

“Oh, um, yes. Okay,” he said, stumbling over his words, throat dry. He could still feel the ghost of Blitzø's lips on his. Blitzø gave him a nod, lingering in front of him a moment longer, and then he made a portal, stepping through it and leaving a waft of flowers behind.

Chapter Text

“Seems like we have a lot in common,” Fizz said, arm still wrapped around Stolas’ shoulder as they sat under the tree. “We knew Blitzø when we were kids. We were taken hostage by that douchenozzle who clearly has a stick up his ass, and not the sexy kind. We like getting freaky in the bedroom -” he listed off, keeping count with the fingers on his other hand. Stolas blushed. 

"What makes you so certain about that third thing?" Stolas found himself asking, curious. Fizz looked over at him with a smirk. 

"I can just tell," he said. "That, and I helped Blitzø pick out some new toys for you kinky freaks not too long ago." Stolas blinked at him. Then he remembered.

"Were you the one who gave him that incredibly large...vibrating, thing?" Stoals asked, unsure as to what to call it. Fizz's eyes lit up.

"The Dragon Driller 5000? Hell yeah I did! What'd you think of it? Pretty, awesome, right?"

"No, I mean, well, we never really had the chance to try it out," Stolas tried to explain, feeling sheepish. He clasped his hands together in his lap, keeping his back straight. He was suddenly feeling shy - he wanted Fizzarolli to like him. He also didn't feel like getting into the specifics as to why they'd never gotten around to trying it. That night was still hard to think about. “I am certain that it is an excellent product, though," he offered, and Fizz beamed at him.

"It's extremely popular. We'd basically sold out of it and were waiting for the next shipment when Blitzo came knocking, but I decided to give him the last one we had, you know, since he's an old friend that I don't fucking despise anymore."

"That's kind of you," Stolas said sincerely. He looked down at his hands. "Speaking of, I’ve found myself wondering - I mean - if you don’t mind me asking -”

“Ask me anything,” Fizz said, grinning at Stolas and waggling his eyebrows. “I’m an open book.”

“My favorite kind,” Stolas teased, giving him an appreciative smile. “I was just wondering what Blitzø was like growing up,” he confessed. “I only spent the day with him, so…” Fizz tapped his robotic finger to his chin, considering the question as he leaned back against the tree. 

“Blitzø was…” he began. Then he shot Stolas a sideways glance. “You can’t tell him I said any of this, alright?” Stolas nodded, pretending to zip his lips. Fizz seemed to consider his words for another moment, and Stolas waited patiently, curiosity growing. “Blitzø was special,” Fizz admitted. He retracted his arm from Stolas’ shoulder, his posture suddenly more serious. “Somehow he was convinced he deserved more than our shitty circus life, and he never seemed to give a damn about what random people thought about him.” Fizz shrugged. “I was pretty insecure when I was younger. Fuck, still am, I guess, but Ozzie helps me work through it. I always wanted everyone to like me, and was willing to be whoever or whatever was expected of me in order to make that happen, but shit like that comes with a price. Blitzø was smart enough to know that that price wasn’t worth it. A life where everybody likes you isn't a life you're living for yourself.” Stolas noticed the furrow in Fizz’s brow. “Honestly, I always wished I was more like him. I looked up to him, back then.” He laughed, although there was a note of bitterness in it. “But that asshole isn’t perfect. He never was. Because even if he didn’t care about being liked by everyone, he still wanted to feel useful, necessary, to the people he did give a shit about. And that can lead you down some fucked up roads, too." He paused. "I guess we both were scared of rejection, just in our own ways,” he finished, as if he was realizing that for himself just now.

“It seems like you cared a lot about each other,” Stolas offered. Then he frowned. “I have said that Blitzø was my first friend, but we were only friends for a day, and ‘friends’ is - truthfully - quite a stretch,” he began to explain. “But the two of you were clearly close, and knew a lot about each other.” He paused, considering how best to broach the subject, and whether it was even appropriate to broach it at all. He had this growing desire to better understand Blitzø, to support him as best he could, especially after Blitzø had been doing so much to support him the past few days. He wanted to learn more about who Blitzø was outside of Stolas’ version of him, the one that had majorly existed in his bedroom. Getting to see Blitzø work had been a good start, and now there was this golden opportunity to know more about his childhood. He decided to push forward. “How does a friendship like the one you two shared…get put on pause?” Stolas finally asked, curious eyes on Fizz. He remembered what Fizz had told him back at Asmodeus’ palace. Fizz had ‘hated Blitzø’s guts’. He couldn’t help but wonder what would have had to happen to cause such a rift in their friendship for so long. Fizz scoffed.

“What a polite way to put it,” he said. “What has Blitzø told you?”  

“All I know is that you two used to be friends, but then things became ‘complicated’ -” Stolas offered, and Fizz laughed, shaking his head.

“Right, complicated. Everything in Hell is so fucking complicated, isn’t it?” Fizz asked. Stolas let out his own bitter laugh.

“Very much so.” He watched as Fizz moved to rest his hands behind his head, continuing to lean back against the tree. His sunglasses were resting on the edge of his nose. 

“How did our friendship get fucked for so long, huh? You should really hear this from him and not me,” Fizz said, looking straight ahead. “What I can tell you is that there was a fire that started at the circus,” he said, and Stolas’ eyes widened. He vaguely remembered reading about this in a newspaper many years ago, over breakfast. It had reminded him of the performance he saw for his birthday. He remembered feeling sad as he read the article, wondering whatever happened to his first friend. 

“How did it start?” Stolas asked, remembering how that detail was missing from the article, only incorporating speculations rather than a concrete catalyst. Fizz continued to look ahead of him, towards the open field. The palace wasn’t too far, visible in the distance. 

“It was an accident,” Fizz said with a shrug. “It doesn’t really matter how it happened, at least it doesn’t matter to me anymore,” he continued. “It’s more what happened after. People got hurt,” he said, pointing to his own face, and wiggling his robotic limbs to make his point. “And-” his expression grew somber. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes. “And people died.”

“Is that why Blitzø has those scars?” Stolas asked. The furrow in Fizz’s brow was the confirmation he needed.

“None of us were really the same after that,” Fizz continued. “Blitzø - well, he lost the people who cared about him, all in one night, one way or another.” Stolas frowned, trying to piece everything together to try and understand what Fizz wasn’t telling him. Then he remembered certain things that Blitzø had said the past few days.

‘Does it matter if it was an accident? I still hurt her.’

‘I’m glad the explosion I caused didn’t blow your earholes off, either.’

“He started it,” Stolas said quietly. Fizz finally glanced over at him, meeting his gaze, although it was hard to discern his expression behind those sunglasses. Then Stolas remembered the nightmare Blitzø had, the one where he was begging someone not to go –

I’m sorry! Mom -’

Stolas covered his mouth with one of his hands. As he began to process the gravity of what he’d just realized, he could feel the familiar burn of incoming tears. He fought them back. Oh Blitzø. Fizz looked at him in curiosity, and Stolas dropped his hand from his mouth, clasping both hands together as if in prayer, as ridiculous as that was.

“His mother, did she -?” Stolas found himself whispering, and Fizz frowned, looking down. A moment of heavy silence passed between them. Then Stolas watched as Fizz moved to stand.

“I’ve probably said too much,” he said, letting out a nervous laugh. “I mean, it’s my fucking tragic backstory too, but I still think you should talk to Blitzø about the rest of it.” He looked down at Stolas, his sunglasses pushed down again and a small smile on his lips as he held out his hand. “And I hope he does, one day.” Stolas accepted it, Fizz helping him to his feet. “Now let’s bring up the mood, eh?” he suggested, putting a hand on his hip and pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “I’m not used to bumming people out so much. Don’t tell anyone, okay? It’ll ruin my rep.” Stolas managed a laugh, giving him a nod.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” he assured him, brushing the dirt off his robe. He blushed when he realized that he was still wearing it. He’d become so used to being informal. He couldn’t even remember the last time he wore his typical, more royal attire. Truthfully, it was refreshing to not feel the need to keep up any sort of regal appearance. He felt more like himself, in a way. Stripped down emotionally as well as literally. He smiled, the thought amusing him. “Any ideas as to what we should do while we wait for Blitzø?” he asked. He watched as Fizz began to think. After a moment’s pause his eyes lit up.

“I have something fun and educational we can do,” he declared, putting his fist in his hand and looking up at Stolas. “Sound good?” Stolas matched his grin, already excited.

“I dunno know what the fuck I’m do-inggg,” Blitzø sang to himself, chopping up a clump of peony roots at the kitchen counter as he stood on the golden step stool. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, looking to see smeared blood. Yes, he did have to shoot the flower shop hag. She gave him no choice, but he didn’t kill her. He smiled to himself, impressed by his own restraint. It would’ve been so much easier to just let him steal more peonies from the backroom, but no, she had to go totally fucking crazy again. He’d tried to explain that he needed them for a good reason, but did the bitch listen? Of course not. Instead she started swearing at him and calling him a 'devil lizard'. Rude bitch. Blitzø shook his head. 

The tea kettle started to screech and he turned off the burner, which he'd cranked all the way up. Then he put his hands on his hips, not knowing what to do next. Should he add the roots to the kettle? Should he pour the water into one of Stolas’ mugs first? Blitzø stroked his chin, contemplating. 

“Eh, fuck it.” He decided with a shrug, opening the lid of the kettle, scooping up the chopped up root bits, and dropping them in. He figured he’d wait a couple minutes and then pour the water into a mug. If it tasted like shit, he’d say something about how all good medicine is supposed to taste terrible. That’s what his mom would tell him and Barb, at least. 

Next he looked at the plate of pancakes he just warmed in the microwave, which were also on the counter. Hopefully Stolas liked them and he hadn't fucked them up somehow. They seemed pretty good when he tried one. A secret part of him missed when the two of them made pancakes together. He found himself wanting to do that again, even though it was a domestic as fuck thing to want. He found himself reaching over to pick up the now stemless peonies. He grabbed a purple one with his left hand, and then a red one and a white one with his right hand. He got a waft of their strong, floral scent. He wondered how flowers that looked so pretty and weak could be so durable. Then he contemplated the distance between his hands, and slowly brought them together, the three flowers pressing together in a small bouquet. A smile tugged at his lips as a warm, fond feeling filled his chest. He thought about kissing Stolas under the tree, the same place they spent time together as kids. It felt like a full circle moment, maybe even fate if Blitzø was enough of a dumbass to believe in something like that. He thought about the picture Stolas had showed him, and about how Stolas apparently saw these so-called wonderful things in him. He scoffed, but his expression as he looked down at the flowers was still soft. 

When Stolas had ended their arrangement Blitzø had gone on a bit of a spiral afterwards. Nothing crazy, but it did make him realize that he cared about that nerdy, horny, bird prince more than he’d thought. He’d figured he’d have to get over it, because there was no chance Stolas would let him back into his life. But somehow, he managed to worm his way back in, and the past few days they learned more about each other than Blitzø would’ve ever expected. That attraction that Blitzø had tried to extinguish had sparked and grew into something steadier - into real feelings. Feelings he wanted to explore further. So yeah, maybe they could give this relationship thing a try, as intimidating as shit as that was. 

He imagined him, Stolas, Loona, and Via going on trips together. The girls seemed like they were already thick as thieves, and the thought of them hanging out more made him happy. He thought about lazy Sundays with Stolas on his couch, watching crap TV and eating junk food. He thought about Stolas stopping by the office with coffee, them sitting together in his chair while Blitzo told him about the job they just finished, Stolas flashing him that adorable smile. He thought about the two of them seeing fireworks in the human realm again, and breakfast in bed, and Stolas teaching him more about the stars, or reading him some book he liked, or the two of them making out and then having it naturally lead to more with no strings attached, just sincere attraction and care and fun -

He lifted up the peonies to smell them, his smile growing. The petals were soft under his nose. He forgot the last time he felt so hopeful about something. Maybe a pretty thing could be durable, too. Then he realized what he was doing and shook his head, gently placing the flowers back on the counter.

“Thank Satan Fizz isn’t here,” Blitzø muttered, although he glanced around just in case anyway. Once he felt reassured that the coast was clear he crossed his arms, looking back at the peonies as he tried to think. Once Fizz left he’d tell Stolas how he felt, and how he thinks they should give a relationship a shot. He had a feeling Stolas would say yes, given how he kissed him in the bathtub, and kissed him back today when he was sober. It had to be more than him trying to cure himself, right? This certainly felt like more than friendship, and definitely more than some pre-determined agreement.

He thought about Millie and Moxxie’s relationship. Could he and Stolas be like them one day? He felt his face heat up, and he quickly pinched his arm. He was getting way ahead of himself. What M&M had was a one-in-a-million type of thing, and the two of them deserved to be happy and in love. Blitzø wasn’t sure he could say the same about himself. He also wasn’t entirely sure if he was ready to love someone. The idea of losing another person he loved was terrifying. But the idea of dying alone was terrifying, too. And the idea of being nothing more than Stolas’ friend didn’t sit right with him either. Blitzø took a deep breath, opening the cabinet above him and pulling out the mug with the words ‘I’M A HOOT’ on it. He grabbed the kettle with his other hand and poured the now steeped, honey-colored liquid into the mug. The steam that curled out of it smelled earthy. Blitzø looked down at it in curiosity, and then lifted the mug to his lips, taking a small sip. He set the mug down, frowning. Yeah, it sucked.

“I guess the point isn’t for it to taste good,” Blitzø reasoned. He really hoped that it helped, even slightly. If it cured Stolas that’d be even better, but he had a feeling that’d be too fucking easy. Not for the first time, he thought through what Fizz had told him, reviewing the information they had so far. The bullet that Striker shot Stolas with put some kind of curse on him, a curse that made him feel like his insides were burning, and the pain wouldn’t go away for good until the curse was somehow broken. And it seemed like Blitzø could help, but not cure Stolas completely. 

“This is so fucking confusing,” Blitzø said, flicking his tail in agitation. He let out a frustrated sigh. “Whatever, one shitty step at a time,” he decided, carefully arranging the three flowers on the plate with the warmed pancakes and putting his hands on his hips. Then he stepped off the step stool and looked through the lower cabinets for a tray. He found a simple, ebony-colored one, and put the plate and mug on it. Balancing the tray expertly with one hand, he lifted his other wrist, ready to open a portal in front of the tree. But then an idea popped into his head. He grinned.

It wasn’t every day that he got to listen in on his childhood best friend and his ex hanging out without him. Never in a million years would he have expected that the two of them would be spending quality time together as he made fucking floral tea. He had a feeling they were getting along, but who knew for sure? And who knew what they could possibly be talking about? Knowing Fizz he probably asked Stolas to name all his favorite kinks in alphabetical order, and knowing Stolas he probably started squawking after Fizz applied a little peer pressure. He rolled his eyes fondly. 

That’s why he was going to make a portal higher up in the tree branches and spy on them. Only for a few minutes - he wasn’t crazy - and then he’d pop down to surprise them. He laughed to himself, thinking about all the times he’d do this to Millie and Moxxie. It was kind of exciting spying on new people for a change, although he’d never get tired of the way Moxxie would glare at him.  

He expertly licked shapes (yes, he’d been fucking practicing) into his crystal, and soon the portal opened to reveal one of the thicker tree branches, covered in leaves. The perfect place to hide. He went back to holding the tray with two hands and quietly stepped through the portal and onto the tree branch, the portal closing behind him. He carefully set the tray down on the branch, adjusting it until it was stable. Once he was sure it was secure he moved to sit down himself. In a stroke of bad luck he quickly lost his footing and slipped, scrambling to grab the branch before he fell and ruined his plan. 

“Shit,” Blitzø cursed under his breath, lifted himself up until he was laying stomach-down on the branch. He readjusted, scooting forward and flipping over until he was finally sitting. When he looked down, he quickly spotted the tops of Fizz and Stolas’ heads. They were sitting a few feet away from the base of the tree, facing each other. It looked like Stolas had changed out of his robe, into a simple t-shirt and shorts. Blitzø strained his ears, trying to be as still as possible. It didn’t seem like they’d noticed him, whatever conversation they were having continuing on without pause. He grinned, resting his palms on the branch and kicking his feet, looking forward to hearing whatever crazy shit those two were talking about. Maybe Blitzø would even learn about some secret kinks Stolas had. It could be valuable information for the both of them if they really did start a relationship. That warm, tentative hope filled his chest once more. Looking down at Stolas, seeing the way the light caught his feathers, hearing the gentle warble of his voice, Blitzø decided to let that hope grow, just a little.  

“Self-defense moves?” Stolas asked, nervously holding his arms to his chest as he looked down at Fizz, who was standing confidently in front of him.

“We don’t all have magic powers,” Fizz reasoned, holding out a hand. Stolas hesitated, looking between Fizz's confident grin and his open palm, and then he took it, letting Fizz lead him away from the tree. “And no offense, but it seems like having powers did jack shit every time Striker tried to kill you.”

“Hm. You have a point,” Stolas conceded, “although I’m not sure how our bare hands would face against a holy gun.” 

“Hey, you never know. Better to be over-prepared than underprepared, yeah? Besides, this will be fun, or funny, at least.” Stolas smiled.

“If you say so.” He watched as Fizz rubbed his hands together.

“Okay, so Ozzie was the one who taught me these,” he explained. “He was way too sexy when he was showing me how to do them - embodiment of lust and all that - so we definitely got distracted, but I remember some of them, kind of. Let me think -” as Fizz figured out where to start Stolas used his magic to change into more athletic clothing - namely a simple pair of black shorts and a dark purple shirt. He wasn’t about to do all of this in a robe, no matter how comfortable it was. Fizz snapped his fingers, seeming to remember something.

“Right! This is a good one,” he said, taking off his sunglasses and extending his arm to set them down by the tree trunk. “Okay, so pretend I’m Striker,” he began. “Uh, what’s a good impression of him? I was too busy trying not to freak the fuck out and avoid dying to really notice his whole deal.”

“Hmm,” Stolas hummed, considering the question. “I suppose he’d say something like - ‘looks like I’ve caught you, partner. Now I’m gonna start with killin’ you and then every other blue blood I can get my villainous hands on’,” he offered, attempting a gritty, southern accent. Fizz shot him a skeptical look.

“Yeah? Okay, I can work with that I guess.” Stolas suddenly felt Fizz’s arms wrap around him. “We meet again, partner,” Fizz said, now standing behind Stolas as he held him in a bear hug. He’d extended his legs so he was closer to Stolas’ height. Stolas couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey, I’m trying to teach you how to save your life, here,” Fizz said, although he sounded amused too. 

“Apologies,” Stolas said, although he was still smiling. “You caught me again, Striker, or so you think!” 

“You think you can escape, blue blood?” Fizz asked, getting more into character. “Then try it, partner!” Stolas turned his head all the way around, blinking at Fizz. “Fuck!” Fizz said, loosening his grip. Stolas furrowed his brow in confusion. Then he realized what caused Fizz’s reaction.

“This is perfectly normal for owls,” Stolas explained, head still turned all the way around. Fizz continued to at him in surprise, then seemed to think of something, smirking instead.

“Ever do that in the bedroom? I can only imagine the possibilities -” he began to ask. Stolas felt his face heat up, but then he scoffed. He was getting used to Fizz’s playful questions. They were pretty amusing. 

“Perhaps,” Stolas said, choosing to be coy. “Now how exactly am I supposed to evade capture here?” 

“Right,” Fizz said. “So you have a few options. A classic one is to slam your arm backwards, hitting them in the balls,” he instructed. “Or, if they don’t have balls to hit, you could try to reach down between your legs and grab their leg, pulling it forward so you fall on top of them. Want to try the second one?” Stolas felt Fizz’s grip tighten around him again. 

“I’m shocked you don't want me to try the other version,” Stolas teased, turning his head to face forwards once more. He heard Fizz’s scoff in his ear. Then he took a breath, clenching his fists, arms currently trapped under Fizz’s hold. He threw his body forwards, bending down to reach his long arms between his legs to grab onto one of Fizz’s, easily forcing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground, Stolas falling on top of him.

“Oof!” Fizz groaned, both of them now tangled together in the grass. He loosened his grip. “Good job,” he said, and Stolas moved to get off him, laying in the grass next to him and looking up at the sky.

“Should I hit you in the balls now?” Stolas asked. Fizz laughed, resting his hands on his stomach.

“Yeah let’s pass on that part,” he said. Stolas glanced over to catch him looking up at the sky as well. "You’re strong for someone who’s light as fuck.”

“I’m not totally helpless, you know,” Stolas said defensively, although there was no real bite in it. “It’s just difficult when your attacker comes prepared, and finds you when you are especially unprepared.” He sighed. “Your decisions also become limited when they threaten the people you love.” Fizz let out a somber hum of agreement. They laid there in the grass for a lingering moment. Stolas could hear the quiet rustling of leaves.  

“I still feel guilty for making Ozzie panic like that when I got held for ransom,” Fizz confessed, breaking the peaceful silence. “He told me it’d be a bad idea to go out on my own, but I convinced him I’d be fine. I was so stupid, making him worry like that, almost making him sign some fucked-up contract.” Stolas looked over at him, surprised and touched by his openness. 

“None of that was your fault,” Stolas said honestly. “The ones to blame are the ones who took you hostage.”  

“I should’ve listened to him, though,” Fizz said with a frown.

“You wanted to be free to go where you wanted, and I assume Asmodeus wanted you to do able to do that, even if he was worried,” Stolas pointed out. No one liked being a prisoner, and Asmodeus was much better than Stolas, not having to learn how it wasn’t right to make someone else feel like one. He stole another glance at Fizz, who didn’t look entirely convinced. He decided to lift himself up on his elbows, looking out at the open field. “You must think I’m irredeemably idiotic for being captured twice, and almost assassinated once, yes?” 

“He almost assassinated you, too?” Fizz said, moving to sit up as well. “Shit, he’s obsessed with you.”

“Him and my ex-wife, apparently,” Stolas said, rolling his eyes. “Certainly a match made in Hell.” Fizz scoffed. Then he shook his head.

“You weren’t an idiot. You’re right - it’s tough when they’re prepared and you’re not,” he finally agreed. He gave Stolas a small smile. “You’re pretty good at making people feel better, huh?”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Stolas said, looking away from Fizz. He thought it was quite the opposite, really. This was the rare occasion where he somehow managed to say the right thing. He moved to stand. “Shall we practice another one of these self-defense moves?” Fizz grinned and sprung to his feet.

“Have you ever flipped someone over your shoulder before?” he asked. Stolas let out a surprised laugh.

“I cannot say that I’ve had the opportunity.” 

“It’s pretty straightforward,” Fizz began. He moved to stand in front of Stolas, extending his legs so that they were about the same height once more. He placed his hands on Stolas’ shoulders. “Put your hands on my shoulders, and make sure they’re on the inside.” Stolas did as he was told. “Great, now turn around and step away from me, pulling me with you.” 

“Okay,” Stolas said. He turned until his back was facing Fizz. “What now?”

“Grab my arm and bend over,” he said. “And don’t tell Blitzø I told you to bend over, because he’d probably consider shooting me.” Stolas scoffed. 

“I’d be more worried about Asmodeus, personally,” he argued. “I have a sneaking suspicion that Blitzø would enjoy the idea of us being physically intimate.” Fizz laughed. 

“You make a good point. I wouldn’t put it past him that that’s a fantasy of his,” he agreed, amused. “Anyway, as you bend over make sure to use use your momentum to keep pulling me forward. Then roll me off your hip so I hit the ground. The point is to make your attacker hit the ground hard enough that it knocks the wind right out of 'em.”

“Got it,” Stolas said with a nod. 

“Now show me what you got,” Fizz said, attempting a southern accent. "Or have I caught you off guard again, partner?" he added, voice low and menacing in his ear. Stolas thought about how frustrated and useless he felt a few days ago, powerless to fight back against Striker, needing someone to save him again. He was a Goetia, for fuck’s sake. He also thought about the concerned expressions he’d caught on Blitzø’s face the past fews days. Blitzø probably saw him as this fragile, weak thing that needed to be taken care of. And Stolas didn’t blame him - he had been such a burden the past few days, all because he ended up in that warehouse, helpless as Striker shot him. Striker was prepared and Stolas was not, yes, but next time Stolas would be ready. That fucker wouldn't get the best of him ever again.

With this newfound determination, he used all his strength to pull Fizz forward as he bent down, feeling Fizz’s weight on his back. Next he flipped Fizz over his shoulder in one fluid motion. However, he had horribly miscalculated. 

“Oh SHIT!” Like a shooting star, or a some kind of rocket, Fizz was flying through the air, up and away from the tree and limbs flailing. Stolas' jaw dropped, eyes wide as he watched the distance grow between them, and then he shook his head, quickly reaching out his hands and using his magic to stop Fizz’s speedy descent. He hurried across the open field towards him, slowly lowering his arms as he gently brought Fizz downwards. He watched as Fizz’s feet touched the ground, seemingly unharmed, and Stolas let out a sigh of relief. Then he noticed how Fizz was standing there unmoving, eyes wide. 

“I am so sorry, Fizzarolli -” Stolas said, hurrying over to him and reaching out his hands to check on him. Then he pulled back before he touched him, unsure as to what to do, or what Fizz was thinking. Oh if Asmodeus knew -

“That was fucking crazy,” Fizz finally said, putting a hand on his forehead. Stolas winced, feeling terrible. He should’ve been more careful. He always seemed to find a way to mess up -

“I did not mean to - I am truly sorry -” Stolas began again, but Fizz held up his other hand to stop him. Anxiety churned in Stolas’ stomach. That burning heat sparked up in his chest - not spreading like a wildfire just yet - but reminding him not to forget about it. 

“That was fucking crazy,” Fizz repeated, “but also really fucking fun. Holy shit.”

“What?” Stolas asked, not expecting that response at all. Fizz dropped his hand, meeting Stolas' gaze.

“I’m a famous clown, Stolas,” Fizz said. “I grew up in a circus. And I’m with the king of lust - it’s not like I’ve never been flung around before. I just wasn’t expecting it from you.”

“Oh,” Stolas said dumbly. Then he let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You never cease to surprise me, Fizzarolli.”

“Call me Fizz,” he said with a smirk. “It’s not like I’m calling you ‘your highness’ all the time.” 

“Okay,” Stolas said, failing to hold back his smile. “Fizz.” Fizz gave him a nod. 

“Thanks for catching me. I might be used to getting flung around, but I try to avoid face planting into the ground when I can.” 

“Understandable,” Stolas said, amused. “Thank you for the lesson. Maybe I’ll be able to throw Striker into the sky one day.”

“Fuck, I hope so. That guy really gives me the creeps,” Fizz agreed, letting out a small shiver before moving to sit down. He gestured for Stolas to join him, and Stolas did just that, tucking his legs under him as he faced Fizz. They were closer to the tree now, and Fizz reached over to grab his sunglasses, putting them on his forehead. He looked Stolas up and down, seeming to assess him. “I guess I should’ve figured you’d be stronger than you look, being a demon prince and all. Have you ever topped?” 

“What -? Oh! Um, I - well -” Stolas stuttered out, caught off guard. Fizz waved his hand. 

“You don’t have to answer that. But if you haven’t, I bet Blitzø would secretly love it,” he said with a shrug. Stolas blinked at him, storing that information for later. Then he shook his head. There was no point in holding onto information that would never be necessary. 

“I think you have the wrong idea -” Stolas began. Then he heard the leaves rustling above him again, but it sounded louder and more abrupt than something a simple breeze could produce. He tilted his chin upwards, but saw nothing of note. It had probably been some kind of small creature. 

“You know, Blitzø was saying the same kind of thing, but I don’t think I’m convinced,” Fizz said, leaning back on his palms. 

“Oh? What did Blitzø say?” Stolas asked, trying not to sound too desperate to know the answer. Fizz shrugged.

“He said that this was just a job, but also that he likes spending time with you. I dunno, he was cagey as fuck about it. I mean, I saw how he hugged you back when you were at me and Ozzie's place. And you should've heard him when we told him you got injured -"

Blitzø had told Fizz that this was just a job. Stolas hated the way that such simple piece of information made something constrict in his chest. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know that, already. But it was another thing to have it confirmed. 

“Blitzø and I are friends, now,” Stolas said. "That is probably what you were picking up on." But Fizz didn’t look like he was buying it. 

“You really haven’t, you know, done anything the past few days?” Fizz asked. Stolas felt his face heat up, and Fizz grinned, pointing at him. “I knew it! You two are still into each other. Blitzø claimed you weren’t fucking but -”

“No!” Stolas said, with a little more force than he’d intended. Fizz’s eyes widened in surprise. “I mean - it’s not -” He moved to hug his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them and avoiding Fizz’s gaze, feeling suddenly exposed. “We aren’t, really. Maybe we have kissed, but only twice. And we aren’t - whatever we had before was only physical. We’re friends now. I enjoy spending time with him - I missed him - but it’s nothing more than that. It can’t be.”

“Why not?” Fizz asked, tone a bit gentler this time. Stolas scoffed, hearing the bitterness in it, bitterness that he’d been trying so hard not to feel, because there was no one to blame but himself. 

“Maybe there had been a chance for there to be something more between us, at one point. I am really not sure,” Stolas tried to explain. "But it’s one-sided now, that I do know.” He glanced over at Fizz and watched him raise a brow, waiting for Stolas to continue. “Blitzø and I kissed,” he confessed, gesturing to the trunk of the tree, “when you were on the phone with Asmodeus. It was - I wanted it, and yet, it also hurt. Because Blitzø and I simply aren’t on the same page, and it is just too hard to be with someone in - in that way when you aren’t on equal footing. Not just too hard, it is unfair to both parties. It is best for us to be friends, and nothing more.” Stolas heard the leaves rustle again, that small animal probably moving about the branches once more. He exhaled, looking down at the grass. 

“But what do you want?” Fizz asked. “Forget what’s ‘best’ or ‘fair’ - what’re you feeling?” Fizz asked, curious. Stolas scoffed.

“Asmodeus has really rubbed off on you. That sounds exactly like something the king of lust would say.”

“We’ve rubbed each other off plenty,” Fizz agreed with a wink. Stolas rolled his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“I want -” Stolas began, furrowing his brow. He wasn’t used to people asking him what he wanted, besides the imps who were tasked with doing so. And Blitzø. Blitzø had always been so good at drawing Stolas’ wants out of him, and telling Stolas what he wanted in return. That’s why he knew Blitzø didn’t desire a real relationship like Stolas did. He would’ve told Stolas that he wanted one, wouldn’t he have? “I want Blitzø to be happy,” Stolas said sincerely, voice thick with meaning. “I want him to have every success and every happiness that he deserves, and he deserves so much of both. And I want to be in his life, in whatever capacity he’ll have me.” Stolas confessed. Then he scoffed, feeling the sting of tears. “I know it sounds pathetic.”

“It does,” Fizz agreed, and Stolas nodded, “but only because you’re holding back.” Stolas looked at him in surprise. “Again, what do you want, Stolas? For yourself? If you could have your ‘happy ending’ or whatever-the-fuck any of us can get in Hell. C’mon, be honest.” Stolas frowned, swallowing thickly and looking back down at the grass, still hugging his knees to his chest. 

“I would want to be in a relationship - a real one - with Blitzø,” Stolas finally confessed. “I - well the past few days I have come to realize that I love Blitzø, but I’m also terrified of doing something that will make him feel coerced again, or tricked. I feel like I’m already doing that,” Stolas said with a bitter laugh. “He’s trapped here with me and I can't help but worry that he is too kind to leave. And now my feelings for him are growing radically out of control and he has no idea. But if he did know, he’d probably feel uncomfortable, or even manipulated -”

“Wait, let’s back up a bit - you love him?” Fizz asked. Stolas still couldn’t meet his gaze, but he nodded.

“Desperately,” Stolas confessed, throat raw. “I had feelings for him before all of this happened,” he explained, gesturing to his chest, “but the past few days made me realize that I’m -” he exhaled, giving Fizz a wavering smile. “I’m in love with him. Terribly, irreparably so.” He felt tears well up in his eyes, and he pressed his forehead his knees to hide them. “I’m so fucked, Fizz. I know I need to manage my expectations. I was entirely too greedy before, giving Blitzø the crystal and asking him to stay if he wanted to. It was so stupid to hope that he would want to stay, after everything I did to him. I cannot allow myself to get my hopes up again, to ask for more again, because being rejected at this point would destroy me -”

“Hey, take a breath, Stolas,” Fizz said, scooching forwards to get closer to him. He felt Fizz’s hands rest on his knees and Stolas lifted his face to look at him, eyes blurry with tears. “Didn’t you say that you two kissed, like, maybe less than an hour ago?” Fizz asked gently, a reassuring smile on his face. “Would Blitzø kiss you if he only thought of you as a friend?”

“To help cure me, yes,” Stolas said firmly. “That is why he did it. Not because he has feelings for me. Only to help me with this curse. A kindness from a friend.” Fizz furrowed his brow. “It is okay,” Stolas assured him. “A friendship is more than I deserve. So I will be happy to be Blitzø’s friend.” It’s not as if Stolas was unused to pushing his feelings down for the sake of those he loved. That was basically the foundation of his whole fucking marriage. It was second nature to him at this point. He could do this. 

“You sure you don’t wanna tell Blitzø how you feel?” Fizz offered. “I can’t say anything for sure, but he may surprise you. He has a knack for going against people's expectations of him.” He rolled his eyes as he said that last part, although his smile was fond. Stolas shook his head.

“It's not a risk I am willing to take,” Stolas said simply. “I never want to ask for too much from him ever again. I refuse to. For his sake as well as my own.” Fizz nodded, although he still didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“All I know for sure is that I want my oldest friend and my newest friend to be happy,” Fizz offered, tapping Stolas on the knee, “so I wish you both the best, whatever that is.” Stolas gave him a watery smile.

“Newest friend?” Stolas repeated. Fizz grinned. 

“If you think Blitzø’s a good friend just you wait,” he said. “Blitzø's gonna be so jealous when I become your best friend. You won’t even need that dickhead anymore.” Stolas scoffed, wiping the tears from his eyes with his wrists.

“You two are so funny,” he said. Fizz helped him wipe away his tears, giving him a comforting smile. 

“It comes with being raised in a circus. That and a fucked-up childhood. Now let’s figure out what in Satan’s dickhole is taking Blitzø so long,” Fizz suggested. Stolas nodded in agreement. He felt lighter, having finally confessed his feelings to someone, but there was still a heaviness that remained, a heaviness related to coming to terms with the fact that he'd never get what he truly wanted, and would have to find a way to accept that. But that was better than losing Blitzø entirely, or hurting him again. Stolas wouldn’t be able to bear something like that.

After Blitzø portaled back to the kitchen, thoughts spiraling as he set the mug and plate back on the table, he found himself heading for Stolas’ garden, clenching and unclenching his fists as he tried to ignore the way his bottom lip wobbled, too-familiar feelings of anger and embarrassment flaring in his chest.

‘It’s nothing more than that.’ 

‘It’s one-sided.’

‘Blitzø and I aren’t on the same page.’

“It’s too hard to be with someone when you aren’t on equal footing.’

Blitzø had heard all of it, and each new remark felt like he was being stabbed in the chest. He would’ve rather been literally stabbed than to have heard each honest thing Stolas felt about him as he hid in that fucking tree like an idiot. He reached Stolas’ garden, some of the plants wiggling and snapping their jaws when he passed them, as if in friendly greeting. He inhaled the strange mix of fragrances and dirt. He looked around at the many vibrant colors, noticing the glint of sunlight from above as he tried to find anything that could distract him from processing what he wasn’t meant to hear. Because he didn’t want to believe it. He thought he’d been doing a good job of preparing himself for potential rejection, for the bitter sting of disappointment, but did anyone, even the most realistic asshole really know how prepared they were until they were faced with the bad outcome? 

He clenched his fists again and realized that he was still holding one of the peonies. He raised his hand, unfurling his fingers to reveal a red peony in front of his eyes. He looked at it, seeing how some of the petals had fallen off, and how the flower as a whole was crushed and out-of-shape because of him. 

“Fuck!” Blitzø yelled, throwing it as far as he could. He watched it arc in the air before falling in the dirt by some of Stolas’ roses, looking pathetic in comparison. Blitzø put his head in his hands. He just felt so fucking stupid. Why did he think being here with Stolas the past few days was a good idea? Stolas could’ve stayed at Ozzie’s and he would’ve been fine. He didn’t need Blitzø to protect him. But Blitzø was selfish. He’d gotten too greedy, fooling himself into believing that he hadn’t actually fucked any chance he had with Stolas, thinking that redemption was possible in Hell. What a naive dumbass he’d been. 

And he thought Stolas had changed, but clearly he hadn’t. The only thing that changed was that Stolas finally realized what Blitzø knew all along - Stolas was never actually going to be in a relationship with someone who wasn’t his ‘equal’. They weren’t on equal footing - that’s what Stolas thought of Blitzø. The fucking truth had finally come out. Stolas would always see Blitzø as something lesser than, because he was a prince and Blitzø was some random imp. All the bullshit Stolas had said to him on the full moon really was some half-baked fantasy. Fuck, what if Blitzø had said that he wanted to stay that night? Stolas would’ve probably realized how bad of an idea it was the next morning and kicked him out, taking it back. Shit. And Stolas had the audacity to be a petty bitch about Blitzø not believing him. It wasn’t Blitzø’s fault for knowing Stolas could never possibly want someone like him for more than sex before Stolas got it through his own thick skull. That bird bitch's brain was full of facts about space and plants but no common sense. 

But why did Stolas kiss him back, if he knew that Blitzø wanted him but didn’t feel the same, at least not anymore? If he knew that Blitzø’s feelings for him were one-sided? What kind of manipulative asshole did that? He clenched his jaw, dropping his hands from his face. He would. Blitzø himself had done that plenty of times before, right before he’d break things off. He never knew how absolutely shitty it felt being on the other end of things. 

“I should send Verosika a fucking gift basket,” Blitzø muttered. Although he guessed that’d only piss Verosika off at this point. Then Blitzø heard the familiar sound of his ringtone. He pulled out his phone, seeing Ozzie’s name. He stared at it for a moment, letting it ring. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone right now, but it was probably important. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, answering the phone. He held it up to his ear, putting his other hand on his hip. 

“This better be about finally knowing how to cure Stolas, Ozz, because I’m getting real sick of this shit.”

“Oh I know you didn’t just speak to the king of lust like that,” Ozzie shot back. “Let’s try that greeting again, Blitzø.” Blitzø sneered, gripping the phone tighter in his hand. He really wasn’t in the mood to be reminded of the inherent, fucked-up hierarchy he was involuntarily apart of. He knew Ozzie didn’t deserve it, but that didn’t make Blitzø feel any less pissed off. He pinched the bridge of his nose

“Whatever, sorry, I just - why'd you call, Ozzie?”

“Hm.” Ozzie said, as if he was considering whether this second try was acceptable. “Fine, I’ll tell you,” he decided. “I know what’s wrong with our dear Stolas. I was going to call him, but then I realized that I only have your contact, so I figured you could pass along the message.”

“Don’t leave me in suspense,” Blitzø said. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Striker shot Stolas with a ‘Love-Me-Not’ bullet,” Ozzie said. Blitzø raised a brow.

“The fuck is that?” 

“Apparently it’s a new design from those vulgar Vees in the Pride ring,” Ozzie went on to explain. Blitzø could tell by his tone that he had a disgusted look on his face. “It causes the target to experience a painful burning sensation that slowly gets more intense over time.”

“Sounds familiar,” Blitzø said with a nod. “But why’s it called ‘Love-Me-Not’? Seems like a stupid name for something like that.”

“Because the only way to effectively counteract it is physical affection from a loved one,” Ozzie said. “Ideally, from someone they have romantic feelings for, and who has romantic feelings for them in return. It’s a double-edged sword, essentially, or bullet, I guess.”

“How so?” Blitzø asked, not following.

“It produces extreme pain, and is meant to send a message - specifically, that the person experiencing the pain has no one who loves them, otherwise they'd be fine. Since real love isn’t exactly common in Hell, it’s a pretty effective way of getting revenge on someone you hate.” Ozzie paused. “Those overlords really like fucking with relationships down here in a way that annoys the shit out of me - if I find out they used something of mine in order to make them, you know I’ll be burning their stupid tower to the ground. I have been itching for a reason, those creepy fucks -”

“Slow down, Ozz,” Blitzø said. “What do we do about Stolas?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” 

“But it’s not helping,” Blitzø said, shaking his head. He was beginning to feel impatient. “He’s just getting worse.”

'Because Stolas doesn't love me,' Blitzø realized. That's why he was getting worse. That's why any relief Blitzø had offered was only temporary. If Stolas did love him, if Blitzø was someone worth loving, then he'd already be cured by now. He wouldn't be feeling these waves of pain anymore. Blitzø squeezed his eyes shut, feeling like he'd just been stabbed in the chest once again, knife twisting.

“Really?” Ozzie asked, sounding surprised. “I assumed - I mean, it’s clear that Stolas has romantic feelings for you, and the way you reacted when you found out that he got hurt, and how you volunteered to take care of him, I figured -”

“You thought wrong,” Blitzø shot back, his own pain quickly shifting into a volatile irritation. He found himself stopping in front of the exit to the garden, where he’d entered through just minutes before. He could barely make out the crushed, red peony in the distance. 

“Oh,” Ozzie said, offering nothing else. Anxiety churned in Blitzø’s gut. Every bad thought he'd ever had about himself began to bubble up to the surface, as if all of his insecurities had been lurking, waiting for the perfect moment for a collective strike. He felt himself sliding into the defensive, feeling cornered all of a sudden. He let out a bitter laugh.

“Whatever you were picking up on was probably lust, not love, Asmodeus," he said, feeling those insecurities grip his throat, crawl under his skin. It only made him angrier. "I can’t help Stolas with this, because he doesn’t love me and I sure as Satan don’t love some horny demon prince. We’re exes, if you can even call us that, since whatever we had before sure as fuck wasn’t a relationship, but a sexy, fucked-up transaction. I’m only here now because I feel bad for the guy. I mean, this crazy cowboy freak who’s convinced himself he’s some noble vigilante keeps going after him, and it’s partially my fault for letting Striker get away the first time, I guess. It - it’s not like I enjoy being in this creepy, empty palace -” he let out a scoff - “this isn’t any place for an imp like me, that’s for sure. So I can make sure that Striker doesn’t shoot him again, or his bitch ex-wife doesn’t pull any new shit, but that’s about it. I’m an assassin. ‘Love’ and ‘romance’ ain’t my thing -”

“Oh Blitzø -” Ozzie began, pity in his tone that only pissed Blitzø off further. 

“Fizz said it himself, didn’t he?” he interrupted, finding it hard to stop. “Only little bitches strum the strings of their hearts. Well I’m not some love-sick bitch and I never will be. Relationships have always been too boring for me to give a rat’s ass about. So Stolas needs to find someone else to romantically fuck the curse out of him, or whatever -” Then he heard a noise behind him and quickly turned to see Stolas standing at the garden entrance, looking at Blitzø with wide eyes. Fizz was peeking out from Stolas’ side, looking shocked as well.

“Blitzø, is everything okay over there? Did something happen?” Ozzie asked over the phone. “I think that you might -” Blitzø didn’t let him finish, hanging up the phone and slowly putting it in his pocket, not breaking eye contact with Stolas. His phone started ringing again and he put it on silent.

“Was that -?” Stolas began. He cleared his throat, clasping his hands together. Blitzø noticed that they were shaking. “Was that Asmodeus?”

“Blitzø, what the fuck -?” Fizz began to ask, looking dumbfounded.

“Yeah, it was,” Blitzø said before Fizz could finish. “How - uh, how much of that did you hear?” Fizz scoffed, sounding disgusted, and that told Blitzø all he really needed to know. Too much. A part of him wanted to apologize, to take it all back, especially seeing Stolas’ expression now, but he was still on the defensive, and once he got in that mode it was hard to get out of it. “I heard you two,” Blitzø said, lifting up his chin. “I came back with food, hiding in the tree, and I heard you two talking. I heard you say we’re not on equal footing and the rest of that bullshit.”

“You heard all of that?” Stolas asked, his face redder than it was before. Good. Stolas should feel embarrassed. Blitzø bared his teeth in a smile. Why should Blitzø feel bad about the things he just said when Stolas saw him as some lowly imp, anyway? It’s not like Blitzø’s feelings ever really mattered. It’s not like Stolas would ever value Blitzø as much as he valued himself. 

“I thought you could actually fucking change, you know. You really fooled me, your highness,” Blitzø said. “But now I know how you’ve felt all along.”

“I’m sorry, Blitzø. I - I thought it could be different this time. I thought that I could do better -” Stolas tried to explain. Blitzø saw the shine of tears in his eyes. He clenched his fists. Why did Stolas look so upset? It was Blitzø’s heart that was broken. Stolas had all this power over him, again, and he felt like such an idiot for letting it happen. He couldn't believe he'd been rejected before he was even given a chance to confess. Maybe it was better this way, saving him the effort and embarrassment, but then why did it hurt so damn much?

“I don’t need your lame-ass apology,” Blitzø spat out, putting more bite into his words than he intended to. It wasn’t like this was even Stolas’ fault, but his own for convincing himself that someone like Stolas could have real feelings for him.

“Blitzø, what -?” Fizz began again.

“We made a deal, Blitzø,” Stolas interrupted, saying his name so gently that Blitzo’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. 

“What’re you -?”

“You promised me that you wouldn’t stay by my side out of obligation,” Stolas said, bottom lip trembling. 

“Yeah, sure, but what does that have to do with -?”

“You just said so yourself. You are only here because you feel bad for me,” Stolas said simply, gesturing a hand towards him. His tone was controlled, as if he was trying to put up a strong front, but tears finally welled up in his eyes, spilling over. Blitzø took a step towards him, wanting to wipe his tears away, to take it all back and explain how he really felt, that he was lashing out because he hates feeling vulnerable like this, but his own stubbornness and self-hatred restrained him. Blitzø deserved this - he deserved to feel stupid and helpless and alone. This will teach him not to hope again. “It was charitable of you, to be so kind to me these past few days, while I made the mistake - I fooled myself into thinking -” Stolas took a shuddering breath. “I need you to leave.”

“What?” Blitzø breathed, lips parting in surprise. Then he shook his head, feeling angry again. “So we’re gonna do this again, huh? You’re gonna dismiss me when you're finally faced with the fucking truth?” He took another step towards Stolas, a more aggressive one this time, and Stolas took a step back, hugging his arms to his chest. Fizz was still behind him, holding onto Stolas’ shirt and looking between the two of them, still dumbfounded. 

“I am not dismissing you,” Stolas choked out. “I am setting you free. For good, this time.”

“Fuck that -” 

“You made me food today, and brought me flowers, and made me tea,” Stolas interrupted. “You even helped me take a fucking bath,” he added with a strained, watery laugh. “All because I cannot seem to get my shit together. The past few days I have forced you to attend to my every need as if you’re my butler - you’re right, Blitzø. I haven’t changed. And my feelings for you, they - I never - I just -”

“Don’t,” Blitzø said, holding up his hand. He was scared that Stolas’ explanation - such a direct rejection - would be the final nail in the coffin. He watched the way Stolas’ bottom lip trembled again, wet streaks on his cheeks, shining in the sunlight. 

“I am trying so hard not to run away right now, like I always do,” Stolas confessed. “But you’re going back on our agreement, and - and knowing how you really feel about me, how you feel about being here, I -” Stolas clutched his shirt, right where his heart was, right where he’d been shot. “This feeling - it - it hurts. It hurts more than anything I’ve experienced the past few days.” Blitzø heard the crack in Stolas’ voice as he said that last part. Blitzø shook his head.

“Hold on. You feel bad because this shit is one-sided?” Blitzø asked, gesturing between the two of them. “And now you can’t even stand having me around?” He was struggling to grasp what was happening, too occupied by his own anger and embarrassment, too focused on quickly throwing his walls back up, back to where they should've stayed.

“It's you who clearly does not want to stay!” Stolas argued, sounding angry now, which only made Blitzø feel even more defensive. “So I will figure something out on my own. For once I will stop being so fucking helpless and unfairly burden the people around me. The pain hasn’t been too bad today, anyway. I believe I am getting better -”

“Bullshit,” Blitzø growled, pointing at him. “Now you’re just gonna lie to my face like I’m some fucking idiot?” He scoffed, looking Stolas over as he considered the past few days, his thoughts and feelings a tangled mess. “Have you just been lying to me this whole time?” Every fond glance, every laugh, every kiss - had that all just been a stupid lie? If it wasn’t, how could Stolas kick him out so easily? He clenched his fists. “Whatever, it’s not like I give a damn, anyway. I guess I’m the asshole for believing we could actually be anything more than strangers.” Stolas opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Blitzø waited a long moment, uncertain and angry, feeling cut open in a way that made him want to scream and wreck something. He could feel the promise of tears as his frustration peaked. “Why'd you kiss me back?” Blitzø asked impulsively, before he changed his mind. A masochistic part of him needed to know. Stolas blinked at him, obviously caught off guard by the question. 

“I - because I -” Stolas began, hunching his shoulders as if he was collapsing in on himself. He shook his head, looking at the ground. “Why are you making me answer this? You heard for yourself how I feel. You know why.” Blitzø watched as he bit his lip, clasping his hands together. “I am sorry, Blitzø. I wasn’t thinking - I only wanted -”

“You wanted to be messy, right?” Blitzø said more than asked, a spiteful fire in his eyes. He scoffed. “Glad you finally got what you wanted, Stols. No need to portal me out of here like you did last time. I can let myself out.” With that he walked past Stolas, stubbornly ignoring Fizz’s gaze, which followed him as he left.

Once he was out of the garden, walking through the halls that had grown familiar the past few days as he headed for the front door, he finally let the tears fall, angrily wiping them away with the back of his wrists. 

“Dammit,” he said, eyes blurry and throat burning. He shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching his jaw as he finally reached the front door, kicking it open to see the cage in the way, right where they’d left it. He rolled his eyes, hesitating for a moment, and then he grabbed the rope attached to the top of the cage. Rope in his teeth, he climbed the facade of the palace, reaching the hook he’d installed and tying a complicated knot around it like he did last time. Once the cage was back to swinging in the air, he fixed the trip wire in front of the door. He put his hands on his hips, surveying his work, and then he turned, going down the stairs and feeling sorry for himself again. Before he reached the bottom step a portal appeared in front of him and he watched as Asmodeus stepped through, looking pissed. 

“YOU SILENCED MY FUCKING CALLS?” he roared, reminding Blitzø that he really was one of the seven sins. 

“I was busy,” Blitzø shot back, glaring at him. One of the seven sins or not, Blitzø was too pissed off to fake niceties right now. Ozzie scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Busy isn’t an excuse,” Ozzie said, almost pouting. “I wasn’t finished talking.”

“Oh I do apologize for not receiving your full decree, your sinfulness,” Blitzø said, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he gave Ozzie a deep bow. Ozzie glared back at him, magic energy crackling in the air. Not even a second later Fizz was rushing through the front door, barely avoiding the trip wire and stopping in front of Blitzø.

“You managed not to fall for the same trap twice, Fizz. Nice job,” Blitzø said dryly, although his heart wasn’t really in it. Fizz looked just as pissed as Ozzie did. 

“What the ever-loving shit was that, Blitzø?” Fizz asked, putting his hands on his hips. “Seriously, did you fall on your head on your way to make tea and get fucking stupid?” 

“Oh fuck off,” Blitzø said, flipping him off and turning to face Ozzie, but Fizz extended his arms and turned him back around to face him.

“No, asshole. I refuse to have some new ridiculous misunderstanding with you,” Fizz said stubbornly. “We’ve been down that road before, Blitzø, and look where that got us. What happened?”

“You saw it for yourself, Fizz,” Blitzø said with a shrug, looking away as he crossed his arms. “I don’t know why you need me to spell it out for you -”

“What I saw was you ripping someone apart just because they fell in love with you,” Fizz said. “I know you have a shit-ton of complicated exes, but fuck, Blitzø, do you treat them all like that?”

“What?” Blitzø asked, shaking his head.“You’ve got it all wrong, Fizz. I heard you two talking. Stolas said it was one-sided -” Fizz’s eyes widened in surprise, seeming to put something together. Blitzø noticed him glance somewhere past him, probably meeting Ozzie’s gaze.

“You fucking idiot,” Fizz said, looking back at him. He shook his head disbelief, looking up at the sky as he put a hand on his forehead. “I think you actually need to get your mush of a brain checked out, if you even have one -”

“Spit it out, Fizz,” Blitzø growled. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about -”

“For some clearly stupid reason, Stolas has feelings for you,” Fizz said, dropping his hand from his face and meeting his gaze. Blitzø’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“But he said -”

“Whatever you heard you misunderstood, dumbass,” Fizz said. “Because that prince is in love with you, and you probably just shattered his heart into a million pieces. Like, Satan’s asshole, Blitzø. I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“I - I don’t -” Blitzø said, shaking his head. “This isn’t the time to be fucking with me, Fizz -” Fizz rolled his eyes. 

“You’re right, that’s why I’m not fucking with you. I’m being serious, Blitzø, and I’m rarely fucking serious.” Blitzø put a hand on his forehead, looking around and finding it difficult to focus on one thing as his breathing became erratic. 

“He can’t - I heard him say -”

“Whoa,” Fizz said, and Blitzø felt his hands rest on his shoulders again. “Let’s not freak out, okay? Deep breaths.” Blitzø thought through all the fucked up things he just said, now with the knowledge that Stolas actually had feelings for him. How’d he manage to fuck everything up, again? And when he’d been so close to getting it right this time? Blitzø crouched down to the ground, palms pressed against his forehead as he failed to take those deep breaths Fizz recommended. Fizz followed him down, hands still on his shoulders. “Shit, maybe I should’ve eased you into this, huh?” he asked, but Blitzø couldn’t respond, eyes wide and lost.

Stolas had feelings for him, was in love with him, and Blitzø - he thought that he might love Stolas back, despite ‘love’ being a word that scared the shit out of him. Because ‘love’ and ‘loss’ were two concepts that were two closely entangled in Blitzø’s life. He didn’t believe that the first could exist without the second, not for him. And he was right, wasn’t he? He loved Stolas, and he just lost him, because Blitzø was an insecure idiot who was an expert in hurting people. 

“This probably isn’t the best time,” Ozzie said, “but I was going to tell you that Stolas’ curse - it’s meant to kill the person who has it, not just harm them.” Blitzø dropped his hands from his face. He turned to face Ozzie, still crouched down, Fizz’s hands still on his shoulders.

"What did you just say?" Blitzo asked. Ozzie shifted uncomfortably.

“If he isn’t cured, then that heat that’s been spreading inside of him will eventually grow exponentially, consuming him until there’s nothing left. Immortal or not, Stolas will die.”

“How much time do we have?” Blitzø asked, throat raw. He pressed his hands into the ornate stairs to stop them from shaking. Ozzie frowned.

“You should’ve answered my calls -” 

“Fuck, Ozzie, please, how much time -?”

“It’s shocking that he’s still standing,” Ozzie said honestly, a grave expression on his face. “I believe my blood slowed down the effects, at least initially. And you’ve been helping him, Blitzø, more than you knew. If it wasn’t for you Stolas would already be a goner -”

“But why haven’t I cured him, then?” Blitzø asked, hearing the desperation, the vulnerability, in his own voice. But he didn't care. “If he really loves me, and I - and I love him,” he pushed on, ignoring the way Fizz looked at him in surprise, “then why isn’t he better now? Why has it only gotten worse?” Ozzie sighed.

“I don’t know for sure, but I suspect that Stolas refused to believe that you returned his feelings. The mind is a powerful thing, and can influence the way a body can heal.” Blitzø noticed Ozzie glance at the large, open doorway leading into the palace. “We should find him and resolve this right now. Who knows how much longer he can last, and it seems like you two just had a conversation that may have made things much worse -” Blitzø moved to stand, and Fizz let go of his shoulders, slipping a hand in Blitzø’s and giving it a squeeze. Blitzø looked at him, feeling lost and scared, as much as he tried to push those feelings down. 

“I wasn’t actually going to leave,” Blitzø said, sounding like a pathetic child. “I would’ve come back once I cooled off -”

“You two can fix this,” Fizz assured him. Then he sighed. “I wish you heard the rest of what Stolas had to say. You took off too early, you nosy bitch.” Blitzø didn’t have it in him to scoff. He considered running back to the garden, but decided that a portal would be faster. He let go of Fizz's hand, rubbing his crystal and stepping through the portal, those floral, earthy smells hitting his nose again. He quickly looked around, worry and urgency fueling him now. Then he caught a glimpse of Stolas stepping through a portal of his own, expression twisted, clearly upset as he hugged himself.

“Stolas! Wait!” Blitzø called after him, running towards the portal and reaching for him, but just as he reached it the portal closed and Blitzø was grasping air. He looked down at his hands in disbelief. 

“Fuck. We need to find him quickly,” Ozzie said, both him and Fizz having stepped through the portal to follow him. Fizz looked worried, holding his arms to his chest nervously.

“Can you call him?” he asked. Blitzø nodded, pulling out his phone and dialing his new number. He heard the muffled sound of ringing, and looked over to see the phone he’d given Stolas. He saw his contact name - ‘Blitzø’ with a heart emoji next to it. The photo that appeared on the screen was the one of him and the horse. The phone was laying in the dirt, next to the crushed peony Blitzø had thrown. Blitzø looked at it with wide eyes, still reeling from everything he’d just said to Stolas, and the enormity of what Fizz had just explained to him. But mostly, he was desperate to find Stolas before something bad happened to him, terrified that loss was on its way, and once again it’d be his fault. 

Chapter Text

Stolas had seen a black hole for himself, once. It was one of the stories he was going to tell Blitzø when they were on that asteroid together, if he hadn’t fallen asleep first. But it was probably better that he never got around to it.

He remembered a black void, surrounded by a glowing, orange halo of light. As he floated - portal at his back and grimoire in hand, keeping a healthy distance - he watched as it fed on all nearby pieces of matter, devouring, pulling everything within its grasp into itself to join the infinitely dense nothingness. Actually, contrary to its appearance, it wasn’t nothingness. It would be more accurate to say that it was an overwhelming fullness.

As far away as Stolas was, he could feel that tug himself as he watched, fascinated and borderline entranced. What if he stopped resisting that tug? What would it feel like? To lose one’s sense of self, becoming part of a massive, unstoppable, unfeeling force? Stolas had felt a deep sense of purposeless back then, and the idea didn’t scare him as much as it probably should have. It was a possibility that followed him home, clinging to him in his darker moments, after long stretches of loneliness, or harsh remarks from his new wife. It whispered sickly sweet nothings in his ear, frequent enough to be an ever-present reminder. But then Octavia entered into his life, a precious miracle, and he collected the remaining scraps of his resolve and shoved that temptation away. He had gained a new purpose, one that had added a much needed gravity to his life.

Stolas looked down at the glass in his hands now, eyes blurry and unfocused as he lifted it to his lips, tipping his head back and downing the rest of its honey-colored contents. 

“Another, please,” Stolas requested, getting the bartender’s attention - a tall, broad-shouldered imp covered in tattoos. He’d found an empty booth in the corner of the bar, dimly lit and inconspicuous. He’d changed clothes as well, wearing something not too dissimilar from what he wore at Verosika’s party, a realization that only came after this third drink. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, along with a pain in his chest, both feelings he tried to dull with more of the strongest alcohol available. He watched as the bartender came over with two glasses of that honey-colored liquid, setting them down on the sticky table. 

“Figured I’d stay one step ahead of you and bring your next one, too,” the bartender explained, seeming to notice the way Stolas slowly blinked at him in confusion. 

“Thank you,” Stolas said, trying his best to focus his gaze and imbue his words with as much sincerity as his blunted tongue and cotton-filled head could manage. The bartender shifted uncomfortably, as if he was regretting supplying Stolas with more alcohol, but then a hellhound was waving him over at the other end of the bar, so he shrugged and left Stolas alone. 

Stolas picked up one of the new glasses, drinking it in one gulp and setting the now empty glass next to the others. He wrapped his hand around the second one, pulling it across the table towards him. He closed his eyes, focusing on the welcome burn at the back of his throat, wanting it to linger but knowing the feeling would go away eventually if he didn’t keep drinking. Because Stolas lived in a place of endless punishment, not endless savoring.

In the living world the concept of an ‘ending’ was tightly woven into their very existence, a circumstance that Stolas envied immensely. It was inevitable that things ended there, and because of that inevitability the actions that people took - the goodness they put into the world, the evil - it mattered, because they only had so much of either to offer. And the way they struggled to fight against their ultimate endings - starting families, passing down stories, sharing memories, creating new inventions, savoring life - it was dazzling. What was any meaningful story without an ending? It was as important - if not more so - as the beginning. 

His favorite stories from the living world used to be the love stories, as corny and pathetic as that was. There was something so captivating about two people fighting against whatever odds were against them in order to be together and have their happy ending. An ending, but because they had each other, it promised a hopeful beginning that would exist beyond the pages. Stolas now knew that those stories only existed in the living world for a reason. Happily ever after? Unrealistic already, but impossible in Hell. And after reading so many fairy tale love stories in particular, Stolas had begun to wonder what many of the princes ever did to deserve their happy endings, anyway. 

‘What are we, angels? You don’t always need to deserve a good thing,' Asmodeus’ words swam to the front of his mind. Maybe he was right, but didn’t the very existence of Hell prove that some people deserved bad things? Maybe people could have good things happen to them, deserved or not, but punishment would always be waiting for those who didn’t deserve them. The scales would inevitably be brought back into equilibrium.

Blitzø had said that Stolas didn’t owe him anything, but Stolas believed that he owed Blitzø this - to finally accept the punishment he had earned through his own selfish actions. To tip the scales back to where they belonged.

‘Once you’re all alone, maybe you’ll finally get what you deserve.’ That’s what Stella had said over the phone. He hated to admit it, but she was right. It was time to stop letting other people try to fix his own problems, hurting themselves in the process as he avoided everything that was coming to him. He downed the second glass, feeling the burn slither down his throat, resting somewhere deep in his chest, where that familiar heat was already spreading, although the alcohol had managed to numb some of it out. His empty stomach didn’t help either, or it did help, depending on perspective, making it a lot easier to slip into drunkenness. 

It probably would’ve been smarter to grab the pills in his bathroom and take his medication - they would’ve done a better job of extinguishing the dark thoughts swirling in his head rather than feed them further - but standing there alone in the garden, processing everything he’d heard Blitzø tell Asmodeus, and then tell Stolas himself, his resolve had finally shattered, the primal need to run away overpowering him. Anxiety twisting knots in his stomach, eyes refilling with tears, he had found himself creating a portal, slipping through it to end up outside a bar in the Lust ring before he could consider the wisdom of what he was doing.

Stolas pressed his hands against his forehead, resting his elbows on the creaky wooden table, head heavy as his thoughts became more jumbled and dark, each one baring its teeth for him. If it wasn’t for the stickiness he could feel on his elbows, he would’ve thought he was floating off somewhere, or maybe falling downwards through the floor.

‘Dénouement’ was a French word Stolas read about when he was an owlet. It was an important part of the narrative flow of a story - the part after the climax, signifying a gentle fall towards the ending. Literally, ‘dénouement’ meant ‘untie the knot’. All conflicts were settled. All plot lines had been resolved. Lingering questions were answered. Sitting in this bar now, knowing with such certainty that Blitzø hated his guts, that Via no longer wanted to live with him, that his existence was more of a burden than a boon to others, especially to those he cared about most - well, any questions he still had were finally answered. This was his dénouement. He was untethered, falling towards the end.

“Stolas? No fucking way,” a voice said, and Stolas lifted his head, startled as he watched Verosika slip into the cushioned seat across from him, bottle in hand. 

“Verosika?” Stolas asked dumbly, mouth open in surprise. He watched her take a swig from her bottle. Then she flashed him a smile, charming as always. 

“That’s right, baby. What brings you to one of my favorite bars?” she asked, setting the bottle down. She placed her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her interlaced fingers as she batted her eyelashes at him expectantly, waiting for his answer. 

“Oh, I - well -” Stolas began, straightening his posture as he tried to come up with some reasonable excuse that wasn’t: ‘I fell deeper in love with Blitzø and got my heart broken again so now I’m wallowing in self-pity until I black out.’ 

“Don’t tell me that that dick broke your heart again, and because of him you’re having an alcohol-fueled pity party,” Verosika said, her gaze eerily perceptive. Stolas’ eyes widened in shock.

“How did you know?” he asked, too caught off guard to even try and deny the truth. Verosika sighed, leaning back in the dark leather seat. She was wearing thigh-high, white platform boots, a black mini skirt, and a white crop top with ‘X’s all over it. Her hair was put up in two, high ponytails. She looked stunning, but that was no surprise. 

“Because we’re not all that different, Stolas,” she said sadly. Then her expression brightened. “But I know exactly how to cheer you up.” Stolas tapped nervous fingers against one of his empty glasses, the room spinning slightly. He was feeling slightly nauseous.

“I don’t know if I’m exactly in the mood to be cheery -” he began, trying to come up with an excuse.

“Come on,” she said, getting up and moving to sit next to him. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, giving him a friendly squeeze. She smelled nice, like vanilla and some kind of spice. “I’m not letting you drink alone. I know from experience how shitty it can be.” She paused. “You’re looking to get out of your head a little, yeah?”

“Yes,” Stolas confessed, sounding a little more desperate than he intended. Verosika rested the side of her head against Stolas’, letting out a thoughtful hum.

“I know the perfect place to do just that,” she said gently. “So you should come with me and have a good time. What do you say?” Stolas considered her offer. She had a point - he expected that drinking alone like this all night would only make him feel worse, his thoughts lingering back to that black hole. Maybe it would be better to take his mind off of things with her. She had always been so kind and welcoming to him in the past. And he suspected that if anyone understood how he was feeling right now, she would understand better than most. 

“Okay. Yes, that sounds lovely,” he finally said with a nod. Verosika moved to look at him, an excited gleam in her eyes. She reached over to grab her bottle, finished it swiftly, and dropped a large wad of cash on the table. She took Stolas’ hands in hers, lifting him to his feet.

“Fuck yeah. We’re gonna have so much fun,” she promised. Stolas found himself smiling back, albeit with a moderate dose of nervousness. He wasn’t used to such spontaneity. And he was taken aback by how easily Verosika had managed to pull him from the black hole he’d be careening towards. It was enough to give him whiplash.

“Where are we going?” he asked, a little dazed, and definitely drunk. Verosika pulled him towards the exit, waving at the bartender as they passed him, who smiled and nodded back at her. She looked over her shoulder at Stolas as they entered the street. Her limo was parked out front. 

“Ever been to a Queen Bee party?” she asked. “Because you’re my plus one, baby.” She gave him a wink, and Stolas’ eyes widened, wondering what exactly he’d just gotten himself into. 

Stolas had not, in fact, been to a Queen Bee party before, although he’d definitely heard quite an array of unbelievable things about them. As he looked around, mouth hanging open in disbelief, he realized that everything he’d heard really didn’t do it justice. He craned his neck to look up at the giant, glowing disco ball at the top of the domed, honeycombed ceiling. Each floor of the mansion was lined with columns that reminded him of lava lamps. What appeared to be solid gold couches were scattered around each room, filled with a wide variety of demons chatting and enjoying themselves. 

Stolas placed a hand on his chest, feeling the thumping beat of the music, the loud and energetic notes vibrating through his hollow bones. Strobe lights flashed and twirled across the space, throwing bright colors around in time with the music. Stolas’ eyes scanned the room, watching as some demons danced, some drank, some were snorting various drugs, some were aggressively making out, and some were managing to do all of that at once. He had to admit - he was impressed by their multitasking. 

“Holy fuck,” Stolas finally commented. Verosika looped her arm through his, grinning as she looked around as well.

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” she said with a laugh. “What should we do first?” Stolas blinked at her, entirely overwhelmed, and yet this was definitely better than what he’d been doing before. This was the perfect place to scatter one’s thoughts. “Let’s grab drinks, and then we can dance,” Verosika suggested with a smile, realizing that Stolas was still taking the place in. She patted his arm, leading him further into the space, likely towards wherever they kept the alcohol. 

“I assume you’ve been to one of these before?” Stolas asked, leaning in so she could hear him. 

“Yeah, but only a few,” Verosika explained, stopping them in front of a comically large punch bowl full of neon-pink liquid. Stolas used his magic to lift two cups, filling them both and having them float over to them. He grabbed them out of the air, handing one over to Verosika. She flashed him an appreciative smile. “Vortex, my bodyguard - the one who sang with us at my party?” Stolas nodded, remembering him. “Him and Beelzebub are dating, so he goes to a lot of these. Since I’m his boss I figured I should give him some space and let him have his thing,” she said with a shrug. “But he invited me to perform for this one, and of course I was gonna say yes.” 

“You’re performing? Amazing!” Stolas said, excited. He couldn’t help but laugh, looking around at the pandemonium once again. Then his stomach grumbled. He placed a hand over his stomach, surprised. Then he noticed Verosika raise a curious brow and he gave her a sheepish smile.

“I haven’t eaten today,” Stolas explained. “I guess I’m a bit, well -” he laughed to himself, “peckish -” before Verosika could respond, a pink, blue, and yellow flash whizzed past them. Suddenly Stolas was holding an entire pie in his hand. He looked over, following the trajectory of the colorful blur to see Beelzebub wink at him as she flew away, checking on her other guests. “What an incredible host,” he couldn’t help but observe aloud, startled. The pie was still warm. Was it cherry? Verosika laughed. 

“Eat up, Stolas,” she said, grabbing two spoons. “Can’t party properly on an empty stomach.” He let go of the cup he’d been holding, letting it float next to him, and accepted a spoon gratefully, scooping up a piece of pie and putting it in his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” he said, embarrassed by the moan that escaped him as he tasted sugar and butter on his tongue. He quickly began eating more, holding it out it to Verosika so she could eat it as well. 

“Oh fuck is right,” Verosika agreed. “She really knows how to throw a good party. I should take notes.”

“Yours was quite fun, too,” Stolas told her before putting another heaping piece of pie in his mouth. He considered that as he chewed. “You know, given the circumstances.” Verosika scoffed. 

“Good. I’m glad you decided to go,” she said, bumping his shoulder with her own. He quickly moved to keep the pie balanced in his hand.

“I must admit, although I doubt it will come as much of a surprise - I can be quite the wallflower at parties, so I usually decide not to accept many invitations, but I figured - well, why the fuck not?” he rambled, letting out a nervous laugh. “It wasn’t going to make me feel any worse.”

“And it seems like you had a bit of fun with a sexy stranger, yeah?” Verosika asked, grinning knowingly at him. Stolas rolled his eyes, feeling his face warm.

“I suppose,” he said, feeling shy all of a sudden. “It wasn’t like it was true love or anything -”

“Hey, it doesn’t always have to be,” Verosika pointed out, waving her spoon. “Sometimes it’s just nice to feel wanted.” Stolas nodded. She wasn’t wrong. But he also couldn’t help but think - what bliss it must be to be wanted by the right person. Stolas scraped his spoon along the bottom of the now almost empty pie tin, his stomach finally full although his heart felt much less so. He wished he’d gotten to eat those pancakes Blitzø had made him. He never would’ve guessed in a million years that he’d be eating a cherry pie hand-delivered by the queen of gluttony herself instead. He let out a scoff, shaking his heat in disbelief as the alcohol buzzed around in his brain.

“This has certainly been a roller coaster of a day,” he admitted. Verosika tapped her cup against Stolas’, which was still floating, taking a swig. Stolas set the pie tin down on the nearest table, which was already littered with a graveyard of empty cups. Then he grabbed his own cup and took a long gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling grateful for the burn in his throat - because it was one he had chosen to feel - and the way the alcohol quickly melted his tangled thoughts together.

“Wanna talk about what’s been going on with you?” Verosika asked. “I’m down to do whatever you want to do, Stolas, seriously.” Stolas finished his drink, putting it down next to the pie tin.

“Fuck talking,” Stolas said, laughing as the music and the lights and the people swirled around him. “Let’s go dance.” Verosika scoffed, shooting him a fond look. 

“Let’s do it, then.” She finished her drink as well, setting the cup down next to Stolas’. “But first,” she added, pulling out her phone. “We look too hot not to take a picture.” Stolas let out a nervous laugh.

“You are the hot one -” Stolas corrected, adjusting his hat self-consciously. “I must look terribly awkward and -”

“Oh fuck you, you can’t really believe that,” Verosika cut him off, putting a hand on her hip. “You look super fuckable right now, baby,” she said with a wink. “And the rest of Hell needs to know.” She waved her phone for Stolas to see, and Stolas felt his face heat up in embarrassment. “Besides, we never got the chance to take pictures at my party.” He watched as she began to pout. 

“Why would you care?” Stolas asked, blinking at her in confusion. Verosika let out a laugh, giving him a playful shove. 

“Because I like you, Stolas. You’re cool. Dorky as shit, but cool.” Stolas smiled, shaking his head. 

“How can I say no to so many good points?” he finally relented. Verosika grinned, her platform boots giving her enough height to throw her arm around Stolas’ shoulders, although he still needed to lean down slightly. She held out her phone, facing the screen towards them so they could see their faces. Stolas still felt a little uncertain, but he tried to smile anyway.

“Get ready!” she said. She pressed her lips against his jawline, causing him to blush, and she took a few pictures. One of her ponytails squished against his cheek as they swiped through them together. “See! I knew we’d take some hot-ass pictures.” Stolas found himself smiling. 

“You were right,” he admitted. Although he still believed that it was Verosika who made the pictures good. Verosika removed her arm from his shoulders, smiling up at him. 

“Now we dance.” She grabbed his cape, pulling him towards the dance floor. Once they were in the middle of the crowd she gave Stolas a twirl, laughing. Stolas grinned, spinning her as well, the two of them holding hands as they danced. Stolas couldn’t remember the last time he felt so uninhibited, so carefree. He never would’ve guessed that he and Verosika would get along so well. He would’ve assumed that he’d be too rigid and awkward for her, but he kept being amazed by how warm and open she was, especially with someone like him. She would make for an excellent friend, although Stolas wasn’t so bold as to assume their companionship would continue past this party. She must have countless other friends who were much more interesting.

He thought about all of Stella’s friends, who would shoot him glares as he walked past, heading towards a quiet corner of the room during one of Stella’s parties. They’d whisper about how strange he was, not particularly caring whether he heard them or not. Most likely wanting him to hear.

‘Poor Stella,’ they’d say, ‘being married to such a dull, awkward, scrawny thing, who isn’t even good in bed -’ 

Stolas frowned. The reality was that all of the bad things they had to say about him were never quite as bad as the things he had already been thinking. He would prefer to have their comments drown out his thoughts, rather than face the looming monster in his own mind. And how fucked up was that? That’s why Verosika shouldn’t be putting in this effort, or associate with him in such a public place, or any place -

Verosika’s laugh pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked down to see her smiling up at him, twirling him again and then swaying his arms from side-to-side. 

“You’re doing great, Stolas!” she said, encouraging as ever. He felt a smile tug at his beak. It wasn’t the time to think about the past, or the inevitable future. He should just focus on the present moment. Maybe he was too tied up in beginnings and endings, and had been neglecting the middle, which was always so full of potential. He let the buzz of the alcohol pull him away from his darker, more complicated feelings, and moved to spin both himself and Verosika in a circle, the multi-colored lights blurring around him. Verosika followed his lead, throwing her head back and letting out a whoop of joy. Then she pulled him deeper into the crowd of bodies and began to teach him some dance moves. He stumbled through them as he tried to follow her lead, laughing at himself as he did so. After a good deal of dancing, Verosika put her hands on his shoulders, lifting herself up on her tip-toes.

“You have some admirers!” she yelled into his ear, trying to be heard over the thrum of the music. 

“Me?” Stolas asked, blinking at Verosika in confusion. She bit back her grin, grabbing Stolas’ waist and dipping him with ease. 

“Look for yourself!” she said, and Stolas tilted his head back, keeping a hand on his hat to keep it in place. Even though everything was upside down, and he was currently feeling quite drunk, he managed to notice a few people looking their way. Verosika brought him back up. “It’s practically a fan club! You’re a hot commodity, your highness!” Stolas smiled, rolling his eyes. 

“Even if they were looking at me, and not you, which is much more likely, I’m not looking -” he began to explain. 

“What?” Verosika asked, not hearing him. He leaned down to speak in her ear, losing his balance for a moment but quickly recovering. He put his hands on her shoulders to steady himself, and she put her hands over his own, helping to keep him there. 

“Fuck relationships!” Stolas said simply, hoping Verosika could hear him. He pulled away to see her surprised expression.

“Please tell me that has nothing to do with that asshole,” she said. Then Stolas watched her frown, probably noticing something shift in his expression. Stolas wanted to explain, but wasn’t sure how to sum up the past few days, especially in a place like this. But before he could even try he felt something slide across his lower back. He turned to see an imp looking up at him, cups in both of his hands and a dangerous grin on his lips, tail swaying side to side. The imp lifted one of the cups towards him, and Stolas looked at it for a moment. It could be drugged, of course, but he found himself too drunk to care. He took it, downing it in one gulp. The imp’s grin grew wider, and he put his hand on Stolas’ thigh, slinking closer. Stolas wasn’t too drunk to allow that, however, feeling a wrongness in his gut that made him suddenly nauseous. At Verosika’s party, he’d been flattered that someone had asked him to dance, and he did have fun with him. He was a nice distraction from his broken heart. But now, after the past few days, this only made him miss Blitzø more. He wanted Blitzø. Scariest of all, Stolas needed him. There wasn’t room for anything else - anyone else. But he couldn’t allow himself to feel those things anymore. He thought about the expression on Blitzø’s face as he walked past Stolas, storming out of the garden. 

‘Glad you finally got what you wanted, Stols.'

Stolas suddenly felt a wave of nausea. The room was spinning, but no longer in a funny, carefree way. He became hyper-aware of the bodies pressing against him from all sides. He dropped his cup and hugged himself, quickly moving through that mass of dancing, sweaty demons, desperate for air. This was all wrong. Why did he come here? But then again, where else could he possibly go to escape this feeling? That black hole was drawing closer once more, and he began to feel farther and farther away from everyone dancing and drinking around him. It was like he was a ghost drifting through, untethered to everything except a single, dark feeling - despair that he had no right to feel.

He managed to find gilded, glass doors to an empty balcony upstairs, throwing them open and rushing outside. He immediately took deep breaths, which cleared his head a little, making him feel less incorporeal. He walked over to the railing, gripping it with both hands as he continued to inhale and exhale slowly, trying not to throw up. He could feel the sweat on his brow.

“Hey,” a voice said. A gentle hand was suddenly on his back, and he flinched in response. The hand quickly withdrew. He turned to see Verosika, a look of concern in her eyes. Guilt squeezed his throat. Why did he always ruin things?

“I’m sorry,” Stolas choked out, pressing his back against the railing and putting his head in his hands. “I thought I could just have fun and forget everything. You should be having fun right now -”

“I am having fun,” Verosika insisted. “But I also care about you having fun. I promised to show you a good time, remember?”

“I’m sorry,” Stolas said again, shaking his head. He felt hands on his own, and Verosika gently pulled his hands away from his face, a small smile on her lips as she looked up at him. 

“I’m here for you, Stolas.” she said firmly. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but -” she paused. “This makes me sound like some egotistical bitch, but is it okay if I talk about myself?” Stolas looked at her in surprise, and then nodded.

“Please do.” He watched as she moved to lean against the railing as well, still holding one of his hands. She sighed, looking towards the closed balcony doors, where the party continued to rage.

“It can be tough, to say the least,” she began, expression serious, somber, even, “having sex with people you don’t have feelings for because it’s your job, basically, and then suddenly catching feelings for someone.” Stolas eyes widened. “It feels like - like it was all supposed to work out that way. Like, this is when you finally get what you’ve been wanting. The bullshit you put up with in the past - it doesn’t matter anymore.” She paused, frowning. “But then it doesn’t work out, and you’re left wondering - is it me? No matter what I do, how much I give, how much I want something, am I just not enough?” Verosika let out a bitter laugh. “It’s fucking embarrassing - and so hard to let go.” She glanced over at him. “It can feel like the world's ending, but it’s really not, Stolas.” Stolas’ eyes widened, still drunk and unsteady, but her words managed to get through. He had suspected that Verosika would understand, but he was taken aback by just how similar her feelings were. It was a comfort, knowing that this heartbreak wasn’t so singular, that he wasn’t totally alone.

“I don’t hate him,” Stolas confessed, a burn in his throat as he held back his tears. Verosika smiled sadly, pressing her shoulder against his. 

“That’s okay. If it matters, I don’t hate him either, not really. I still thinks he’s a motherfucker, though.” Stolas let out a surprised, watery laugh. “What’s important is that you love yourself, babe.” Stolas looked away, clasping his hands together as he stared at the pristine golden floor.

“What if I don’t deserve to?” he asked quietly. Verosika scoffed.

“You do.” Stolas’ frowned. 

“How are you so certain -?”

“You do,” she said more firmly this time. “You weren’t the problem, Stolas.” Then she hesitated. “I don’t know if it’s helpful for me to say this, but I saw the way Blitzø watched you dance with someone else at my party. I think you got through to him in a way the rest of us didn’t.” She shrugged. “But that doesn’t mean you need to entertain his emotional constipation. You can do way better.” Stolas shook his head.

“I appreciate your kind words, Verosika, but any difference there was between myself and Blitzø was that I burdened him more than usual, not benefitted. I was a problem. Maybe he would have - if I was someone else, someone better -”

“This is what I’m talking about,” Verosika said, turning to face him and putting a hand on her hip. “Just because you don’t hate him, doesn’t mean you should hate yourself, Stolas.” Stolas wanted to argue. If Verosika knew the whole story, then he doubted she’d be able to make these claims with such certainty. But before he could formulate any sort of rebuttal, he felt a staggering wave of heat. He reached back to grab the railing with one hand, clutching it tightly as he tried to ignore the feeling. He shouldn’t have stopped drinking - he needed to outpace the pain. “You okay -?” Verosika began to ask, sounding worried, but in the same moment Vortex opened the balcony doors, joining them. 

“Hey Boss, you ready to go on stage? Bee’s looking for you.” Stolas felt Verosika’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze, managing a smile and patting her arm with his free hand.

“You should go. I’ll join the crowd in a minute. Can’t miss a Verosika Mayday performance, now can I?” Verosika gave him an unconvinced look, still hesitating.

“I’ll keep an eye on the drunk prince,” a voice said, and Stolas watched in surprise as Loona walked through the open doorway, standing next to Vortex. Her arms were crossed, a bored expression on her face. She was wearing a pretty red dress. 

“I’m not sure if it’s a good idea having Blitzø’s daughter -” Verosika began, skeptical as she looked between the two of them. 

“Calm your tits,” Loona said, checking her claws. “I’m not here to stir up any drama. I hate that shit.” She looked up at Verosika. “I’m a neutral party,” she said seriously. Verosika gave her a long look, but then finally nodded. 

“Fine. Take care of him,” she said, and Loona gave her a half-hearted salute. Verosika lifted herself on the balls of her feet to give Stolas a kiss on the cheek, adjusting his hat.

“I’ll find you after,” she promised. “We can talk more, or we can get black out drunk, or whatever else you wanna do.”

“Thank you,” he said, pouring sincerity into his words. “For letting me be your plus one tonight.” She gave him a wink, and then followed Vortex back to the party. Stolas watched them leave, a sad smile on his lips. Then he took a deep breath. He really needed another drink. The heat wasn’t unbearable, not yet, although there were definitely waves of pain that were getting more frequent. He was hoping that he could just ignore it. It’s not like he could call Blitzø and ask him for help. Especially since he left the phone Blitzø gave him behind. He supposed that he could always ask Loona to call Blitzø, or even call Asmodeus - but no, he could do this. Maybe the pain couldn’t reach him if he simply decided not to feel it. The mind was a powerful thing. He’d read books from the living world about cognition - mind over matter. That’s what this was. That is what this had to be. He had no other options. He needed to learn how to take care of himself.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Loona said, giving Stolas a once over and pulling him away from his thoughts. “Nice outfit.”

“I could say the same,” Stolas said, gesturing to her dress. “You look beautiful as always, my dear.” Loona rolled her eyes, moving to join him by the railing, but Stolas had enough dramatic conversations for one day, so he headed over to her instead.

“Let’s go back to the party,” he suggested, stopping by the balcony doors. “I would hate to miss Verosika’s performance.” Loona shot him a skeptical look, but then she shrugged. Together they left the balcony and joined the crowd. Stolas felt the beat of the music once again vibrating through him.

“You sure you’re okay to be at one of these?” Loona asked, a step behind him. Stolas filled two cups almost to the brim with that mysterious neon cocktail from the punchbowl, handing one over to Loona before downing his own. 

“I can be fun sometimes, believe it or not!” Stolas argued, moving deeper into the crowd. Loona continued to follow after him. He thought he heard her scoff.

“I meant - didn’t you get shot a few days ago? Aren’t you still recovering? Blitzø got super fucked up when he went to one of these parties after your date or whatever -” Stolas stopped, trying to understand what that meant. After Ozzie’s? He shook his head. There was no point in thinking about that. Thankfully, the alcohol was blurring his thoughts together once more, making it hard to grasp one train of thought. He did come to one realization, though, one that was pretty amusing.

“I was shot in the heart today as well!” Stolas offered, laughing at his own observation as he resumed his journey through the crowd, getting closer to the center of the mansion. He assumed that the performance would be somewhere in the middle, where the most people could watch.

“What?” Loona asked. “I can barely hear you over this fucking music!” Stolas eventually stopped near the disco ball, finding a pocket of space that was less crowded and relatively quiet. Loona caught up to him, and Stolas began to feel fidgety and nervous as she gave him another once over, a confused furrow in her brow. “Where’s Blitzø, anyway? Isn’t that asshole supposed to be bodyguarding you? Don’t tell me he’s challenging Beelzebub to another -” she began, looking around the room.

“Blitzø doesn’t know I’m here,” Stolas cut in. Loona raised a brow. “I have decided to…give him a break from bodyguarding.” 

‘A permanent one’, Stolas thought with a frown. Loona frowned as well.

“What about Via? Does she know you’re here?” Stolas felt a pain in his chest, one that cut through the buzz of the alcohol. He hugged himself, no longer meeting Loona’s gaze. 

“She’s with her mother and uncle. She’s happy -” Loona scoffed, and Stolas looked up at her in surprise. She held up her hands. He noticed that she wasn’t holding the cup he gave her. She must’ve put it down on their way over here.

“Hey, who am I to make any assumptions, but ‘happy’ isn’t the word I’d use.” Loona paused, seeming to consider something. “It’s none of my business, but she’s been worried about you. I doubt she’d be happy if she knew you were here with no protection -”

“I’m in the mansion of one of the seven sins,” Stolas pointed out. He let out an incredulous laugh. “What, is Striker going to appear out of the bushes and kidnap me again?” Loona shrugged.

“Who knows? That asshole sounds fucking crazy,” she said, checking her phone. Then she scoffed. “Looks like Blitzø isn’t happy about you being here, at least.” Stolas froze, looking around the room. 

“What makes you say that?” he asked, not seeing Blitzø anywhere and ignoring the feeling of disappointment that produced. Loona moved closer to him, showing Stolas her phone. He looked at the picture of him and Verosika that Verosika had apparently posted on her Sinstagram. It was captioned: No motherfuckers allowed at this party” #QueenBee<3 #myfavoriteprince. Under the post was a comment in all caps from Blitzø’s account: 

WTFFGFFDF????

“I’m shocked Verosika doesn’t have him blocked,” Stolas couldn’t help but observe as he felt his face flush in embarrassment. He could only imagine what Blitzø thought of him now. Loona barked out a laugh. 

“Good point.” She put her phone away, looking at Stolas. “Are you trying to avoid him? How’d he fuck up this time?” Stolas shook his head.

"No - he didn’t - I just -” Stolas didn’t know how to explain. He was beginning to get a headache, and was feeling feverish again, but before he could come up with an adequate answer the music was lowered, and he watched as Beelzebub, with Verosika in her arms, flew down from one of the higher levels of the mansion and landed at the top of the now lowered disco ball.

“Who’s ready to get fucked up tonight?” Verosika asked, the microphone in her hand carrying her voice throughout the mansion. There was an eruption of cheers. 

Blitzø was pacing around Ozzie and Fizz’s guest room, the one he’d found Stolas in less than a week ago. Where the fuck could Stolas be? Where should they look next? They’d decided to portal here, just in case Stolas had left to look for Ozzie, but that stupid prince was nowhere to be found. He could be anywhere, including the living world, and fucking space. Couldn’t he have waited another minute before he disappeared? Then Blitzø would’ve been able to apologize -

Blitzø stopped pacing, putting a hand on his forehead. He needed to focus. It wasn’t like he exactly blamed Stolas for leaving. He could only imagine what he’d been thinking, feeling. Blitzø didn’t understand why Stolas let him talk to him like that. Why did Stolas always just let shitty things happen to him? Why didn’t he put up a fight?

“C’mon, let’s brainstorm more ideas for where he could be,” Fizz suggested, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Ozzie and kicking his feet. “Where does he like to go when he’s upset? Blitzø?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Blitzø said, turning on Fizz. Ozzie glared at him, a warning, and Blitzø looked away, reigning in his anger. He caught the unconvinced expression on Fizz’s face, and let out a frustrated sigh. “He’s a homebody - it’s not like he goes to a lot of places, and the one place we spent most of our time together was his bedroom -” Blitzø pinched the bridge of his nose, pacing again as he tried to think. “I guess he could be on some random-ass comet in the middle of space? But if he is, how the fuck are we supposed to find him?” 

“Alone? He wouldn’t call anyone, or -?” Fizz probed. Blitzø thought about that. Then he frowned.

“Knowing that bird bitch, he’d be too stubborn to do that. He’s probably alone somewhere,” he said, annoyed, but he was self-aware enough to know that his annoyance came from a deep-rooted worry. 

“What about his daughter?” Ozzie offered. 

“Maybe? But she’s with her mom right now, and I think things are tense between them, so I don’t know -” Blitzø began. Then his phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, but decided to answer it anyway, hoping it wasn’t some rando who’d just found Stolas passed out in a ditch somewhere. But then again, at least that would mean he could go get him rather than continue pacing like some dipshit.

“Why is my dad at a Queen Bee party right now? He’s not picking up my calls -” were the first things Via said, clearly pissed, before Blitzø could get in a ‘hello, who is this?’. Blitzø’s eyes grew wide in disbelief, processing the rush of what she just said. 

“WHAT?” he replied, putting her on speaker. Ozzie and Fizz were looking at him in surprise. “How do you know -?”

“I just saw him on fucking Sinstagram -”

“The fuck?” Blitzø said, quickly opening his Sinstagram.

“You don’t know where he is?” she asked, an accusation in her tone. “Look at Verosika Mayday’s post.” Blitzø quickly pulled up her account, clicking on the most recent post. He was surprised she hadn’t blocked him. “How do you not know where my dad is? Aren’t you supposed to be protecting him -?” Blitzø’s eyes widened as he looked at a picture of Verosika and Stolas clearly all buddy-buddy at a party. That cock-sucking, talentless whore was kissing Stolas’ cheek, and Stolas was blushing. And here he’d been losing his fucking mind over where Stolas was, wondering if he was passed out in a ditch somewhere, or worse - Then his eyes fell on the caption. 

“Those bitches!” Blitzø said, furiously typing out a comment. Blitzø couldn’t believe he actually considered sending that washed-up, bubblegum hag a gift basket. 

“Under different, less life-or-death circumstances, this is pretty fucking funny,” Fizz said in his ear, having slinked over to get a peek at Blitzø’s phone, currently looking over his shoulder. “I never would’ve put money on Verosika Mayday and Stolas of the Ars Goetia getting lit at a party together, but hey, I guess they have crossed paths before. You really know how to bring people together, Blitzø.” Blitzø shot him a glare. Then he realized that Via was still on the phone. He let out an exhale, reining in this horrible cocktail of anger, worry, and regret. At least Stolas was okay, and now he knew where to find him and fix this whole mess. “I’ll go get him, sweetie -”

“Why isn’t he picking up my calls?” Via asked again. “Why is he ignoring me and getting drunk at some random party -?”

“It’s complicated,” Blitzø said, wincing at his lame attempt at an explanation. “It’s my fault,” he corrected, because that was the bitter truth. Stolas wouldn’t have run off if he hadn’t been such an idiotic, lying, impulsive dickhead. Via scoffed.

“Of course it is,” she said, a note of disgust in her voice. “You hurt him again, didn’t you?” she stated more than asked. Blitzø clenched his jaw, not knowing what to say. She was right. “You two seemed fine when I left,” she decided to continue, since Blitzø hadn't responded. “I thought I could be gone for another day while I found evidence, but I was clearly being too optimistic -”

“Evidence?” Blitzø interrupted. He had no idea what she was talking about. “Aren’t you spending the weekend with your evil mom?” Via let out a sigh.

“Loona gave me the idea,” she said. “When we were hanging out in your office. I was complaining about you living with us, and how I just wanted things to go back to normal, and she pointed out that my dad can’t do much to protect himself in the long-term without evidence that my mum hired a hit man to kill him. But it’s not like my dad can just walk into my uncle’s estate and look through their stuff, but I could, so-”

“Woah woah woah, slow down,” Blitzø said, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “So you having dinner with your mom -?”

“I don’t hate my mum,” Via felt the need to clarify. “But I also want her to stop hurting my dad - I want them to stop hurting each other - so I figured if I could find something to - to blackmail her with, I guess -” she let out an incredulous laugh, as if she couldn’t believe the words she was saying, “then maybe she’d finally let it all go and I wouldn’t have to get the court involved -” Blitzø let out a surprised laugh.

“I’m genuinely impressed, Via. That’s badass of you.”

“Yes, well,” Via said, sounding suddenly flustered. “Whatever. Anyway, since I can’t reach my dad right now, I should mention to you that I did find evidence.”

“Yeah? Tell me more.”

“Dad gave me the idea, unintentionally. Remember how he did one of your employee’s jobs, you know, organizing your company’s shit-ton of paperwork -?” she began, and Blitzø let out a fond scoff. 

“Yeah, that rings a bell,” he said, leaning his weight on one hip.

“I realized - not a lot of demons are type A nerds like my dad. Lots of demons probably leave important documents lying around in their offices. I had a feeling Mum would be one of them. She loves leaving random stuff lying around. It used to be one of the petty arguments they’d have when we all lived together,” she said. Blitzø heard the tinge of sadness as she said that last part. “So I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to sneak into my uncle’s office. The two of them finally left, like, maybe twenty minutes ago, so I slipped in and started looking around.”

“And I’m guessing you found something interesting?” 

“It’s primarily my uncle’s office, who’s his own brand of neat freak, so there wasn’t a bunch of incriminating evidence lying around, exactly, but there was a receipt for this ‘Love-Me-Not’ bullet tucked into a folder on his desk. It had Mum’s name on it. She bought it from someone named ‘Velvette Kake’-”

“That’s the crazy bitch I was talking about! One of the Vees!” Ozzie confirmed, getting up from the bed and walking over to the phone, which was still on speaker. 

“Who’s that?” Via asked, suspicious.

“This is Asmodeus, darling. I was the one who found your father -” he paused, seeing Fizz shoot him a look and probably realizing that it’d be best not to mention anything along the lines of, ‘basically shot dead in a warehouse’. He cleared his throat nervously. “I’m a friend of Stolas’."

“The King of Lust,” she said, a little nervously, clearly aware of his status. Ozzie waved her off, even though she couldn’t see him. 

“I kept the fragments of that bullet Striker used, and it should still have some of Stolas’ DNA on it, so that combined with the receipt may be enough to -” Ozzie began to explain.

“So my dad was shot with this ‘Love-Me-Not’ bullet?” Via asked. Blitzø and Ozzie shared a look.

“Yes,” Blitzø finally said. Via was quiet for a long moment, long enough that Blitzø looked down at his phone screen to check that she hadn’t hung up. “You okay, sweetie?”

“I found some online discussion boards about it, since I had no clue what it was,” Via began, something strained in her tone. “It makes you feel this burning pain, a pain that becomes unbearable if it’s not cured -” Blitzø’s jaw clenched, worry twisting in his gut again. He should really go find Stolas now, but he also knew that Via deserved some kind of explanation. “Why? Why didn’t he tell me -?”

“He didn’t want to worry you,” Blitzø answered quickly. Then he frowned, feeling his frustration spike again. He thought about how he witnessed Stolas get bitten by one of his own plants, and then waved it off like it was nothing. It was only in its nature to bite, and Stolas admired it for that. But why did it seem like Stolas believed it was in his nature to be the one who’s bitten? To bear every burden alone, as if his pain meant less than anyone else’s? It didn’t have to be that way. No, it shouldn’t be that way. Blitzø thought, not for the first time in the past few hours, how Stolas must have felt, standing in that garden alone after Blitzø had said so many fucked up things. He found himself feeling grateful that Verosika had somehow bumped into him and taken him to a party - because he knew for a fact that Stolas wouldn’t have ended up there otherwise - Satan knows where Stolas would’ve been. 

“Not telling the people you care about those kind of things feels worse,” Via confessed, her tone wavering, and Blitzø’s eyes widened slightly. “I wish he’d just talk to me, instead of thinking he needs to keep things from me in order to protect me, or protect our relationship or whatever the fuck he’s thinking - “ Via let out a frustrated sigh. “I should be telling him this, not you, sorry-”

“No, it’s okay,” Blitzø said. “You’re right.” He paused, worrying at his lip as he considered the weight of what Via just said. “You should tell Stolas these things, for sure, but, I guess - I’m glad I got to hear that, too. I think -” Blitzø sighed. “I think I needed to hear that, too.” He avoided the way Ozzie and Fizz glanced over at him. “I’m gonna go get him, okay? He’ll be okay -”

“Will he?” Via asked, worry obvious in her voice. “I read that he can only be cured by someone who loves him, you know, romantically.” Blitzø felt that instinctive defensiveness rise up in him, but he tried his best to push it down. “I’m not enough. I can’t fix this, and whatever you and my dad had - I still don’t understand - I mean, you’ve been attached at the hip for the past few days - is he cured? Since I left? Or was he cured before -?”

“He’s not cured,” Blitzø confessed, guilt twisting like a knife in his gut.

“So you really don’t - I see,” Via said quietly, clearly trying to keep her tone even. 

“I do,” Blitzø managed to say, gripping the phone tighter, resisting every urge to deny deny deny.

“You…do?” Via asked, guarded. “Are we talking about the same thing?” Blitzø couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh.

“I’m pretty sure we are.”

"Oh," Via said, sounding confused. Blitzø put a hand on his forehead.

“It’s complicated right now. I told you before...I messed up. But I’ll more than make up for it, okay? I promise. I need him to be okay.” Blitzø’s voice cracked as he said that last part, revealing his vulnerability. He was going against every instinct he'd been raised to have. He was taught to never show anyone his weak point, because all anyone would do is exploit it. Only a stupid animal would bare its neck for anything to latch its jaw onto.

“I hate myself for not noticing,” Via confessed in a rush, as if she’d finally found someone who understood at least part of what she was feeling. “It’s not like he’s some brilliant actor -” Blitzø let out a scoff, although there was an obvious sadness in it. 

“It’s not your fault,” Blitzø assured her. “You’re right - how can you know what someone needs when they don’t tell you?” He knew he wasn’t really talking about Stolas, but himself. 

“Maybe if I told him how I’ve been feeling...what I was planning to do, before I -” Via began, but the sudden sound of a large crash cut her off. Blitzø eyes blew wide.

“Via? What was that? Are you okay?” 

“I think some people just broke into the house,” Via whispered. Then Blitzø heard the sound of rattling metal - a door knob? “What?” Via breathed, confused. “Why am I locked in here?” It sounded like she was banging on the door now. Before Blitzø could warn her, to tell her to go hide somewhere and keep quiet, he heard a familiar voice that made his blood run cold.

“Because there are big plans going down tonight, and our temporary employer doesn’t want you interfering, little bird,” the familiar voice answered. It was muffled, as if he was on the other side of the door. Shit. 

“Who are you? Let me out,” Via demanded. It sounded like she was trying and failing to get the door open.

“Alessio! I want the whole perimeter of this place covered, got it? Nobody’s gettin' in or out,” the voice barked out orders. Blitzø knew it - that was Crimson’s voice. Why the fuck was he involved? That two-faced prick, doing whatever got him the most amount of money. 

“Via, it’ll be okay,” Blitzø promised, trying to sound reassuring. “Ozzie - Asmodeus - and, uh, Fizzarolli will come get you.” He looked up at the two of them. 

“You using my full name sounds weird as fuck,” Fizz felt the need to point out. Blitzø rolled his eyes.

“Fizzarolli? The robot clown from Loo Loo Land -?”

“Oh he’s talking about the real deal, kid,” Fizz said, reaching out his arm to grab Blitzø’s phone and holding it up to his mouth. “Don’t worry, Ozz and I have been waiting for our chance to beat the shit out of the mafia dickheads who just locked you up.” Ozzie nodded in agreement, crossing his arms. The flames surrounding his head were blazing more intensely, ever since he recognized Crimson’s voice. “So sit tight and try your best to hold onto that receipt. We got this.”

“O-okay,” Via said, although she didn’t seem certain. “What about you, Blitzø?”

“I need to go find your dad,” Blitzø answered. “If he doesn’t already need help, he may need it soon.”

“Loona should be at that party, too,” Via said. Blitzø raised a brow. He didn’t know that. “She invited me to come along, and I thought about it, but parties aren’t really my thing, let alone a Queen Bee party,” she let out a nervous laugh, and Blitzø felt a spark of fondness. She really was so much like Stolas. He remembered how out of place he looked at his own party, when Blitzø had snuck in to get that book, and how shy he seemed at Verosika’s party, before he started drinking a shit-ton of alcohol, at least.

“Got it,” Blitzø said, pulling himself away from his thoughts. “That’s helpful to know, thanks. I’m gonna go, but Ozzie and Fizz are on their way, okay?”

“Okay,” Via said, sounding a little more sure. “I wish you taught me how to use the machetes.” Blitzø let out a laugh.

“Another time. I’ll spend a whole day teaching you about different weapons if you’d like.” Now it was Via’s turn to laugh.

“Dad will love that,” she said dryly. Then she paused. “Take care of him, okay?” She seemed to hesitate, and Blitzø waited for her to continue, although he was getting antsy to leave and find Stolas. “He was the one who insisted that I save your phone number. He made me do it a while ago, telling me to call you if I was in trouble and he couldn’t get to me. I guess...I guess I understand why he did that now.” Blitzø’s lips parted in surprise. A while ago? Stolas had trusted him that much? With taking care of his daughter, no less? He clenched his jaw. There was so much that he needed to tell Stolas. 

“I’ll make sure he's okay,” Blitzø said firmly. “And you’ll see him soon.” Then he hung up, looking at Ozzie and Fizz.

“We’ll get her out of there,” Ozzie assured him. “As Fizz said, I’ve been waiting for the chance to bash that fucker’s head in.” Blitzø gave him an appreciative nod. 

“Blitzø,” Fizz said, walking up to him and putting his hands on both of Blitzø's shoulders. Blitzø felt nervous all of a sudden, finding it hard to meet Fizz’s gaze but doing it anyway. This seemed like it was about to be one of those serious conversations that he absolutely fucking hated. “One of you needs to break this cycle of miscommunication and self-loathing and just be fucking honest.” Blitzø’s instinct was right, and he fought back the instinct to change the subject and get the hell out of there. “You can be the one to do that,” Fizz continued. “The stakes are too high to self-destruct.” He felt Fizz give his shoulders a squeeze. “The next time I see you two, you better be loving the fuck outta each other. You and Stolas have punished yourselves enough, so cut that shit out. Unless, you know, you’re punishing each other in a sexy , consensual way. I personally love a little punishment every once in a while -” Blitzø scoffed, pushing Fizz’s hands off his shoulders.

“He’s right, Blitzø,” Ozzie chimed in. “About punishment in the bedroom -” Blitzø rolled his eyes. “But also about the other stuff. Relationships don’t work because they’re easy and perfect. It all comes down to effort - teamwork.” Blitzø watched Fizz turn to look at Ozzie, giving him a fond smile. Ozzie smiled back at him, expression incredibly soft. Blitzø couldn’t help but feel a stab of jealousy. He wanted what they had. With Stolas, specifically. He’d only ever imagined it with him. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Blitzø finally said, rubbing his crystal and making a portal. They’d been apart for hours now -  Stolas seemed fine in Verosika’s post, but how long would that last? He didn’t want to test it out. “Now go be wise and mature somewhere else, preferably at Stolas’ shitty brother-in-law’s place.” 

“Be careful, Blitzø," Ozzie warned. "I doubt Stolas’ daughter was the only one who saw Verosika’s post. Who knows many demons are aware of Stolas’ location now." Fuck. He had a point. 

“Got it,” Blitzø said, patting the holster at his hip to make sure his gun was still there, tucked under his coat. With that he gave them a salute and stepped through the portal, the front entrance of Beelzebub’s honeycombed mansion looming over him. 

“Is it strange to listen to a song that is most likely about your father?” Stolas found himself asking, putting a hand on one of the gold couches to steady himself as he watched Verosika sing. She was now standing alone at the top of the lowered disco ball. Beelzebub was zipping around, giving her guests more booze, more food, and what looked like a variety of drugs upon request. The copious amounts of alcohol Stolas had consumed over the past few hours was catching up to him, dulling some of his inhibitions that he usually kept under strict control. Thankfully they’d found a place to watch the performance where they weren’t trapped in a mass of bodies. Loona seemed grateful for that as well. She shrugged, arms crossed as she watched Verosika perform.

“I never considered it could be about him,” she answered. “But now that I know I’m definitely not listening to it anymore.” Stolas eyes widened.

“I’m sorry, I - I didn’t mean -” Stolas began to stutter out, but Loona shot him a look.

“I don’t really listen to pop music anyway,” she explained. “So it’s no biggie. Gross that someone hot and famous wrote a song about getting their heart broken by a major dork like him, though.” That surprised Stolas as well. ‘Dork’ was not the first word he’d use to describe Blitzø. Confident, dangerous, sexy - those seemed more obvious, at least in Stolas’ mind. But he supposed it was only natural that his daughter would think differently. He let out a giggle, and Loona raised a brow. 

“You would be absolutely startled to see the hoard of Blitzø’s exes that I met at a party not too long ago,” Stolas said. Loona rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. Then a hellhound came up to them, flashing Loona a grin. 

“Not interested, buddy,” she said, flipping him off, but that only made him seem more interested. “I mean it,” she said, growling at him. “I’m not in the mood tonight, so fuck off.” With that the hellhound left, tail between his legs. Loona blew a lock of hair out of her eyes, turning her attention back to the disco ball.

“Are you sure you do not want to go dance? You shouldn’t have to babysit me -” Stolas began, feeling guilty. 

“It was actually…nice, seeing a familiar face here,” Loona said, still looking at Verosika, although she could probably feel Stolas’ eyes on her. “Tex invited me, and he’s cool, but a lot of the other people here piss me off.” She paused. “I invited Via here - hope you don’t mind - although she turned down the invite anyway.” 

“Oh,” Stolas said. “I don’t mind. I’m happy that you two get along. I can tell that Octavia thinks the world of you -” Loona scoffed, a grin tugging at her lips again. 

“Yeah, she’s pretty great. I’ll find something else for us to do that’s more her speed.” She finally glanced over at Stolas. “Any suggestions?”

“Well, she enjoys music - not pop music, much like you, but various punk artists - and she likes taxidermy, as you know - oh! She likes reading and astronomy, which I may be so bold as to say she got from me -” Stolas began to list off, feeling a swell of affection as he talked about his daughter, one of his favorite subjects. Then his smile fell. “Although, there are probably countless likes and dislikes that I am currently unaware of. We don’t spend time together quite like we used to - which is entirely my fault.” And he wasn’t sure if they’d ever spend much time together again, not after she left to be with her mother. She probably didn’t want to be around him anymore -

“That’s a pretty solid list,” Loona reasoned. Then she furrowed her brow, as if she was debating whether or not to say something. “I dunno, maybe the four of us could go do something together, or whatever. Watching the fireworks that one time was cool I guess.” Stolas’ eyes widened. 

“The four of us?” Stolas asked, and Loona stopped meeting his gaze. “Are you referring to yourself and Octavia, as well as myself and Blitzø -?”

“No, you and Moxxie, dumbass,” Loona said, rolling her eyes. “Yes, you and Blitzø.” A laugh bubbled out of Stolas, and Loona looked at him in surprise. He touched his fingertips to his mouth, covering his smile. 

“You, Octavia, myself, and Moxxie would be quite an amusing group,” he confessed, and Loona looked at him in disbelief, before letting out a laugh herself. 

“You’re pretty fucking weird, you know that?” Loona said, although her smile seemed fond. Her words didn’t have the barbs in them that the comments from Stella's friends had. Stolas smiled back.

“I have been given that feedback from time to time, yes,” he confirmed. “Although it’s usually done behind my back.” Loona frowned, looking around the room. He watched as her gaze landed on a group of particularly groomed hellhounds. 

“I know the feeling,” she said quietly. 

“I thought that I could stomp you out,” Verosika sang, and Stolas turned his attention back up at her. “Like a fire, like a flame.” Stolas hugged his arms to his chest, still feeling a bit unsteady on his feet, his cheeks blazing from the alcohol as he listened. “It's done but now I'm covered in ashes. And I still feel the same -” Stolas heard an unfamiliar ringtone, and looked over to see Loona staring at her phone in surprise. She glanced at Stolas, and then she answered it. 

“What?” she asked, pausing to listen. Stolas suddenly felt a pit in his stomach.

“Yeah I try to look ahead, sometimes I look back instead -” Verosika continued to sing. 

“You’re here?” Loona asked, looking around now as she put a finger in her ear to hear whoever was calling better. “Why? Where -?” She kept looking around. “How the fuck am I supposed to see you? By which punch bowl? There are a shit-ton of them -” Loona let out a frustrated sigh. She glanced at Stolas again, lowering her phone and putting her hand over it. “It’s Blitzø. Apparently he’s here.” Stolas’ eyes widened, and he started looking around as well, anxiety and excitement twisting together painfully in his chest. He wasn’t sure how to feel. Why was Blitzø here, when he knew that Stolas was here, too? Shouldn’t he be avoiding Stolas? It had certainly sounded like he never wanted to see him again. “You stay here, okay? I’m gonna go find him.” Loona rolled her eyes. “He keeps whining about needing to know where you are. Guess he’s done with his break.”

“Oh, right,” Stolas said, feeling uncertain. He couldn’t stop looking around the room, dreading that he’d find Blitzø, but also desperately wanting to see him. He tore his eyes away from the crowd to look at Loona again, who was shooting him a suspicious look. “Yes, you go find him.” She continued to look at him for a long moment. Then she put a hand on the side of his arm.

“Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back,” she instructed, and Stolas nodded again. With that she dropped her hand, putting the phone against her ear once more.

“Stop having an aneurysm. I’m coming to find you right now.” Another pause. “There are also a shit-ton of couches you need to be more specific -” she growled, rejoining the mass of dancing bodies. Soon Stolas could no longer see her. 

“I’m going to end this set with one of my older songs,” Verosika said, putting a hand on her hip as she spoke into the microphone. She found Stolas in the crowd and blew him a kiss. “The horny twenty-somethings in the living world love this one,” she added with a grin. Stolas scoffed, and the crowd cheered. “This is your final boarding call,” she began, adding a husky, sexy quality to her voice as she walked around the disco ball. Stolas wondered how she managed to do that in platform boots without falling off. The cheering grew louder, many demons in the crowd losing their minds. “All aboard,” she added with a smirk. Then she began to sing, swaying her hips. 

Stolas found himself stealing looks at the crowd again, wondering if he’d spot Blitzø before Loona found him. He still didn’t understand why Blitzø was here. Was he only looking to get fucked up, like he did after their date as Ozzie’s, according to Loona? Loona had mentioned that Blitzø was wondering where Stolas was, but maybe he only wanted to know so that he could avoid him. Or maybe Blitzø had more grievances that he wanted to tell Stolas about, ones he didn’t get the chance to mention back in the garden. Stolas adjusted his hat. Then he began to fidget with his hands. He tried to focus on Verosika’s song, like a good plus one would, but his nervousness was making it hard to focus on anything other than Blitzø.

“Is that you, Stolas?” a voice asked, and Stolas quickly turned, his heart dropping and simultaneously soaring. Then his eyes widened in surprise when he saw the incubus he’d danced with at Verosika’s party walk up to him, a friendly grin on his face.

“Oh, wow,” Stolas said, blinking at him. “What brings you here?” he asked. The incubus’ - fuck what was his name? Stolas had been too hammered that night to remember it now, although he certainly remembered the feeling of his tongue down his throat - tilted his head in confusion, and then gestured to the rest of the party.

“Same reason as you, I’m guessing,” he said. “You know, to party?” 

“Right!” Stolas let out a nervous laugh. “Of course, what a silly question -”

“It’s good to see you,” the incubus continued, still grinning as he moved to stand next to Stolas, tilting his chin upwards to watch Verosika as she performed. “I was hoping I’d bump into you again sometime.”

“You wanted to see me again?” Stolas asked, looking down at him in confusion. The incubus met his gaze, giving him a wink and tucking his hair behind his ear. He was wearing a white tank top and leather pants, not too dissimilar from what he was wearing at Verosika’s party. 

“Hell yeah. I had a fun time,” he said. “Didn’t you? Or did you forget all about me?” 

“Oh, I, well -” Stolas began, unsure of what to say. He wove his fingers together nervously. “I had fun as well. But then, you know, life moved on, I suppose -”

“Ah, I get it,” the incubus said, wincing a little. Stolas felt a pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry, I -” he began in a rush, but he was waved off. 

“No need to apologize. As long as you had fun.”

“You were an excellent kisser, for the record, and a great dancer,” Stolas offered, still feeling guilty as he gestured awkwardly. “You made a really shitty day a bit less so,” he finally added, tone more somber, but still sincere. 

“Same here,” the incubus said. He moved to grab Stolas’ hand, clearly in more of a friendly, understanding gesture, but then quickly pulled his hand away in surprise, looking at Stolas in concern. “You’re super hot -” Stolas let out a nervous laugh.

“I appreciate the compliment, but -”

“Oh, I mean, yeah, you are hot, but I meant literally hot. You feeling okay?” Fuck. Stolas was feeling a bit feverish. Then, not for the first time that night, a rush of heat hit him like a sack of bricks, causing him to double over - okay, maybe he was feeling very feverish. He hadn’t realized it’d gotten so bad. He noticed the incubus - he still felt terrible for not knowing his name, especially since he seemed so genuine - look him over in concern. “I can go grab you some water -?” Stolas shook his head, fighting the pain and forcing himself to straighten back up. He gripped the couch for support, feeling his hands shake.

“I will be alright,” Stolas assured him, trying to put on a confident smile, although he wasn’t sure how well he was pulling it off. Then he could’ve sworn he saw a familiar set of horns in the crowd - Blitzø? He didn’t want him to see him like this - weak and helpless without him. What if Blitzø saw him and felt obligated to help, even though he wanted nothing to do with Stolas? But at the same time, could he really afford not to seek Blitzø out right now? He was beginning to feel uncertain as to whether his condition was something he could simply overcome. If he was being honest, he always knew deep down that this wasn't something he'd be able to simply 'get over'. He should’ve reached out to Asmodeus instead of getting drunk at some random bar. Maybe he had more answers at this point. Stolas realized that he never had the opportunity to ask Blitzø what his phone call with Asmodeus was about, beyond his various grievances about having to watch over Stolas. 

He also wondered if he should have checked on Via. She was probably fine, if not better off, without him bothering her, but he also missed her terribly. Maybe he could convince her to come visit him. But right now, as heat licked across his limbs, his fever and the alcohol in his system making it harder to think, pain and confusion reaching a peak, he could only manage one objective - go outside, away from the oppressive heat of the crowd and the bright lights. “I just need a bit of a breather,” Stolas finally explained. He looked over at the disco ball. The song had ended, and Verosika was waving at some of her more…energetic fans. Hopefully he could find her later. “But it was nice seeing you. I hope you enjoy the party,” he said, looking back at him once more. It was getting harder to catch his breath, each inhale getting increasingly more shallow and labored.

“Okay, are you sure -?” the incubus began, but Stolas was already leaving, pushing through the crowd as he began looking for the nearest exit, a feeling of panic crawling up his throat. His legs were beginning to shake. Not again. Then he thought he caught another glimpse of someone who at least looked like Blitzø. It felt like he was floating somewhere far away again, but the vision of Blitzø kept Stolas tethered to the party, in a way that was both a blessing and a curse. 

Why couldn’t he just let go of Blitzø? He wished that he could. He wished that this worry over Blitzø finding him wasn’t so outweighed by his desperation to hold him close. It had hurt knowing that Blitzø didn't feel the same about him, but this feeling - knowing that he would never be able to be in Blitzø’s life in any capacity, without going against Blitzø’s own desires, hurt much more. There simply wasn’t a reality in which they could both be happy, and if he had the choice, he would rather ensure Blitzø’s happiness than his own. Because love was a give as much as it was a take, if not more so.

So instead of following after those familiar set of horns, he turned in the opposite direction, finally finding a side door and opening it. The coolness of the evening hit his face. He stumbled outside, into what looked like a dimly lit side yard lined with trees. As he looked around with blurry eyes, hugging his arms tightly to his chest, he wondered if it would be wise to portal to Asmodeus’ place right now. He would need to apologize to Verosika later, of course, but surely Asmodeus could think of something to help him. He reached within his cape for his grimoire, but then he heard the snap of a twig. He quickly looked up, startled, and managed to make out a figure approaching. It was hard to tell who exactly it was in the darkness, especially given that Stolas was using most of his energy to resist passing out. It could very well be a stranger on their way to rejoin the party, but he couldn’t help but hope that it was Blitzø, as much as he had tried to avoid him. As shitty as these circumstances were, Stolas could use this as a second chance to apologize. He could explain everything properly, and then maybe he could convince Blitzø to keep some space, however small, for Stolas in his life. 

“Look who finally wandered a little too far from his gilded cage,” the shadowy figure said as he drew near, stopping to stand under one of the lights lining the outside of the mansion. Stolas’ heart plummeted in an instant. 

“No,” he breathed, swaying on his feet. Before he could do anything else - call for help, use his magic, portal away - he felt an explosion of pain at the side of his head, and the world went dark.

Chapter Text

“Shit. He was right here,” Loona said, gesturing to the couch that two imps were furiously making out on.

“Hey pricks!” Blitzø said, marching up to the couch and putting his hands on his hips. “Have you seen a tall-ass owl prince over here?” The two imps didn’t seem to notice him, the way they were sucking face somehow audible over the music. Blitzø rolled his eyes. “Christ on a stick,” he said, getting annoyed. He slammed his hands down on the back of the couch, gripping it tightly. “Come up for air and answer my question you horny freaks -” Loona grabbed him by the collar of his coat and started dragging him away. 

“They clearly didn’t see shit,” Loona said before Blitzø could complain. She brought them to a less crowded part of the room, by one of the yellow, lava-filled columns.

“Fuck!” Blitzø said, kicking the column in frustration. “Fuck,” he said again, pain shooting up his leg. He pressed his palms against his eyes. Every second that passed without him seeing Stolas made him more on edge.

“Everything good here?” Blitzø dropped his hands to see Beelzebub standing in front of them. Both sets of hands were on her hips as she gave the column a once-over. She was wearing a pink and blue crop-top and black shorts. 

“Have you seen Stolas?” Blitzø asked. It was worth a shot. She raised a brow. Then she tapped a finger to her chin.

“I’m pretty sure I gave him a cherry pie…” then her eyes lit up. “Verosika brought him, right? So he’s probably with her since she’s done with her set.” Ugh. Blitzø didn’t feel like running into Verosika right now, especially after that stupid-ass Sinstagram post, but if she was with Stolas then it couldn’t be helped. He took some comfort in knowing that Stolas hopefully had something to eat, at least. 

“Okay, thanks,” Blitzø said, and Beelzebub titled her head, looking at him in curiosity.

“Your energy is super sober and sad right now,” she commented, wiggling her fingers at him. “And jumpy as fuck.” Blitzø resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Loona brought a bottle of this crazy-strong moonshine,” she continued, flashing Loona an appreciative smile. Loona looked away, tucking her hair behind her ear. Blitzø felt a flicker of fondness that eased a smidge of his anxiety. His little Loonie-Toonie ended up using the gift he got her from Wrath. “I can go grab you some -”

“I’ll pass,” Blitzø cut her off, holding up a hand. “I’m actually here for a pick-up.” He started looking around the room, trying to see if he could spot his lanky-ass bird. It shouldn’t be this hard. Stolas always stood out, partially because he was, again, a lanky-ass bird, but also…

Also because Stolas always stood out to Blitzø, like his gaze naturally gravitated in his direction. A fact that he couldn’t imagine admitting out loud, because that was simp behavior.

“Oh yeah?” Beelzebub pressed, crossing one set of arms. “Last time you were here for a pick-up we had a little competition. Or did you black out so hard you forgot?”

“Oh I remember showing you how a real demon drinks bitch,” Blitzø said with a grin. Beelzebub’s eyes flashed, grinning as well. Loona groaned.

“Enough with the pissing contest,” she said, and Blitzø watched her roll her eyes. She looked at Beelzebub. “Point is, if you see Stolas, let us know. He’s probably just getting fucked up somewhere around here,” she said, gesturing vaguely. “But my dad needs to talk to him about…actually I don’t even fucking know.” 

“Something important! We’re talking life or death here,” Blitzø said seriously, and Loona raised a brow at him. Beelzebub shrugged.

“Sure thing, cutie,” she said to Loona with a wink, and Loona grimaced, a blush rising in her cheeks as she looked away again. 

“Thanks,” she managed to grumble. “Looks like the host is needed over there,” she added, nodding across the room at a group of people chanting about some keg stand competition that made Blitzø want to vomit just thinking about the one he did. Beelzebub gave them a small salute and whizzed towards the chanting, quickly getting lost in the growing crowd.

“Another fucking dead end,” Blitzø said with a sigh, shaking his head. “Maybe he’s upstairs.” He began moving in the direction of the stairs, but Loona put a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face her, giving her a questioning look.

“What the hell is going on?” she asked, and Blitzø suddenly found it hard to meet her gaze, scuffing the floor with his boot. 

“It’s complicated…” he began, knowing how cagey that sounded. “We really don’t have time -”

“Was he shot again?” Loona asked, and Blitzø’s gaze snapped back to her.

“What makes you say that?” he asked. When did Stolas have time to get fucking shot? He didn’t see that detail on Verosika’s shitty Sinstagram -

“I asked him if he was okay to be at one of these parties right now, you know, given that he got shot a few days ago,” Loona explained. “And he said something about getting shot in the heart today, and then something about giving you a break from bodyguarding? It sounded sketchy as shit to me…” Blitzø immediately realized what Stolas had meant, and his expression slackened, guilt painfully squeezing his insides.

The image of Stolas leaving through that portal, expression twisted and sad, ran through his mind again. Satan’s red asshole he really fucked up. He said those things with the intention to hurt, but he didn’t expect any of it to actually hurt Stolas, because Stolas wasn’t supposed to care about him. Blitzø stepped back until he was resting against the column, sliding to the floor as he pressed the palms of his hands to his forehead, looking at the honeycomb tiles under him. Fizz told him that this wasn’t the time to self-destruct, and he was right, but Blitzø was having a really hard time not losing his mind over his mistakes.

‘Stolas shouldn’t want someone like me,’ Blitzø thought, mind racing. He thought about that dickhead farmhand, and how it was like looking in a mirror and seeing his past self, when all Stolas was to him was a means to an end. ‘He never should’ve wanted me in the first place. Why did he ever want me? I’m not worth it -’

“Bullshit,” Loona said, and Blitzø quickly moved his hands away to see Loona kneeling in front of him, a rare look of concern in her eyes. Fuck, he’d said that all out loud. How pathetic. He gave her a wavering smile that he knew didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“I appreciate it, Loonie, but you haven’t seen all my fuck-ups -”

“I’ve seen you fuck-up plenty,” she interrupted, “so I can imagine.” Blitzø nodded. Then her expression softened. “But I’ve also seen the good things you’ve done. I mean, you took me in. You sleep on the couch so I can have my own room. You rush over when I’m calling from a party and want to go home, and then you stay when I change my mind, even when you’ve had your own fucked-up night.”

“Loona,” Blitzø said, touched. He shook his head. “Of course I’d do all that. That’s bare minimum -” Loona furrowed her brow. 

“You think you’re gonna end up alone,” she continued, and Blitzø’s eyes widened. “You were mumbling about it when we got home. You know, after you went bat-shit crazy the last time we were here,” she said with a scoff, a smile tugging at her lips. “But that’s only gonna happen if you decide to push people away because you think you’re not good enough for them.” She frowned. “Do you think we think you’re worthless? Millie? Moxxie? Me?” 

“You may not think that, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t -” Blitzø began, not meeting her gaze.

“You’re not,” Loona said firmly. “We love you, Dad.” Blitzø glanced at her, seeing the sad smile on her face. “And Stolas is clearly into you,” she continued. “And you’re clearly into him.” Blitzø felt his face heat up. “So fix things with that dork, okay? Just don’t end up fucking on the couch when I’m home.” Blitzø let out a surprised laugh, and then he moved to stand, helping Loona to her feet as well. 

“Thanks, Loonie,” he said, putting a hand on her arm. She rolled her eyes, a small, poorly suppressed smile on her lips. 

“Whatever. Don’t get used to all that corny shit,” she said, and Blitzø grinned. Then he looked around the room, feeling a lot more in control now. Loona checked her phone. 

“He’s definitely somewhere here, at least,” she offered, showing Blitzø her phone. There was a map, and a red, blinking dot at Beelzebub’s mansion. He looked up at Loona, raising a brow.

“Did you put a tracker on him?” Loona shrugged.

“I told you, he was being sketchy as fuck. Like he’d bolt any minute.”

“I’m so proud of you. Just like your old man,” Blitzø cooed, and Loona scoffed, putting her phone away.

“I’ll look upstairs,” she decided. “I found him out on one of the balconies last time. You check all the punch bowls. He could still be trying to get as fucked up as possible.” She paused. “He seemed pretty drunk.” Blitzø felt another spike of guilt. He clenched his jaw, giving her a nod.

“Sounds like a plan. Keep in touch, okay?” he said, and she nodded. He watched as she headed for the stairs. Then he looked around, spotting a massive punch bowl across the room. It was a good place to start as any. He hurried over to it, pushing randos out of the way and seeing if he could catch a glimpse of Stolas’ hat, or his fancy cape -

“I thought I said that motherfuckers weren’t allowed at this party,” a grating voice said, and Blitzø rolled his eyes, turning to see Verosika standing in front of him. She was checking her nails, wearing a seemingly disinterested expression for a bitch who apparently had something to say. Blitzø crossed his arms, raising a brow.

“Didn’t know you became a Queen Bee bouncer,” he observed. “Career finally fell off, huh?” Verosika shot him a glare. 

“You’re the one who fell off, Blitzø,” Verosika shot back, putting a hand on her hip. “And yet you couldn’t accept that and let Stolas be happy, could you? You just had to be the last demon to fuck him -” Blitzø dropped his arms, hands clenching into fists. She had no idea what the fuck she was talking about. But before he escalated the situation like he usually did, wasting even more time, he took a deep breath.

“Ver, where is he?” he asked, pouring as much sincerity into his voice as possible. Verosika raised a brow, looking him up and down in confusion, clearly not expecting this switch-up. He felt a tiny bit of pleasure at catching her off guard.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, eyes scanning across the room now. “He was over there when I was performing,” she pointed over her shoulder to the couch by the disco ball, those two imps still going at it, “but then he disappeared while I was taking pictures with fans -” she scoffed. “Why am I even telling you this? You should really hop off his dick, Blitzø -”

“For the record, he has a cloaca,” Blitzø corrected, and Verosika rolled her eyes. “And second, it’s important that I find him. I need to help him -” Verosika let out a bitter laugh.

“How're you supposed to help him, exactly?” she asked. “Confuse him more? Break his heart again so he really gets the message -?”

“No!” Blitzø said, a desperation in his voice that made Verosika’s eyes widen. His patience was wearing thin, and his panic was only rising. He held his hands to his chest, shaking his head. “You don’t know what I -” he pressed a hand to his forehead, “I need to fix things before it’s too late -”

“What the fuck are you talking about -?”

“He’s in danger, Verosika!” Blitzø tried to explain, finding it difficult to breathe normally, the phrase ‘break his heart again’ knocking around in his head. “Less than a week ago he was shot with this fucked-up ‘Love-Me-Not’ bullet and now he needs my help before he - he -” Blitzø couldn’t bring himself to say it. He couldn’t even process that as being a possibility if he failed to find Stolas in time. 

“Shit,” Verosika breathed, her tone finally less venomous. “I heard a rumor about those things.” She tugged at one of her ponytails nervously, looking around the room again. Then she seemed to realize something, and looked back at Blitzø, who was trying to steady his own breathing. He was wasting too much fucking time. Time he wasn’t sure he had. “He needs your help?” she asked, and Blitzø looked at her in confusion. “To cure him?” Then he realized what she was asking. He couldn't meet her probing gaze. 

“Yes,” he confessed. He glanced over to see the surprise on Verosika’s face. “He doesn’t know yet because I was too busy being an impulsive dumbass, but -” he heard his own voice waver, and Verosika’s eyes widened even further. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to remember the things Loona said while his insecurities raged against them, territorial as always. “But maybe, if I really did, if I do - if I wasn’t some selfish prick, I would’ve left him alone, like you said, instead of hurting him more -”

“No,” Verosika said, and Blitzø opened his eyes, his turn to look surprised. She sighed, flipping a ponytail over her shoulder and giving him a firm look. “It’s hard as shit letting someone go for their own sake,” she began. Blitzø frowned, nodding his head. “But you wanna know what’s also hard? Confessing that you love someone and not knowing what you’ll get in return.” Her expression softened into something sadder as she looked away, placing a hand on her arm. “That’s fucking hard, too. So if you have to do something hard either way, it’s better to do the thing that might save Stolas’ life.” 

“If I have to ‘do something hard’?” Blitzø couldn’t help but ask, smirking in spite of himself, even as his hands were shaking. Verosika rolled her eyes, letting out a scoff, but he could tell that he managed to get the barest of smiles out of her. Then she furrowed her brow thoughtfully, glancing somewhere past him. Blitzø followed her gaze to see a side door lined with gold.

“He might’ve stepped out for some fresh air,” she wondered aloud. “He’d been feeling feverish on and off all night. I figured it was the alcohol, but…” she trailed off, and then she must’ve seen Blitzø’s expression. “Oh fuck, the bullet,” she realized. Blitzø was still looking at the side door. 

“It’s a place to start,” he reasoned. Then he looked back at Verosika, hesitating, but feeling like he needed to say this even if it made him a cringe asshole. “I’m sorry,” he spat out, grimacing at how awkward it sounded. “The past few days…these stupid feelings I have…I know I said it before, but…I really am sorry. I think I understand how much of an asshole I was a little better.” Verosika sighed, giving him an attempt at a smile. 

“Whatever. I doubt I could’ve put up with your drama, anyway. Clearly I dodged a bullet -” she joked, and then both of their eyes widened. 

“Satan’s dickhole, Verosika, read the fucking room -”

“Oh fuck you! I didn’t mean it like that!” she said, putting her hands on her hips. They glared at each other, and then they let out matching scoffs, more in disbelief and nervousness than anything else, given the shitty circumstances. “Go get your prince,” she said, gesturing to the side door. “Call me if you don’t find him. I’ll ask around in the meantime.”

“Thanks, Ver,” Blitzø said. “Can you let Loona know where I went?” Verosika nodded. Not wanting to waste more time, Blitzø ran towards the door, pushing people out of the way and throwing the door open once he reached it. He stepped out into the side yard, which was relatively dark except for the lights that lined the mansion. There was a dense forest of trees only a few yards away. He looked around, but the place seemed deserted. There wasn’t even a lone smoker having a cigarette break. 

“Fuck,” Blitzø said, massaging his temples as he tried to think. He’d been hoping this wasn’t yet another dead end. He was desperate to see Stolas, for his own sake almost as much as for Stolas’. He needed to know that Stolas was okay. He dropped his hands, letting out a frustrated noise as he turned to head back inside - maybe he could ask Beelzebub to help him out? She could pause the party and make some kind of announcement? He vaguely remembered seeing something like that happen at a mall in the living world during a job. Some bullshit about looking for a lost child - but then he noticed something in the corner of his eye and stopped in his tracks. He walked away from the door, down the yard in parallel with the line of trees as he approached a familiar, shadowy shape resting in the grass. Then his eyes widened. It was what he thought it was. He bent down to pick up Stolas’ hat-crown thing. Before he could come up with some reasonable explanation that didn’t make his blood run cold, hands suddenly grabbed him from behind. 

“Get the fuck off me!” Blitzø called out as he struggled, kicking his legs as he was being pulled backwards. He began to reach behind him to claw at his attacker when a cloth was violently shoved over his nose and mouth. It was soaked in some kind of horrible-smelling chemical, and Blitzø quickly held his breath, fighting back more furiously as he managed to get a good whack in, but the attacker didn’t let him go, instead shaking him aggressively to try and keep him off balance. He could feel his consciousness slipping as he had to take a breath, thoughts becoming cloudy as he struggled to keep his eyes open. He fought to stay on his feet, but his legs were beginning to feel like lead, only weighing him down. Blitzø kept trying to pull the attacker’s hands away from his mouth, but his attempts were quickly becoming pointless. Fuck. He couldn’t believe that he let someone get the jump on him like that. Seeing Stolas’ hat had thrown him off, his worry turning him into some stupid amateur. But why? Why was his hat out here with no Stolas to be found? And who the fuck was trying to knock him out?

“That bullet didn’t kill the bird slowly and painfully like it was supposed to,” Striker growled into his ear. Blitzø’s eyes immediately blew wide, although he’d already had a sneaking suspicion. He tried to speak, to curse him out, but his words were muffled. That fucking cock-sucking loser asshole psycho prick - “That’s because you love him, don’t you, Blitzø?” Striker chuckled. “He lasted a few more days thanks to you interferin’, but I wonder what’ll happen if you go missing for a little while?” Blitzø managed to clock Striker in the side of the head, feeling a sense of violent glee that he could accomplish that much, but then Striker grabbed his throat in retaliation, squeezing as his other hand continued to hold the soaked cloth firmly over Blitzø’s face. “You should be lucky I chose to do things this way,” Striker growled, clearly pissed. “You shoulda seen the way that pathetic blue blood dropped when I whacked him - like a sack a chicken feed.” Striker began to laugh, and Blitzø struggled again, furiously trying to reach for Striker’s eyes to claw them out, to find purchase on anything he could tear and maim. How dare he hurt him. He was gonna kill this dickhead, blow his brains out and rip him apart and spit on his - 

Then his eyes rolled back, legs finally giving out as Striker followed him to the ground with a chuckle. He fought to stay conscious - he couldn’t afford to pass out - but it was quickly becoming harder and harder. “Just give up, Blitzø.” Striker crooned, kneeling as he held Blitzø from behind, Blitzø’s head beginning to loll. “The bird’s not worth it, and he’ll be worth even less when he’s dead -” Blitzø felt a spike of adrenaline, summoning all the strength he had left to throw his elbow backwards, hitting Striker where it hurt. “Fuck!” Striker cried out in pain, finally letting go of the cloth and loosening his grip on Blitzø’s neck. Blitzø shoved him off and gasped for air, holding himself up on all fours, hands pressing into the grass. He let out a weak laugh between coughs.

“You talk too much, dipshit,” he said, trying to catch his breath. He turned to face Striker, shifting into a kneeling position as he reached into his coat for his gun, but Striker’s holy gun was already aiming between Blitzø’s eyes. 

“I wasn’t plannin’ on killin’ you,” Striker said from where he was standing, titling up his chin as he bared his teeth, eyes filled with malice. “But you’ve been a fucking thorn in my side one time too many -” He released the safety, but then an axe suddenly flashed between them, slicing through the barrel of Striker’s gun.

“Get the FUCK away from him!” Millie raged, chest heaving in anger as she glared at Striker. In a millisecond she was on him, heaving her axe and swinging it viciously, Striker barely dodging her repeated assaults as Millie put distance between them and Blitzø. Blitzø continued to cough, heaving as he tried to ignore the way his head swam. He couldn’t afford to pass out right now.

“Oh crumbs. You okay, Blitzø?” Moxxie asked, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking him over. Blitzø looked up at him in confusion. 

“How -?” 

“Loona gave us a call and told us to come here ASAP,” Moxxie explained. He positioned himself to stand in front of where Blitzø was kneeling on the ground, aiming his rifle at Striker and following his and Millie’s movements. “She was incredibly rude about it, no surprise there, but good thing she called. What the fuck is going on?” Blitzø moved to stand, swaying on his feet. He shook his head, as if that would will whatever sedative was coursing through his body to fuck off faster. Then he pulled out his own gun, moving to stand next to Moxxie. 

“That crazy prick hurt Stolas again,” Blitzø replied, clenching his jaw. He was finding it hard to aim, his vision still blurry.

“I saw Verosika Mayday’s post,” Moxxie said, still tracking Millie’s movements to make sure she didn’t need help. Striker kept evading her attacks, but she was keeping him on his back foot, pushing him towards the trees. “What could have possibly possessed you to bring Stolas to a Queen Bee party, sir -?

“Hey, I didn’t bring him here,” Blitzø argued. “We…got into a fight.” Moxxie let out a disappointed sigh, and Blitzø couldn’t help but wince. “It’s complicated!" he said defensively, not for the first time that night. "The point is that we need to find Stolas, like, yesterday. We don’t have time to fight this asshole. He’s just gonna waste our time so I can’t get to him before -”

“Before what?” Moxxie asked, stealing a glance at Blitzø. Blitzø tightened his grip on his gun, trying to ignore his pounding headache. Then he looked down at the crystal on his wrist. 

“Before he dies, Mox,” Blitzø said seriously. He glanced up to see Moxxie’s eyes widen, still looking through the scope of his rifle as he tracked Striker and Millie’s movements. 

“What’s the plan, then? Should we try to kill him, or -?” Blitzø shook his head.

“I know exactly what to do with this cowboy cunt. Just watch my back.” Moxxie nodded, and Blitzø ran towards Striker and Millie. They were fighting in the trees now, slowly getting farther away from the mansion. Millie took another large swing, and Striker dropped to his knees without a second to spare, the axe whizzing over his head.

“Shit!” Millie cursed, her axe now lodged in one of the thicker trees. She struggled to pull it out, frustrated and seeing red. Striker grinned as he moved to stand, lifting up the now shortened barrel of his gun to aim it at her.

“Back off, you bitch!” Blitzø growled, decking him from the side. They rolled across the grass and hard-packed dirt, Striker’s spine whacking against a different tree. Blitzø grabbed the red bandana around Striker’s neck, lifting him up and punching him in the face. Striker laughed and elbowed him in the stomach, squirming free, but then Blitzø jumped on Striker’s back, wrapping an arm around his neck. “Don’t you realize you’ve become a royal lapdog, you stupid fuck?” Blitzø asked, squeezing his arm as tightly as he could. Striker raked his claws across the sleeve of Blitzø’s coat, tearing fabric and then meeting flesh. Blitzø hissed in pain, and Striker threw him off, kicking Blitzø in the leg as he scrambled backwards, both of them still in the dirt. 

“I don’t give a flying shit as long as one of those blue bloods kicks it,” Striker said, lifting himself up onto his elbows. He let out a manic laugh, shoulders shaking. “Imagine, Blitzø, killing an immortal being. No imp has managed to do it before - it would be revolutionary.” Both of their gazes fell on their respective guns, which were lying in the grass in opposite directions. Blitzø clenched his jaw. He couldn’t keep doing this stupid dance. Striker lunged for his gun, and Blitzø rubbed his crystal. Striker managed to grab his gun, but then his eyes widened as he fell through the portal Blitzø created, now laying on the other side. Blitzø quickly moved to stand over Striker, looking down at him from the other side of the portal. 

“Good luck being a revolutionary in this shithole,” Blitzø spat. Striker moved to stand and Blitzø kicked him hard in the chest, pushing him further into the living world. He could hear those dumb yellow cars. A waft of grease and smoke hit his nose. “Hey idiots!” Blitzø called out. “This sexy demon cowboy wants to steal all your hard-earned customers! Fuck him up if you know what’s good for you!” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Striker hissed, glaring at Blitzø in confusion. He moved to lift his gun, but then a pair of costumed furry fucks in red and blue lunged on top of him, keeping him pinned to the cracked pavement. Other costumed freaks quickly joined in a hoard. Blitzø couldn’t help but smirk, crossing his arms. 

“Gotta love the Big Apple,” Blitzø said with a chuckle. He moved to close the portal, lifting his wrist, but then Striker let out a scream of rage as he managed to break free, aiming his gun at Blitzø.

“No!” Millie and Moxxie called out from somewhere behind him, too far away to do anything. On instinct, Blitzø held up his hands, flinching away as Striker took his shot. He heard the bang, and in almost the same moment the portal fizzled out. Blitzø’s eyes widened in surprise. He dropped his arms. 

“Blitzø, are you okay?” Millie asked, leaving her axe in the tree to check on him. Blitzø patted his hands against his torso. 

“I don’t feel any bullet holes,” Blitzø offered, relieved. Then he laughed. “That fucker missed -”

“Uh, sir,” Moxxie began, quickly joining them. His rifle was on his back and he was holding Millie’s axe. He was looking at Blitzø’s wrist, and an icy dread crept up Blitzø’s spine. He lifted up his arm to check on his crystal. Shit. Striker hadn’t managed to shoot him, but he did blast his crystal to pieces. Its yellow glow was gone, the remaining magic sputtering out of the cracked-to-shit surface.

“Dammit!” Blitzø said, clenching his fists. 

“Where’s Stolas?” Millie asked. “Loona made it sound like he was in trouble -” 

“I don’t know,” Blitzø said, putting a hand on his forehead. “Yes, probably. Fuck.” What was he supposed to do? Then he heard the familiar sound of a car horn, and his head - as well as Millie and Moxxie’s - snapped up to look in the direction of the noise. Millie took her axe from Moxxie, giving him a kiss on the cheek while Blitzø quickly scooped up his gun, and then the three of them hurried towards the front entrance of the mansion, where Loona was waiting for them in the driver’s seat of the van. 

“Hurry up and get in!” she said, waving them over. Blitzø stopped at the driver’s side window, looking at Loona in confusion. “Get in,” she said again, more insistent this time. “His location changed, but I know where he is.” Blitzø let out a relieved sigh, his face heating up in embarrassment when he saw the look Millie gave him, and slid into the passenger’s seat. Loona quickly put her foot on the gas once everyone was inside, speeding them out of driveway and onto the road.

“Where is he?” Blitzø asked.

“Back at his place.” Blitzø furrowed his brow in confusion. 

“Really?” Loona picked up her phone, showing her screen to Blitzø as she kept her eyes on the road. She was right. He was back at the palace. "Did he manage to escape?" 

“Beats me,” she said. “I’m just going with what the tracker's telling me.”

“And why do you just happen to have a tracker on you?” Moxxie asked from the backseat, looking at her suspiciously. 

“Blitzø gave it to me. He plants those things on you all the time when he wants to be a pervert.” 

“WHAT?” Moxxie asked, outraged as he gripped the headrest of Loona’s seat, craning his neck to look at Blitzø. But Blitzø was still staring at Loona’s phone screen, watching the blinking red dot that was meant to be Stolas. He frowned, pain twisting in his chest. Please let Stolas be okay. Please let them get there in time. If only he didn’t let Striker get the drop on him. If only he hadn’t fucked everything up and pushed Stolas away in the first place -

“Hey, idiot! You want me to crash this piece of shit?” Loona asked through gritted teeth, adjusting her grip on the wheel. “Let go of my headrest and stop being a little bitch about it. It’s not like you ever do anything interesting -”

"I’m interesting and he does me all the time -!” Millie argued, axe still in her hands.

“That is an extreme violation of privacy, sir -” Moxxie began, still holding the headrest.

“Your old asses aren’t interesting, you vanilla fucks -” Loona said with a scoff. 

Then Blitzø dropped his head against the glove box and they all shut up, the car silent. He could feel them shooting worried glances at him.

“I’m gonna close my eyes for a sec,” Blitzø said, throat raw. “Let me know when we get there, and please hurry, Loona.”

“Right, okay,” Loona said quietly, stepping down on the gas. “We’ll be there soon.”

“He’ll be okay, Blitzø,” Millie said, reaching around the seat to rest a hand on his back. “He’s strong.” Blitzø let out a vague hum, closing his eyes as he thought through everything he needed to tell Stolas. He needed to believe that Stolas would fight, that he would hold on long enough for Blitzø to get there. 

He just hoped that he hadn’t convinced Stolas that there wasn’t anything worth fighting for. If he had, and Stolas ended up…he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Stolas slowly opened his eyes, cheek pressed into a cold, flat surface, while a burning heat he had never experienced so intensely before coursed through his body. His throat was raw and scratchy, eyes bleary and unfocused. On top of that, he had an absolutely pounding headache. He placed his fingertips on the side of his forehead, pulling them away to see flecks of dried blood. Then he placed his other palm on the floor, moving to lift himself up, but he quickly collapsed, limbs feeling impossibly heavy. He began to pant, fluttering his throat to try and cool his body down, but it was to no avail. 

“Finally,” a voice said from above, tone filled with disgust. Stolas felt something, or someone, kick his ribs, and he collapsed further into himself, squeezing his eyes shut as the pain compounded with the pain currently blazing inside of him. He forced himself to open his eyes, looking up to see Stella glaring down at him. Then a smug grin spread on her lips.

“Wh-where am I?” Stolas asked, hearing the strain in his own voice as he tried to look around the dimly-lit room. Stella grinned further. 

“Don’t recognize your own palace, idiot?” Stella asked, a bite in her tone. Stolas struggled to look around, shifting his body as much as he could - it was then that he realized his hands were tied up in rope. After a tremendous amount of effort his gaze landed on his chandelier only a few feet away, the circular ornaments looking dull and cold without any light to illuminate them. 

“Dear sister, it is more accurate to say that this was his palace,” another voice said. Andrealphus appeared from a shadowy corner of the room, bringing a cold chill that Stolas could feel, although it did little to combat the fire raging within him. He was wrapped up in his wintery cloak, posture straight and head held high. Stolas caught the smug grin on his lips, so much like his sister’s. “At least that will be the case very soon.” Stolas narrowed his eyes at him, trying his best to ignore the ferocious, all-consuming heat and focus on the danger in front of him. 

“So this your grand plan, Andrealphus? Kill me and everything goes to you?” Stolas asked. He used all of his remaining strength to try and lift himself up again. He succeeded this time, fueled by his own irritation. He let out a bitter laugh. “This whole scheme is dreadfully transparent. Someone is bound to realize that this was foul play, that you were involved -”

“Kill you?” Andrealphus asked, placing his fingertips against his chest and putting on a scandalized expression. “Never. You came back from a Beelzebub party, inebriated out of your mind, poor thing, and unfortunately, heartbroken and alone, and having indulged in the wrong cocktail of drugs, there was a tragic accident,” he explained, reaching into his cloak to pull out a gun carefully covered in an ice blue handkerchief. Stolas’ eyes widened. “It only had one bullet, but that was enough to do the trick, I suppose. It’s quite perfect - you already have the bullet wound to match.” Andrealphus said with a smirk, gesturing at Stolas’ chest. “Your powers were able to heal it somewhat, to dissolve any remnants of the bullet lodged in your heart, but not in time to save you.” He gave Stolas a disingenuous pout. “But at least you left us, your devoted, grieving family, a letter.” Stella pulled a folded piece of parchment from her sleeve, waving it over Stolas and laughing. 

“No,” Stolas said, desperation causing his voice to crack. He looked between Andrealphus and Stella. “Octavia, you cannot do that to her -”

“She’ll be fine,” Stella said, rolling her eyes. “She’ll have me. Clearly I’m all she needs.” Stolas felt frustrated tears well up in his eyes. 

“Blitzø will know that something is wrong with this half-baked, fabricated story,” Stolas argued, but his voice wavered. Surely he would, right? Surely he knew Stolas well enough? Surely he cared enough to question it? Suddenly it felt like flames were licking up Stolas throat, causing him to wince in pain. Stella barked out another laugh.

“You think that disgusting beast gives a shit?” she asked, putting a hand on her hip as she continued to look down at Stolas. She tilted her head, smiling gleefully. “We paid him a little visit before collecting you, and all we had to do was pay him - a relatively small sum at that - and he fucked off no questions asked. That’s how much you were worth to him.” Stolas shook his head, closing his eyes. 

“That’s not true,” he said, voice getting weaker as the pain was draining his energy. “You’re lying like you always do, Stella -”

“Were you ever even told what that bullet you were shot with does?” Andrealphus asked, drawing closer, handkerchief-covered gun still in hand. Stolas grimaced, forcing himself to meet his gaze. “It is called a ‘Love-Me-Not’ bullet,” he continued. “It slowly kills a person, burning them up from the inside out…sound familiar?” Stolas bit his bottom lip with his beak as he tried to fight the burning heat that made him want to curl up into himself and cry out in pain. But he couldn’t bite back the quiet, pained hoots that escaped him. He fluttered his throat on instinct. Andrealphus scoffed. “There is a cure, you know,” he offered, and Stolas looked at him in contempt. “It’s quite simple, actually - the touch of someone who is in love with the afflicted demon.” Stolas furrowed his brow in confusion. Then his eyes widened, the weight of what Andrealphus said quickly dawning on him. Stella laughed.

“You’ve finally got it through that thick skull of yours, have you? No one loves you, Stolas,” she declared gleefully. “So how about you take the hint and die already?” Stolas looked down at the floor, his expression twisted in despair. He already knew this. He did. But it still hurt to be reminded. To be so unloved, and then to be punished for it. To die because of it. His limbs were too weak, and he could no longer hold himself up. He fell back to the floor, any fight escaping him. What was there left to fight for? It was a question he’d asked himself too many times in his life. 

He vaguely paid attention as Andrealphus dropped the empty gun a few feet from where he lay, then pulled out glass bottles and handfuls of pills, scattering them around. He heard the click of Stella’s heels as she took a few steps away from Stolas, setting the letter down under the chandelier. Then she walked back to him, leaning down to grab his face with her talons, lifting his chin uncomfortably so she could get a good look at him. “How does it feel, Stolas?” she hissed. “To have everything taken from you, just like you tried to take everything from me?” Stolas panted, meeting Stella’s gaze, his fever reaching a new peak. These were likely the last words, the last conversation, he’d ever have. He took a shuddering breath.

“Being lovers…was never a possibility for us…Stella,” he said between labored breaths, “but I wish…we could have been friends…instead of this.” He paused, taking another shuddering breath. “At least for Octavia’s sake.” Stella looked at him in surprise. Then her eyes quickly narrowed, talons digging painfully into his cheeks.

“Maybe if you never slept with an imp and kicked me out of my own house,” she shot back, words venomous. Stolas sighed.

“We both know…that our problems began…way before that,” he said sadly. Stella stared at him, angry and confused, and then she let go of his face, his head smacking against the floor hard enough to make him see stars.

“There’s only one thing I wish for, Stolas,” she said quietly, clasping her hands in front of her as she straighted her back. Stolas blinked up at her, pain overwhelming his system. 

“And what is that?” he managed to ask, voice weak. What could have been done to prevent this? What did Stella want that would’ve allowed Stolas to finally live in peace?

“For you to hurry up and die. Alone,” she spat. With that she turned her back on him, leaving the room without a second glance and slamming the door behind her. Andrealphus, however, remained. He was standing by one of the tall windows, paging through Stolas’ grimoire. Then he snapped the book closed, looking out at the dark, blood red sky. 

“Hard to die alone with you still here,” Stolas observed, voice thick with pettiness. Andrealphus lifted a hand, and the ropes binding Stolas’ hands were suddenly frozen, shattering into a million pieces and falling off of him. Stolas knew that that wasn’t a gesture of kindness, but to add plausibility to their concocted story. It wasn’t as if Stolas had the strength to escape, after all. He was surprised that he was still conscious. 

“I thought you’d be a worthier competitor in this little game of ours,” Andrealphus confessed, quiet voice echoing. “You have been praised for your intellect - your job was to keep track of prophecies - and yet you did not see this coming. You only managed to delay the inevitable, and with some dumb luck at that.” He shook his head. Stolas watched as he began gliding towards the same door Stella left through, leaving patches of frost behind him. “Not much of a mastermind at all,” he mused. He rested his fingertips against the wall, pale blue magic spreading across the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Then he opened the door, giving Stolas one last look over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t want my new palace to go up in flames,” he explained, tucking the grimoire somewhere within his cape. “I will enjoy showing Hell what a competent Geotia can do with your title.” Stolas let out a weak laugh, and Andrealphus raised a brow at him, clearly caught off guard. Stolas gave him a grin filled with as much malice as he could manage for a demon laying on the ground, about to die.

“Just promise me you won’t let the Dragon Driller 5000 my dear Blitzy got me go to waste,” Stolas said, borderline delirious with pain and heat. “He probably spent good money on that. Unless you’ve grown too attached to the stick up your ass.” He let out another weak laugh as Andrealphus shot him a look of disgust. Then he left, firmly closing the door behind him.

Stolas couldn’t stop fluttering his throat, the heat becoming too much to bear. He held his arms tightly to himself, curling up into a fetal position and squeezing his eyes closed. Equal parts a blessing and a curse, Blitzø’s gentle voice came to mind -

‘Today was a bad day. We should’ve stayed home.’ How could Blitzø have called this place his home, even by accident, and then leave him behind so easily? Could he really do something like that? It didn’t make sense. None of this ever made sense. Stolas felt tears slide down his cheeks, dripping to the floor. Everything hurt so much. The rising pain was inescapable, and he was powerless to do anything to remedy it. 

Blitzø was right - Stolas had mistaken his misfortune as some cruel machination of fate, when all along this had been a grab for power from demons who were supposed to be his family. But in the end, did it really matter? Stolas was about to meet his end, no matter what force he blamed. He felt an exhaustion deep in his hollow bones. He was so tired. He had been for a very long time. And now that Blitzø and Via were gone from his life, now that he knew they did not love him, what else was there to do but escape this feeling? He would rather that than live a life without the two of them. Because that wouldn’t be a life at all.

He couldn’t help but mourn the precious time he wasted. He had truly lived like an owl in a cage, and now he was going to die like one. But maybe there would be a freedom in this surrender. Stolas took a shaky breath, closing his eyes, and then he did the only thing he could do as he waited for the inevitable. He began to sing as his fever continued to rise, remembering the song he sang alone on his balcony, what seemed now like a forever ago:

“You returned to my life, like a spark in the dark, a star I only gravitate to -” another shaky breath, his hands closing into fists as he pressed them against his chest, “But between you and I, our ending was nigh. I was a fool to believe, when you looked in my eyes…” he trailed off, a wave of pain washing over him. “You saw something there…worth knowing,” he managed to whisper, voice too weak to continue singing. The heat that had permeated within and throughout every inch of his body seemed to press against his skin, as if it wanted to burrow its way out. He struggled to stay conscious, although he did not know why he was still struggling. 

Because he didn’t want to surrender, not really. Because he couldn’t help but love and admire those who fought back, even when he ended up getting bitten. Even now, after everything, he still wanted to be a little more like them. Maybe he finally could, in his last remaining moments.

He opened his eyes, and with tremendous effort he managed to turn over, now facing the chandelier. He extended out his hand, trying to call upon his magic, but it fizzled out in his palm. So he began to slide across the floor, groaning in pain as he did so, until he got close enough to the bottom of the chandelier. He reached out towards the letter with the intention of destroying it. He refused to let Octavia read any vile, disingenuous words that Stella and Andrealphus had slapped together and have her believe they were his own. 

He managed to rest his fingertips on the corner of the letter, using all his effort to slowly drag it towards him. Once it was close enough, he crumpled the letter up in his fist. He tried to call on his magic again, but it was no use. He was entirely spent. He frowned, looking at his limp hand holding the crumpled letter. Then he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He refused to give up. He tried to focus as the pain coursing through his body worked to scatter his mind. Then he opened his eyes, flashing them at the paper ball. He let out a relieved sob as he watched the paper turn to stone. But before he could truly revel in this small victory, black and red flames finally burst forth from his skin, covering his arm in a fire that reminded him of his eldritch form. 

The heat was no longer just inside of him now. It had grown strong enough to finally escape, quickly covering his weakening body. A spike of adrenaline suddenly flooded Stolas’ system, and he managed to push himself up into a kneeling position as the flames grew, bursting from his chest and spreading wildly. He let out a scream as his world went up in flames.

“He’s still inside?” Blitzø asked, standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to Stolas’ palace. It looked like the lights were on, the windows filled with a pale yellow glow. Loona checked her phone, twirling the keys to the van on her finger.

“Yeah. Still here,” she confirmed, putting the keys in her pocket. Blitzø puffed out his cheeks. This should be easy, then. He just needed to go inside and find him. Where would be the best place to start looking? His bedroom? His study? The kitchen? But he couldn’t shake this nagging feeling that this was suspiciously easy. Striker had told him that he knocked Stolas unconscious. So it’d only make sense that his crazy ex-wife had him tied up somewhere, especially based on the conversation he had with Via. It seemed like that bitch was planning to pull off some big move tonight with her brother’s help, but why would they take Stolas here? Blitzø checked his crystal, grimacing when he saw that it was still definitely broken, not that he expected anything less. 

“Stay on guard,” Blitzø warned, looking over his shoulder at Millie and Moxxie, who were only a few steps behind them. They nodded, adjusting their grips on their weapons. 

“Should we go through the back, just in case?” Moxxie offered. Blitzø furrowed his brow. 

“It’d take time to disable those traps,” he reasoned. Time. Again he couldn’t help but feel like there was so little of it to spare. “Fuck it. We’re trying to front door. I’m probably just overthinking this. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth or whatever, right Mox?” Blitzø pulled his gun out of his coat, moving up the stairs and towards the front door.

“Yes sir!” Moxxie said enthusiastically, expression brightening. 

“Watch out for the tripwire,” Blitzø instructed once he reached the top of the stairs, Loona, Moxxie, and Millie not too far behind.

“Only an idiot wouldn’t notice that large cage hanging up there,” Loona said dryly, pointing upwards. Blitzø scoffed.

“You’re right, but I know plenty of idiots,” he pointed out, remembering how Fizz set off the trap. Loona shrugged, not denying that logic.

“Looks like he said that for your sake,” Loona said to Moxxie. Moxxie let out an offended noise, shooting her a glare. Blitzø was about to put his hand on one of the fancy golden door handles when the doors suddenly burst outwards, a torrent of cold wind throwing them all back down the steps. The cage clattered to the ground, dropping to its side. Blitzø looked up to see an ice-blue bird with fur wrapped around his neck appear at the top of the steps, his eyes glowing with magic as snow swirled around him, frost spreading away from him and down the stairs. He used his magic to lift up the cage, throwing it out of the way.

Blitzø knew this was too easy. He quickly scrambled to his feet, barely dodging the icicle that was shooting towards him. He looked over to see it embedded in the cobbled walkway, right where his face had been. Holy fuck. 

“Don’t tell me you're here to rescue my pathetic brother-in-law,” the bird - Stolas’ brother-in-law, Blitzø assumed - said as he inspected his talons. He was oozing with condescension, pissing Blitzø off even further. Then he dropped his hand, looking down at them all in disgust. “Little imps trying to help a low-rate Goetia, how…quaint.”

“Oh I’ll show you just how quaint I can be, douchebag,” Blitzø said, aiming his gun and shooting. The frosty bitch managed to dodge, but barely, and Blitzø watched as anger flashed across his previously composed expression. Blitzø grinned. Looks like he found a crack in that ice. He kept shooting, so close to hitting each time as the bird glided around, creating a slick, icy surface under his feet. Blitzø eventually slipped on that ice, falling to his knees. Moxxie quickly moved to cover him, trying to get shots off with his rifle. The royal bird prick created a pillar of ice to shield him, but then Millie ran up to it, chopping it down with her axe. Blitzø watched as the prick’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“You should go on ahead,” Loona said, helping Blitzø stand up. The ice was still slippery under his feet, but he managed to get his balance, looking up at her. 

“This asshole’s got magic, Loona,” Blitzø said, hesitant to leave them behind to fight this guy who could throw sharp-as-fuck icicles like it was nothing. Stolas needed his help, but they did too. He didn’t want to have to choose. He couldn’t. Then he had an idea. He turned to face the prissy bird. 

“If you won’t let us through the front door, then I’ll just go through the way I usually do!” Blitzø said, getting his attention. The bird raised his brow. Then Blitzø grabbed Moxxie and took off with him in tow, running around the side of the house and towards that all-too familiar balcony leading to Stolas’ bedroom. He glanced over his shoulder to see the stupid prick flying after them, both hands glowing with blue magic. Perfect. Blitzø shot him a grin, letting go of Moxxie to shove his pointer finger in and out of the circle he created with his other pointer finger and thumb. The bird seemed to get the message, because his expression became quickly enraged. 

“Please tell me this is part of some plan, and you're not just pissing him off for fun,” Moxxie said, keeping pace with him. Blitzø shrugged.

"I'm trying to do both," he said honestly.

"Talk about killing two birds with one stone, am I right?" Moxxie joked. Blitzo narrowed his eyes at him.

"What's with you and shitty puns recently?" he asked, shaking his head. "And let's keep the 'bird killing' jokes to a minimum right now, 'kay Mox?" Moxxie winced.

"Oo right. Sorry." 

“I need to get in there and find Stolas, but I’m hoping you can put those traps we set up to good use and keep him busy,” Blitzø explained as they continued to run. “You remember where we hid the flamethrowers?” Moxxie almost looked impressed. 

“Pretty sure. Definitely the poison arrows.” A devilish grin spread across Moxxie’s face. “Good plan, sir.” Blitzø felt a little smug as they continued to zig-zag, avoiding the icicles whizzing past them until they finally reached the courtyard under Stolas’ room. They managed to put some distance between themselves and Stolas' crazy in-law, but the asshole wasn’t too far behind. Then Blitzø heard a loud, pained scream coming from somewhere inside. His eyes widened, a deep dread seeping in. 

“Go!” Moxxie said, pushing him towards the lattice under Stolas’ balcony. “We’ll be fine!” Blitzø hesitated, looking over to see Millie and Loona rushing over as well, maintaining a healthy distance from the magic dickhead, whose attention was still locked on Blitzø as he quickly closed the distance between them, crackling with power. Blitzø looked back at Moxxie, who now had one of the flamethrowers in his hands, in the process of aiming it at the incoming enemy. “I remembered!” he said, nodding at one of the bushes. “Now go! Seriously, Blitzø. We got this.” 

“Thanks, Moxxie,” he said. “Don’t forget the sniper rifle on the balcony, too. And if things get dicey you all need to get the fuck out of here. I mean it.” Moxxie gave him a nod, focused on the quickly approaching bird, and Blitzø ran over to the wall, making sure to avoid the pressure plates that set off the arrows. He climbed up the wall with practiced ease, lifting himself up onto the balcony and throwing open the doors, entering Stolas’ bedroom. He hurried into the hallway, trying to figure out where to go next. Then he heard another scream and followed the noise, trying to ignore the way the sound made his panic rise exponentially. He ended up in the hallway with the covered portraits, and stopped when he saw that the door leading to the chandelier room was covered in a thick layer of ice.

“Dammit,” Blitzø said. He was so close. He pointed his gun and shot at it, but it barely made a dent. He tried to think. Then an idea came to mind, and he was sprinting towards the back of the house. He entered the pool area, running over to one of the large plant-pot-things where he’d stashed a bazooka. He pulled it out, bringing it with him as he made his way back to the ice-covered door. He stood at the other end of the hallway, moving into a kneeling position as he placed it over his shoulder, aiming it at the center of the thick layer of ice. The pained screams had stopped, but it only made Blitzø more worried, terrified that he was too late. He took a breath, trying to calm his frayed nerves, and pulled the trigger, watching as the ice exploded, shattering to pieces. Thankfully it didn't look like he ruined any of the paintings of Stolas and Via. The door was definitely broken, though. He dropped the bazooka and hurried through the doorway, running into the room. Then he stopped just as quickly, mouth hanging open in shock as he tried to process what he was seeing.

Chapter Text

Blitzø watched as an inferno raged in front of him, black flames tinged with red dancing around in a tight spiral on the floor, creating some kind of strange, spherical shape. The heat was oppressive, the chandelier glowing with a menacing light. Thankfully the room itself didn’t look like it was on fire, but Blitzø had a feeling he knew what he’d find in the center of this blaze - who he’d find - and it terrified him for more reasons than one. 

“Stolas! Can you hear me?” Blitzø called out, cupping his hands around his mouth. The ball of flames seemed to shudder, expanding its radius. Then it suddenly burst outwards with a force that knocked Blitzø off his feet, sliding him back towards the doorway. He scrambled to push himself up on his elbows, watching with wide eyes as feathers scattered across the room like obsidian knives. Heat. Flames. Pieces from that night came rushing to the forefront of Blitzø’s mind, paralyzing him with fear, his eyes lighting up in time with the dancing fire. Then he watched as the flames changed shape, the fiery wings that had been tucked firmly into a ball finally unfurling to reveal a massive, screeching owl. 

Blitzø remembered the time Stolas had rescued him, along with Moxxie, Millie, and Loona, from those wackjob government agents. This was Stolas’ eldritch form, almost, except it looked out of control. Blitzø wondered if those stupid-ass Bees or Deez or whatever-the-fuck had considered what would happen if a demon royal with magic was hit with one of their bullets. He doubted it. Idiots. The black and red owl flapped its wings, the fire spreading and growing more out of control, reaching the ceiling. It continued to let out loud, pained screeches, throat expanding and contracting. Blitzø watched the flames snap and flicker dangerously, feeling his own heart race as he fought the urge to slide back towards the doorway and escape. 

‘This is different,’ he tried to assure himself. ‘This fire isn’t green. You aren’t back at the circus. And Stolas is in there.’ He moved to stand, pushing aside his fear as he tried to block out the memories from the worst day of his life. He willed himself to walk towards the fire, pushing through the waves of overwhelming heat radiating from it. Once he was close enough he looked up at the owl’s face, its red eyes trained on him as it kept screeching. It didn’t seem to recognize him. Then he looked at the flames in front of him, making up the owl’s body. He had a feeling that this wasn’t Stolas, not really, but some kind of manifestation of this fucked-up curse. If he wanted to reach Stolas he had to push further. He just needed to trust that Stolas wouldn’t burn him to a crisp when he tried.

“You wouldn’t hurt me, right?” Blitzø asked gently, letting out a nervous laugh as he tentatively reached out a hand. “You could never stay mad at me for long.” He took a deep breath, and then closed the distance between his hand and the black tendril of fire snapping towards him. He closed his eyes out of instinct, turning his face away, but when he felt no pain he cracked open an eye, looking to see his hand covered in flame, but there was no burn. He exhaled in relief. If only Fizz could see him now, running towards a fire instead of away from it. He pushed his hand further into the mass of flames, the owl finally quieting above him, and when he felt confident enough that he wasn’t immediately going to turn into a pile of ash, he stepped through them. 

He looked around, trying to get his bearings after entering this curse-fire-owl-thing. It was disorienting as shit - a darkness that radiated heat. He walked forward as his eyes slowly began to adjust to the darkness, and soon he could make out a smaller ball of tightly woven flames. He hurried towards it. Although this one was smaller, located in the center of this larger, owl-shaped inferno he’d entered, it still loomed over him by a few feet, and was a good deal wider. It was covered in an inky blackness, but as Blitzø continued to stare up at it, he noticed the fiery red halo that surrounded it. He pressed his hands against this ball of flames, but was met with firm resistance. 

Something that Stolas had told him came to mind: ‘a boundary where nothing can escape, not even light’. The memory certainly didn’t leave him with a sense of comfort. But just because nothing could escape, didn’t mean nothing could get in, right? Wasn’t it the opposite? 

“Stolas!” Blitzø called out, trying to push through this ebony ball of fire again. He could feel the intense heat radiating from it, but again, thankfully, it didn’t burn him. He had a feeling Stolas was to thank for that, somehow, as if Stolas could sense that he was here and allowed him to get this close. But Blitzø needed more than that - he needed to see Stolas. To hold him and set everything right. “Come on, Stols!” Blitzø yelled, banging his fists against the wall. “Let me at least talk to you! I need to make sure you’re okay -!” Suddenly a small figure covered in red-tinged, black flames stepped out of the sphere, a few feet from where Blitzø stood. It seemed to watch Blitzø, tilting its head. He could see four glowing scarlet eyes.

“Are we playing pretend again?” the small, child-like figure asked. Blitzø looked at it in surprise, hands still resting against the stubborn ball of flames. 

“The fuck? No,” Blitzø said firmly. Then he winced. “No,” he said more gently this time. “I just want to see Stolas -” 

“Nobody wants to see him,” the child said in a posh, quiet voice. Was he holding some kind of stuffed animal? Details would flicker in and out, making it hard to make sense of what he was seeing, although he had a feeling he knew who this was, or at least, was supposed to be. “He’s too awkward and annoying. I didn’t realize that, but he knows.” The owlet paused, hugging the toy in his arms tighter to his chest. “Why do you want to trick him, too?”

“I don’t!” Blitzø spat, pissed off, and then he took a deep breath. He approached the figure - so similar to the owlet he knew many years ago - and knelt in front of it. “I’m not,” he said quietly, trying to sound as sincere as possible. Christ on a stick, this curse was so fucked up -

“Oh?” another voice asked, and Blitzø turned to see a taller figure covered in the same red and black flames appear from the sphere from behind him, posture straight as it stepped into the darkness. It looked like there was a cape trailing behind it, and it was wearing something that looked a lot like a fiery version of Stolas’ hat. “After he forced you to be with him? I remember the contract you formed well - I made it, after all, because I wanted to be greedy and selfish. And now he’s paying for it -” he said, gesturing to the sphere he just left. 

“It’s okay to want things,” Blitzø interrupted, moving to stand. He turned away from the owlet to face this new figure, a version of Stolas that, for a long time, too long, Blitzø had thought was the full truth of him. Greedy. Selfish. Privileged. 

“Even if it hurts others?” this new figure asked, regarding him. “Hurts you?” Blitzø shook his head.

“It doesn’t have to,” he challenged. “It can be different - we can do things differently -” the figure approached him, trailing his fingertips across Blitzø’s neck as he walked past, but he didn't linger, moving to stand by the owlet. Blitzø put his hand on his neck, having felt warmth there, but before he could turn to face it again, to counter whatever stupid argument it had about why Blitzø shouldn’t be here, a new figure emerged from the sphere. This one had its back to Blitzø, sitting on the ground a few feet in front of him. It looked like it was hugging its knees to his chest. 

“We tried that,” this new figure said quietly. Blitzø looked down at it in surprise, taking a step backwards. “We tried being friends, and look how terribly that turned out.” He watched as it looked towards the sphere, reaching to rest its fingertips against the surface. “It’s time to finally stop fighting -”

“No!” Blitzø argued, glaring down at it, but the hunched figure didn’t meet his gaze, back still facing him. Blitzø let out a weak laugh, frustration rising. “I know that deep down, Stolas - my Stolas - doesn’t believe that bullshit,” he said, pointing at the swirling sphere. “I know none of you really believe that,” he said, glaring at each figure as he turned around, stopping to look back at the one sitting. “Because each of you…each of you were drawn to me for a reason, isn’t that right?” He feigned a confidence he wasn’t sure he really had. He wanted to believe that the things Stolas said in the garden about him were true, but it was hard to ignore every instinct - every deep-rooted insecurity - that screamed at him that they were lies, or misunderstandings at best.

“You were so funny and confident, even when things didn’t work out the way you planned,” the owlet said with a giggle. Blitzø’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You broke into a royal palace, risked breaking the law, chose to make a contract with a Goetia you barely knew, all in pursuit of your dream,” the taller figure mused.

“You came back,” the third figure said quietly, simply, seeming to press its face against its knees, hunching further. “After everything.”

“Because some things are worth pushing through!” Blitzø said. Pleaded. “You saw a fighter, and you wanted to be one too. You still do.” He looked back at the sphere. Then he rested his palms against it again, wishing that if he looked hard enough, he could catch even a glimpse of Stolas inside. “Right, Stolas?” he asked quietly, hoping his words - his feelings - could reach him. But he was met with silence. He glanced over to see the three figures looking away from him, expressionless. “Fuck! Let me in you stubborn bitch!” Blitzø yelled, throwing his shoulder into the wall. He was suddenly falling forwards, quickly throwing his hands out to catch his fall. He looked up to see Stolas - his Stolas - kneeling on the ground, legs folded under him as tendrils of red and black flames licked across his body, winding over his limbs, torso, and neck, as if he was being held up in fiery chains that were bursting from his chest. He was hunched over, hands pressed against the floor as he held himself up. 

Blitzø quickly got to his feet, running over to him. They were inside some kind of thick cocoon made up of red and black braided flames, flames that swirled around them at a disorienting pace, tendrils snapping their jaws at Blitzø as if they sensed an intruder. It was a bit brighter in here, but still relatively dark, as if the inside of this sphere was overcast, preparing for a brewing storm. He put a hand on Stolas’ arm, and noticed that Stolas’ eyes were filled with those same black flames, and that his arms were shaking, straining with the effort of holding himself up. 

Blitzø looked up at Stolas’ pained expression, searching his gaze but seeing no recognition in his eyes, only pain. Then he noticed the bloody mark on Stolas’ forehead, and remembered what Striker had said about hitting him. Sadness, guilt, and anger filled Blitzø’s chest, creating their own churning, braided ball that burned. Thank fuck Stolas had let him in. He couldn’t imagine what it'd been like to be in here all alone as the pain only got worse. Did he even think Blitzø would come to help him? He had to have, right? He grimaced, the ball of anxiety in his chest digging deeper into him, poisoning his insides.

“B-Blitzø?” Stolas finally asked, voice so weak that Blitzø wondered if he’d imagined it.  

“I’m right here, Stolas,” Blitzø said, voice cracking in relief. 

“I saw a light,” Stolas said, eyes still full of flames, “in all this darkness. It was rocketing towards me, like a meteor. It was you, wasn’t it? Breaking and entering once again.” Blitzø’s eyes widened. Then he let out a watery laugh, shaking his head.

"I told you. It’s easy as fuck to sneak into this place,” he managed to tease, feeling his eyes sting with the promise of tears.

“I don't think that I can stop this,” Stolas said gravely, and Blitzø’s smile fell. 

“You can. We can,” Blitzø assured him, rubbing his hand up and down Stolas’ arm in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “You can choose a different ending, Stols. You can choose to - to be with me and allow me to be with you, even though I don’t deserve it -”

“You do deserve it,” Stolas said quietly, flame-filled eyes looking past Blitzø and into the heated dimness, as if he couldn’t see Blitzø at all. “You deserve more. That’s what I could never convince you of, and I still desperately want you to understand -”

“But I ruin everything!” Blitzø said, dropping his hand from Stolas’ arm to gesture around the room. “I mean, look! This is my fault!” Blitzø reached out his hand to touch Stolas again, but hesitated. He clenched his fists, looking down at the marble floor. “I hurt you -”

“I’m not some perfect, fragile thing, Blitzø. I was ruined before you snuck into this palace,” Stolas said, sounding weary. Then Blitzø felt gentle fingertips move to lift his chin, and he looked up to see Stolas finally seeming to see him through those flame-filled eyes, a small, sad smile gracing his lips. Blitzø smiled back, the curve of his mouth equal parts relieved and uncertain, and then Stolas fell forwards. Blitzø quickly stepped forward to catch him, arms wrapping around him in a terrified hug. He held on tightly, catching glimpses of the flames that continued to rage from all sides, and the ones that still tangled around Stolas’ limbs. It was like grabbing onto a star that was about to explode.

“Stolas?” Blitzø asked, feeling how limp he was in his arms. He buried his face into the crook of Stolas' neck, too scared to even revel in the feeling and think about how much he missed it, because he also felt the heat radiating from him, impossibly - worryingly - intense. “Stolas, please say something -”

“You’ve -” Stolas coughed, “you’ve never ruined anything of mine. Of me,” he continued, voice weak but sincere in Blitzø’s ear. “You were the reason I started to rebuild.” He took a shuddering breath. “But my attempts were faulty. I tried fighting. I tried making choices for myself. But I cannot shake the feeling that I was always meant to be alone. To die alone. The one battle I chose was a losing one.” He let out a devastating laugh. “It’s almost a relief. How terrifying it is to try for more. I’d always be afraid that the people in my life would only come to regret it.”

“Regret what?” Blitzø asked, still holding tightly onto him, soft feathers against his face. 

“Loving me,” Stolas confessed quietly. Blitzø shook his head, the way Stolas said those two words causing something in his heart to break. He pulled away, holding Stolas up by his shoulders as he searched Stolas’ expression. He looked feverish, sweat on his brow, mouth parted as he struggled to breathe. The flames had burned holes into his clothes, especially around his chest, where his bandages had been completely burned away. Blitzø’s fear ignited with a new fury, expanding at a staggering pace, and he reached up with a shaky hand to push the stray feathers away from Stolas’ forehead, stopping to rest his hand on Stolas’ cheek. Stolas’ flame-filled eyes looked down at him in surprise. It wasn’t enough for Blitzø to love Stolas. Stolas needed to believe it. 

“W-what’s that star called again?” Blitzø asked, hearing the way his voice stuttered, terrified of saying the wrong thing. “The golden-red one you told me about - the one that people thought was part of a double star but wasn’t?” Stolas furrowed his brow in confusion, and Blitzø gently rubbed his thumb over that furrow, smoothing it over before moving his hand back to Stolas’ cheek.

“Albireo? Albireo A, specifically,” Stolas answered. “But what does that have -?”

“It’s its own double star,” Blitzø said quickly. “Did you know that? A real one.” Stolas shook his head, still looking bewildered. “I read it in one of your books. Two stars that are so close that it’s hard as fuck to see them as two different stars. They move together across the sky, and around each other, and -” Blitzø paused, realizing that he was beginning to ramble. He took a breath, trying to rein in his nervousness. He'd never been good with words. “That golden star isn’t alone, Stolas, not really. Talk about a plot twist, right?” he said with a broken laugh. Stolas eyes widened, his mouth opening in surprise. Blitzø put his other hand on Stolas’ cheek, holding his face as if that simple action could keep him there, could keep him from leaving Blitzø behind. “There’s something I need to tell you, something important,” Blitzø continued, “but I want to wait until this is all over, so you can be sure that I’m not saying it for any other reason than it’s how I feel.” 

“Until this is all over -?” Stolas asked, eyes still wide and lost and full of dark fire. Blitzø nodded, feeling a burn in his throat. He’d been so scared that he’d lost Stolas, that he’d been too late. He was still afraid that Stolas would choose to give up, to believe that he was unloved, no matter how much Blitzø begged him not to. “I-I don’t understand -” Blitzø put a hand on Stolas’ chest, gently covering the star-shaped gash from the bullet. He watched as the flames bursting from it covered his hand, black and red tendrils pushing between his fingers as they fought their way into open air.

“Come on, Stols. You can feel it, can’t you?” Blitzø pressed. “Please let yourself feel it, Stolas, and believe me. Stay with me. I really can’t leave this room if you’re not here with me. You’re my other star. We’re a pair -” everything was coming out in a rush, words clumsy and broken as Blitzø finally began to cry, pressing his forehead against Stolas’ chest as he leaned into him, staggering, intense heat still radiating from this person who had become Blitzø’s heart, who Blitzø couldn’t imagine living a life without. He didn't want to let go. This couldn’t be how their story ended, not when it barely started. 

“I may not be able to save you every time, or solve your problems, or be able to solve my own,” Blitzø continued, squeezing his eyes shut. “But you’ll never have to face them alone, and I want you there with me as I face mine. So please.” He was met with silence, the shallow rise and fall of Stolas’ chest against his forehead his only indication that Stolas was still breathing. He forced himself to look up, Stolas’ face inches from his, and watched as Stolas continued to look at him in shock, throat fluttering. Was that not enough? Did Stolas not believe him? Blitzø opened his mouth, desperate to find something that would get through to him, wondering if he should just say ‘fuck it’ and confess everything right here, but then he watched as the flames filling Stolas’ eyes began to dissipate, showing those beautiful rubies he’d missed so much. His pupils were showing as well, and they were looking right at Blitzø. 

“You don’t think I’m a monster?” Stolas asked, breathless. Blitzø let out an embarrassing sigh of relief, moving to hold Stolas’ face in his hands again.

“I never did,” Blitzø said honestly, looking up at him. “I saw you as a prince, but now…now all I see is you, Stols. What I want is you. All of you. The good and the bad, like you said. We can have that -” 

“But everything I did -” Stolas said, trying to shake his head, but Blitzø squished his cheeks, keeping him there.

“I forgive you, okay? I did a while ago,” Blitzø promised him. “Do you forgive me for all the shit I did?”

Of course,” Stolas said easily, sincerely. Blitzø couldn’t ignore the relief that gave him.

“Then let’s finally move forward. Together. It’s way past time that you forgive yourself. Even if it’s for my sake.” Stolas continued to look at him with wide eyes. Then he let out a tired exhale.

“Hating myself,” he began, uncertain, his gaze sliding away from Blitzø’s, although Blitzø felt him lean into his touch, nuzzling slightly into his hands. “It’s a difficult feeling to stop,” he admitted. “But…” he seemed to consider something. Blitzø noticed the pupils in Stolas’ eyes change shape, looking a lot like hearts. Then Stolas smiled, putting his hand on Blitzø’s cheek as he looked at him once more, eyes raking over his expression. Blitzø drank in the sight of him. He’d been scared that Stolas would never smile at him like that again. “But I love you more. So I will try.” Blitzø scoffed, feeling tears streak down his cheeks, but Stolas gently wiped them away as easily as they came.

“That’s my line,” Blitzø managed to croak out. Then the flames around them began to dissipate, shedding off of Stolas, releasing him. Blitzø watched from where he stood as the fiery sphere began to fall down as well. He looked back at Stolas as he sat before him, surrounded with melting flames. His ruby eyes were shining, his expression soft. Beautiful. Then Blitzø watched as the horrible gash on Stolas’ chest began to close, leaving a small, star-shaped scar. “Thank fuck,” Blitzø breathed, moving to hold Stolas again. Stolas gladly collapsed into his arms.

“Don’t worry too much if I pass out,” Stolas mumbled, tucking his chin over Blitzø’s shoulder, his fingers splayed across Blitzø's back. Blitzø laughed, holding him tighter.

“I wouldn’t blame you, but I appreciate the warning,” he said, fondness pushing out the fear that had been building inside of him the past few hours. “You’re gonna be okay, Stols,” he said, trying to assure himself as much as assure Stolas. He rubbed comforting circles into Stolas’ back, feeling the tension in his spine as he tried to smooth it all away, Stolas melting into his touch.

“Blitzø!” Fizz said from somewhere behind him, voice strained. Blitzø turned his face to see Fizz in the doorway, looking around at the slowly dissipating flames with wide eyes. He was holding his hands to his chest. Blitzø noticed how quickly he was breathing, as if panicked.

“It’s okay, Fizz!” Blitzø called out, still holding Stolas in his arms. “The fire’s going out, see?”

“Were you just in the middle of all this?” Fizz asked, looking at Blitzø in shock. Blitzø gave him a shrug, and Fizz shook his head in disbelief, looking around at the flames again.

“I cannot believe I made you run into a fire for me,” Stolas said quietly, pressing his forehead against Blitzø’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I talked a bit with Fizz about…what happened. I know the weight of what you just had to do for me. I am so sorry I subjected you to this -” Blitzø pulled away in order to look at him, seeing the guilty downturn of his mouth.

“We’re moving forward, remember?” Blitzø said firmly, but Stolas' guilty expression didn't change. Blitzø let out an impatient huff. “I’m gonna have to start punishing you every time you say sorry for something you shouldn’t be apologizing for,” he decided, a grin spreading across his lips. “And yes, I mean in a sexy way.” Stolas blushed, feathers around his throat puffing out, but Blitzø had a feeling it was for a different, not-curse-related reason. Blitzø let out a laugh, giving Stolas a kiss on the cheek. “I mean it,” he said in Stolas’ ear. “I would do all that shit again if it meant I got to have you.”

“You could have me right here if you keep talking like that,” Stolas said breathily, and Blitzø looked at him in surprise. He caught the mischievous glint in Stolas’ eyes, and oh did that really make Blitzø want to pin him right here and -

“Dad!” Octavia called out, rushing across the room, machetes in each hand and dark stains that looked suspiciously like blood on her clothes.

“Via?” Stolas squawked, the seductive look on his face quickly replaced by utter shock. Blitzø stepped out of the way, Via crashing into Stolas as she hugged him, burying her face in his shoulder as they knelt together on the floor. Blitzø looked over at the doorway to see Ozzie standing with Fizz in his arms. He was also covered in bloodstains, something he looked pretty happy about. Blitzø assumed everything went well on their end. Fizz was still looking nervously into the room, the flames not completely gone yet, and then he must’ve felt Blitzø’s eyes on him, because he met Blitzø’s gaze. He managed a smile, giving Blitzø an uncertain thumbs up. Blitzø gave him a thumbs up back, and then he furrowed his brow, looking past Ozzie to see if M&M and Loona were there. They were okay, right? They looked like they had it handled with that frosty fuck in-law when he went on ahead, but what if…? 

Before he could slip back into panic, he began to hear a tapping sound. He looked over to see Millie knocking against one of the glass windows surrounding the chandelier. She stopped once he met her gaze and gave him a wave, grinning widely. Moxxie and Loona were standing behind her, looking unharmed. He exhaled in relief, then gestured for them to come and join them. Millie grabbed Moxxie’s hand and dragged him away, likely to find the closest entrance that didn’t involve breaking one of Stolas’ windows, but Loona lingered. Blitzø followed her gaze to see that she was looking over at Stolas and Octavia, looking relieved. Then Loona met his gaze. She nodded her head once, and Blitzø smiled, giving her a nod back. He watched as she walked in the same direction Millie and Moxxie left from. 

“Did you use these?” Stolas asked, gesturing to the blood-covered machetes that Via had dropped on the floor next to them. Via beamed, adjusting her beanie. 

“It was incredible, Dad,” she said, practically bouncing, hands clenched into fists as if she was ready for a fight. “I packed them in my bag, just in case, but who knew I’d get the chance to try them out. I even used some of the spells you taught me!”

“What?” Stolas could feel his eyes grow impossibly wider. He was quite certain that he did not teach her any spells intended for combat. “What happened, princess? Weren’t you at your uncle’s place? Did someone attack you?” He watched as Octavia’s smile fell.

“Mum tried to make sure I couldn’t get to you,” she said, looking away and furrowing her brow. “She hired people to keep me locked up. But thanks to your friends,” she said, gesturing to Asmodeus and Fizz, “we managed to fight our way out.”

“You did a great job hacking up those mafia thugs, sweetie!” Asmodeus called out from the doorway. Via grinned. Stolas choked. With Blitzø’s help - with his love, more specifically, a reality that Stolas was still trying to comprehend - Stolas had managed to finally break this awful curse, but he felt like he could die on the spot now from hearing all of this. 

“I did not think you’d come back to me,” Stolas confessed, looking at Octavia. What a relief it was to see her again, to have her hugging him, smiling at him. He wasn’t certain he’d ever know that joy again.

“What?” Via titled her head in confusion. Stolas bit his lip, trying his hardest to hold back his tears, but it was no use. “Dad…” she said, moving to hold his hands as she scootched closer to him. She searched his gaze, and then she frowned. “I was scared that you’d leave me,” she confessed, and Stolas’ eyes widened.

“Never,” he said firmly. 

“I know,” she said with a nod. “Because I won’t let you.” Stolas furrowed his brow, curious, and Via exhaled, giving his hands a squeeze. “You gave up on a lot of things, Dad. You didn’t think you had any more stories to tell. You gave up on finding love. You gave up on being happy. Sometimes it felt like you’d given up on living entirely, especially when you explained what happened with Striker.” She paused, as if she was steeling herself. “It scared me, but I didn’t know how to help you or change your mind. I felt so useless. I was worried that soon you’d give up on me.” Stolas opened his mouth to protest, but Via held up a hand to stop him. Stolas pouted, letting her continue. “After our fight in the kitchen…I decided that I needed to learn not to rely on anyone. I needed to learn to be okay alone, just like you wanted.” She paused again, glancing over at Blitzø, who was watching them a few yards away. He gave Stolas a sheepish look as if he'd been caught peeping, shifting his attention to some other part of the room instead. “But seeing you with that idiot,” she continued, looking back at Stolas. “Making breakfast and hanging around his office and being disgustingly happy,” she said with a scoff. “As much as I didn’t want to share you with some stranger who made our lives complicated…seeing all that made me wonder if I was wrong. If we were wrong.”

“What do you mean, dearest?” Stolas asked, having troubling following. She took a deep breath, a maturity in her steady gaze that made Stolas’ brows raise slightly. 

“After all the bullshit I’ve experienced recently, the one thing that made me truly upset, more than anything else, was feeling so distant from you. I missed you, Dad, and I was afraid to tell you because I was scared of the rejection. But I don’t want to just let things happen to me because I’m scared anymore,” she said, shaking her head. “So I’m going to fight harder for the future I want instead. I’m going to hold on tighter, because I’m not ready to surrender, not before I’ve actually tried." She let out an exhale, shoulders relaxing slightly. "I know being independent is important, but that doesn't mean we have to learn to be alone. I don't want to learn how to be alone, because being alone sucks.” Stolas eyes were already filled with tears, and he quickly tried to rub them away when he saw the concerned expression on Via’s face. 

“I am so happy to hear that, my darling.” He put his hand on the top of her head, pulling her into a gentle hug and sighing into it. “More than you know.” She hugged him back and he smiled, eyes blurry with tears. She had always been so much smarter than he was. He looked over to see Blitzø smiling at him, and Stolas could tell that he remembered what he’d confessed to him in the garden, about the type of life he wanted for his precious daughter. Who knew that she was already forging a path towards those desires.

“He isn’t all that bad, for the record,” Via said quietly, voice muffled in Stolas’ embrace. Stolas glanced down at her in surprise. Then he smiled again, holding her tighter and resting his chin on top of her head. 

“I agree,” he said, shooting Blitzø another glance. Blitzø looked at him in curiosity, not seeming to catch what Octavia said. Then Stolas pulled away slightly to hold Via’s face in his hands, pressing a kiss to her forehead and smiling down at her. “And know that, although Blitzø is part of my life now, I will never ever abandon you. I love you more than words can express. And I promise that I will fight harder than I have been. I apologize for upsetting you.” Via’s eyes shown with tears.

“We’ll be okay,” she promised, and Stolas started peppering her with kisses until she began to laugh, pushing him away. “Okay, okay! Now you’re embarrassing me,” she complained, although she was still smiling. He watched as she began to look around the room. “I’m glad this place didn’t burn down.” Stolas looked around as well. The very last of the flames were petering out, the room basically back to normal. Except, why was the door blasted off its hinges? Did the fire do that? “I missed being here" Via continued, pulling him away from his thoughts. "Uncle’s place is so fucking cold -” Stolas let out a laugh. 

“A frosty bitch through and through,” he agreed. Then he placed his fingertips against his mouth. “Hm, maybe I should refrain from saying such things about your uncle in front of you…” Via shrugged.

“He did hire the mafia to trap me in a room, so if the crown fits…” she offered, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. Stolas tapped her shoulder, giving her a scandalized look. Then they began to laugh. “Also,” Via added, narrowing her eyes as she rested gentle fingertips against the side of his forehead, where Striker knocked him unconscious, “didn’t we make a deal about you not getting hurt twice in one week -?” 

“Please don’t make me take that photo off Sinstagram!” Stolas whined, and Via scoffed, shaking her head before pulling him in for another hug.

“Ugh, fine,” she said, and Stolas hugged her back. 

“What’s the deal with this random-ass gun?” Blitzø asked. Stolas looked over to see him standing closer to the chandelier now, waving the gun Andrealphus planted in his hand and giving Stolas a questioning look. 

“And these empty bottles and pills,” Fizz added, now inside the room and kicking one of the bottles, watching it roll across the floor. 

“Oh,” Stolas said with a frown. Should he explain? He glanced around, seeing them all look at him in curiosity. Even Asmodeus, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He cleared his throat, moving to stand. Via helped him to his feet, tucking herself under his shoulder to support him. He gave her a grateful smile. “Well, you know, if my demise was presumed to be…self-inflicted, then it would be easier to -”

“The fuck?” Blitzø dropped the gun, clenching his fists. “So that's why they took you here. Those stupid assholes. Did they really think I wouldn’t know what really happened? Striker told me that he grabbed you -” 

“You had a run in with Striker as well?” Stolas asked, blinking at him in surprise. He found himself looking over Blitzø to check if there were any injuries, but he didn’t see any obvious ones, thank goodness. Although there were some smudges of dirt and grass stains on his clothes. Blitzø rubbed the back of his neck. 

“It’s a long story,” he said with a shrug. “What’s important is that I dropped that dickhead in the living world with no way back, so we don’t need to worry about him.” Stolas still felt apprehensive. Technically it wasn’t impossible for Striker to return. Andrealphus was currently in possession of his grimoire, or Striker just needed to run into a succubus with a crystal like the one Blitzø had. It was then that Stolas noticed Blitzø’s wrist. 

“What happened to your crystal?”

“What?” Stolas watched as Asmodeus pushed off from the wall to get a closer look.

“Striker shot it to shit with a holy gun before I closed the portal,” Blitzø explained, lifting up his wrist for Asmodeus to see, a sheepish look on his face. Asmodeus clicked his beak in agitation. Then he placed his hand over the crystal, and a yellow glow began to emanate from it. A moment later he pulled his hand away, and the crystal was now pulsating with that yellow light.

“It’ll take some time,” Asmodeus explained, putting a hand on his hip. “But you should be able to use it again eventually.”

“Thanks. Sorry about that,” Blitzø said, still sheepish, but Asmodeus waved him off.

“It’s not the first time I’ve had to fix one of these,” he said, “but don’t let that shit happen again. I’m not fixing it a second time.” Blitzø nodded. 

“Hold on, I want to go back to this plan that Mum and Uncle made,” Via said. She looked up at Stolas. “Did they really think we'd believe that you…you know,” she said with a frown, glancing over at the gun on the floor. “That we wouldn’t question it?” Stolas found it hard to meet her gaze. He glanced over at Blitzø, and then at the chandelier, specifically the spot where Stella had put the letter which was now, thankfully, an oddly-shaped stone.

“They didn’t believe any of you would care enough to question it,” Stolas admitted quietly. He noticed Asmodeus raise his brows.

“Did you believe that?” Blitzø asked, and Stolas met his gaze, seeing the hurt in Blitzø’s expression. Stolas gently pulled himself away from Via, giving her arm a gentle squeeze before walking over to Blitzø. 

“Stella told me that they paid you off,” Stolas explained, and he watched Blitzø’s eyes widen. “And after the argument we had…” Stolas fidgeted with his hands, “I didn't want to believe it. It didn’t sound like you, but I didn’t - I didn’t know what to believe anymore...”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Blitzø said, closing the distance between them to hold his hands. “When I overheard you and Fizz talking…I misunderstood. I thought you -” Stolas saw the vulnerability in his expression. “I thought you didn’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you. I thought I was too below you for you to ever actually -”

“But now you do know, yes?” Stolas asked, looking down at him. Blitzø struggled to meet his gaze, squirming under the attention. “I want to be extremely clear, Blitzø. I love you. I am deeply in love with you. With a passion, always, and with an infinite fondness.”

“Stols -” Blitzø began, furrowing his brow, his eyes roaming over Stolas face as if he was looking for some kind of tell, some kind of crack in Stolas' apparent certainty. But Stolas knew that there were no flaws, no weak points to be found. He meant it wholeheartedly. 

“And I do not need to hear any such words from you until you are ready,” Stolas said firmly. “I want to hear them only when you are ready.” Blitzø’s lips were parted in surprise as he looked up at him. Then he smiled, gaze softening.

“Deal,” he said. Stolas couldn’t help but wince. 

“Hmm, I think we may have had our fill of deals, yes?” Stolas pointed out. Blitzø let out a tired laugh, rubbing his thumbs across the back of Stolas’ hands.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed. “A promise, then. No fucked-up strings attached. Sound good?” Stolas smiled, fondness overflowing.

“Sounds perfect, my love,” he said, and he thought he saw the beginnings of a blush on Blitzø’s cheeks. He made a mental note to start calling Blitzø ‘my love’ more often. In fact, there were a variety of terms of endearment that he would use enthusiastically, if Blitzø would let him. Lucifer, Blitzø actually had feelings for him. And Via hadn’t been planning on leaving him, either. They both wanted to be in Stolas’ life. This was the bliss that he, until now, had thought would only exist in his dreams, never to come true.

“We’re here to join the party!” Millie said as she walked into the room, holding her axe over her shoulder. Moxxie was right behind her, distracted as he was brushing something off of his coat. It looked like he had smudges of soot on his face.

“I know I helped you make those traps, but we really went overboard, Blitzø,” he grumbled. “I totally forgot about the bazookas.” Blitzø let out a laugh, putting his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, who knew we’d be the idiots who’d needed to break in?” he said. Stolas hid his amused smile behind his hand. 

“How are you, Stolas?” Moxxie asked, walking up to join them. Millie had gone over to look at Via’s machetes, talking to her about them as they each held one in their hands. There was a gleam in both of their eyes that made Stolas a smidge apprehensive, but he chose to ignore the feeling, turning his attention on Moxxie. 

“I am feeling much better, thankfully.” He noticed Loona walk into the room next. Blitzø gave Stolas’ hands a squeeze before going over to check on her. 

“You should probably know that your brother-in-law got away,” Moxxie said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Millie got in a good hit, but then he blasted us with snow and disappeared.”

“I appreciate all of your help,” Stolas said sincerely, clasping his hands in front of him and giving Moxxie a grateful smile. “I will sort everything out regarding him and Stella at a later time. I have been brushing off their schemes one time too many, I fear.”

“I get it. Family is complicated,” Moxxie offered with a shrug, sounding like he was speaking from experience. Then Stolas watched as Moxxie looked over at Blitzø, as if he was making sure that he was distracted, before shooting Stolas a knowing smile. “Soooooo,” he dragged out, rocking on his heels. “Are you and Blitzø…?” Stolas giggled. 

“Are these one of those ‘annoying questions’ Blitzø said that you and Millie would ask?” Stolas teased, remembering what Blitzø had told him back at the ranch. Moxxie held up his hands in surrender. 

“Maybe,” he conceded, a smile tugging at his lips. “But I had a feeling you wouldn’t mind those kinds of questions.” He gave Stolas a knowing look. Stolas smiled. 

“Hmm. Clever tactic,” he observed. Then he looked over at Blitzø, who was a few yards away as he talked with Fizz, Loona having gone over to check on Octavia. Blitzø was smiling, a pretty flush to his face that made Stolas wonder what Fizz was talking to him about. His gaze softened just watching him. 

“Blitzø and I…” Stolas began, feeling as if his heart could soar. Then his eyes widened as he saw a portal open right next to Blitzø. In a violent flurry, Striker stepped into the room, lunging forward and grabbing Blitzø from behind. He had Stolas’ grimoire wrapped around his tail. 

“Blitzø!” Stolas called out, already running over to him, but he stopped when Striker pressed a holy gun with a sheared barrel to Blitzø’s temple, a warning in his expression as he glared at Stolas. 

“Drop your weapons if you don’t want me blowin’ his brains out,” Striker growled, looking around at everyone. “And start walkin’ to the other side of the room.” Panic gripped Stolas' throat. He looked around to see Millie set her axe down, Moxxie drop his rifle, and even Octavia drop her machetes, which she had been holding at the ready. Asmodeus continued to crackle with magic, however, the flames around his head blazing as he glared at Striker. 

“Please, Asmodeus,” Stolas begged, looking over at him. He knew Asmodeus was powerful, but they couldn’t afford to take the risk. He refused to risk Blitzø’s safety. Asmodeus met his gaze, and something in Stolas’ expression must have convinced him, because he dropped his magic with a huff. They all began to take slow steps away, towards the wall opposite the windows. Except for Stolas. “It is me that you really want to kill, correct?” Stolas said, taking a tentative step towards Striker and Blitzø. Striker adjusted his grip on his gun, a warning, and Stolas stopped, holding out his hands.

“Stolas, no,” Blitzø pleaded, shaking his head. Stolas gave him a small smile.

“It will be okay, Blitzø,” he said gently. 

“Dad?” Via said from somewhere behind him. He clenched his jaw, feeling a fresh wave of guilt. Then he met Striker’s gaze, seeing the wicked grin on his face.

“You’re right,” Striker said. “Are you proposin’ we do this the easy way?” Stolas nodded.

“Fuck that!” Blitzø raged. “I won’t let you, you cunt -” Striker whacked him in the temple with his gun, quickly pressing the barrel against the side of his head again before anyone could react. 

“Dad!” Loona called out.

“Stop!” Stolas pleaded, seeing the dazed expression on Blitzø’s face. “W-we can do this the easy way, yes,” he said in a rush, trying to sound as convincing as possible. 

“Okay then,” Striker said, obviously pleased. Stolas felt Blitzø’s eyes on him, and he met his gaze. Blitzø shook his head slightly, a storm of emotions in his expression, and Stolas felt his own heart squeeze painfully. 

“Blitzø,” Stolas breathed, holding his fists against his chest, hoping Blitzø could see the enormity, the depth of emotions he was trying to communicate in his expression. “Promise me you will not look.”

“Stolas,” Blitzø said, voice breaking. Stolas watched as tears began to fill Blitzø’s eyes as he continued to shake his head. “It can’t end like this. I won't let it -”

“Promise me,” Stolas said more firmly this time. He managed to give Blitzø a wavering smile. “Close your eyes, my love.” Blitzø looked at him for a long moment, confusion and anger in his expression, and Stolas gave him a small nod. He watched as realization flashed across Blitzø's expression, and Blitzø gave him the smallest nod back, closing his eyes. 

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” Striker said, licking his lips as he moved to point his gun at Stolas, keeping his hold on Blitzø. “I gotta hand it to you, blue blood, you put up quite a fight.” Stolas smiled.

“Quite the compliment, especially since you never got to face me when I had access to my powers,” Stolas observed. “But now you finally get to have a taste.” His grin twisted into something malicious as Striker’s eyes widened in realization. Because although Stolas rarely appeared dangerous, he could be absolutely vicious when he had his pool of magic at his disposal, especially when his loved ones were threatened. With spiteful glee, Stolas quickly summoned his magic, opening his eyes and staring directly into Striker’s. In that same moment, Blitzø broke out of Striker’s grasp and dropped to the floor, eyes still closed. In a flash of red light, Striker turned into a petrified statue, mouth agape and gun still raised to point at Stolas’ head. Stolas walked over, reaching down to grab his grimoire and snapping Striker’s tail as he pulled it free.

"Oops," Stolas said with no real remorse, wiping the dust off his book and looking it over. A devilish smile spread across his lips. Andrealphus stole Stolas’ grimoire and handed it over to an imp assassin who hated demon royalty. Not only that, but one of the seven sins was here to witness it. Satan would have a field day with this. Stolas tried to imagine the look of outrage on Stella’s face when she eventually found out that she didn’t get her way once again. He reveled in the feeling. Fighting back was such a rush. And yet, he couldn't help but let out a quiet exhale while his back was turned to everyone else. If that hadn’t worked, he wasn’t sure what would have happened. He may very well have given himself up after all, if that meant he could ensure Blitzø’s safety. He could sense that that one attack had used up any drops magic he currently had. He'd definitely overexerted himself.

As if to prove it, his knees suddenly buckled, but Blitzø was quickly there to support him, holding one of Stolas’ hands in his own and resting his other hand on Stolas’ hip. Stolas gave him a grateful smile. 

“You deserve someone who will protect you, too,” Stolas told him, a bit dazed. He noticed that Blitzø’s eyes were still shining with tears. 

“Thanks,” Blitzø said, a raw, gravelly tone to his voice.

“Always,” Stolas promised, resting his fingertips against Blitzø’s cheek. 

“Surely we’ve taken care of every possible threat, right?” Asmodeus asked, looking around the room. He shook his head. “A nerd like you should not have this many enemies, Stolas. I underestimated you.” Stolas let out a weary laugh. 

“I think it’s time for some celebratory sushi,” Fizz suggested. Asmodeus looked down at him, raising a brow.

“As long as you don’t eat an entire platter by yourself, Froggie. Again. I don’t want you getting sick,” he chided. Fizz huffed, crossing his arms. 

“No promises.”

“I’ll order it,” Loona offered, pulling out her phone. Via moved to look over her shoulder. 

“Oh! I love those!” she said, pointing at Loona’s phone as she scrolled. 

“Then I’ll get a bunch of them,” Loona said easily. Via smiled. Stolas felt a fondness as he watched them all, as well as a deep sense of gratitude.

“Thank you, everyone. I owe you all my life,” he felt the need to express. They all looked over at him. Once again Stolas needed to be saved, a fact that would always make him feel guilty, but things were different this time. He had the sense that they didn't help him out of some obligation, but that they cared about his wellbeing. He knew each of them a bit better, after spending precious time with them the past few days, and they knew him better, too. In that moment he realized - he didn't feel as lonely as he used to.

“We’re just happy that you’re okay,” Millie said, and everyone nodded their heads. Stolas smiled at them all, and then his knees buckled again, his vision getting fuzzy for a second. Thankfully Blitzø was still holding onto him.

“We’ll join you guys later,” Blitzø decided. “I need to make sure this one gets some rest.” He looked up at Stolas, and the incredible softness in his gaze caused Stolas’ heart to melt.

“Go do your thing,” Fizz said with a nod. “More sushi for me.” Asmodeus shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“I can bring some sushi up for you both later,” Via offered, and Stolas gave her an appreciative nod. 

“Thank you, darling,” he said, exhaustion seeping in. Blitzø took the grimoire from Stolas, holding it with his tail, and then led Stolas towards the door with both hands. Stolas let himself be gently pulled along, fighting to keep his eyes open as a thought lazily rose to the surface of his consciousness. He remembered the wish he had, when he was in that warehouse staring at the barrel of Striker’s holy gun, convinced that he had met his end.

There was one good thing he had been right about, after all. He peeked at Blitzø’s determined expression as he led them to Stolas’ bedroom, the two of them bathed in the burgundy glow pouring from the hallway windows. He felt a tug of fondness. He’d been right to love Blitzø, who lit the way for him time after time, leading him exactly where Stolas wanted to be.

If only one prophecy of his could come true, he was more than happy for it to be this one.

“Could you please pass me my grimoire, Blitzø?” Stolas asked from where he was lying in his bed, wearing a fresh, not burned set of clothes. Blitzø caught him blinking slowly up at him, clearly tired as he watched Blitzø pull one of Stolas’ spare shirts over his head. Blitzø moved to lay down on the bed next to him, raising a brow. 

“Is this where I ask you about stars until you fall asleep again?” he teased, setting the grimoire down on the bed in between them and sliding it closer to Stolas. He watched as Stolas opened it, the book now covered with a magic purple glow. Then a small portal to space opened above their heads. Blitzø moved to lay on his back to get a better look.

“I just wanted to see something,” Stolas said sleepily, waving his hands and causing the picture in front of them to zoom in. Soon there were two stars that stood out in the inky sky - one golden red, and a smaller blue companion. Blitzø stole a glance over at Stolas, and saw the small smile on his lips as he looked up at the stars. 

“What? You didn’t believe me?” Blitzø asked, amused.

“They really are so close,” Stolas breathed, wonder in his ruby eyes. “This whole time, and I never knew.” Blitzø reached over to hold Stolas’ hand, and Stolas looked over at him. 

“Now we do,” Blitzø offered, and Stolas’ smile grew, understanding what he really meant. Then he looked back up at the stars, squinting his eyes. Blitzø watched as he moved his hands to zoom in further. 

“There’s something else,” Stolas said. Blitzø frowned.

“I remembered reading something about how there might be a black hole hitched to the smaller star,” Blitzø confessed, looking away. 

“Hmm. It doesn’t look like a black hole. It looks like…a faint red dwarf star,” Stolas concluded. “How curious.”

“What does that mean?” Blitzø asked, looking back at the stars, curious as well.

“It means that Albireo A is what is typically referred to as a ‘multiple stellar system’,” he explained. “It’s made up of multiple stars.” Blitzø smiled. 

“A little family, huh? So does that make this third star Via?” Stolas turned to face him, resting his hands under his own cheek. 

“And Loona,” Stolas suggested with a smile, blinking at him sleepily. Blitzø’s heart warmed. Then Stolas closed the book, sliding it down and away from their faces. He shifted closer to Blitzø, and Blitzø’s eyes widened as Stolas wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. “I missed you,” he confessed. Blitzø relaxed into his touch, hugging him back as rested his forehead against the fluff of his chest. 

“Me too,” he said, voice thick with meaning. He felt Stolas pull away, and he was about to protest, but then Stolas started kissing his neck.

“I love you,” Stolas said, kissing his pulse. “I really love you,” he said again, kissing closer to his collarbone. Blitzø felt one of Stolas’ hands press against Blitzø abdomen, sliding further down. Blitzø grabbed his wrist, and Stolas glanced at him from where he was positioned by his neck.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Stols,” Blitzø warned, moving to hold the hand he grabbed, interlocking their fingers. He pressed a kiss to Stolas’ cheek. “For both our sakes. Weren’t you the one who said you were gonna pass out any second? And that was before all that bullshit with Striker -”

“What if I do intend to finish?” Stolas asked innocently, and then he swooped in for a kiss. Blitzø melted into it easily, kissing him back. He felt Stolas move to put his hand on his upper back, sliding his fingers between Blitzø’s spikes. Blitzø hummed happily, resting his hand on Stolas’ waist and pulling him closer, Stolas opening his mouth to deepen the kiss in response. Blitzø felt the warm, wet slide of Stolas’ tongue. He heard Stolas’ quiet, wanting gasps that made his brain fuzzy. He found himself sliding his hand down as he began to leave a trail of kisses down Stolas' body, resting his hand on the inside of Stolas’ thigh. That simple touch alone had Stolas arching into him, making Blitzø feel like he was going crazy. He used all his resolve to pull away, clenching his hand into a fist. Then he moved to kiss Stolas’ jawline, then his neck, leaving small licks and bites as Stolas’ continued to hold him close, praising him in his ear. Eventually, regretfully, Blitzø pulled away from Stolas’ neck, but was quickly rewarded by seeing the pretty flush on Stolas’ face as he pouted at him.

“We have a lot of catching up to do once you’re back to 100%,” Blitzø said, trying to ignore how his body and his common sense were in violent conflict. 

“What about 90%?” Stolas tried to compromise, those heart-shaped pupils making an appearance. “Who really needs the other 10%?” He began rubbing the tip of Blitzø’s tail between his thumb and pointer finger, giving him his most seductive, ‘please fuck me now’ look. Blitzø would be lying if he said Stolas wasn’t very convincing. He hesitated, leaning into the feeling, his hand gravitating back towards Stolas’ thighs. This bird was just too hard to resist, and it had been so long…

But then he saw the dark circles under Stolas’ eyes and he pinched himself, resolve returning.

“95%” Blitzø said firmly, before he changed his mind. Stolas pouted again, and he put a hand on Stolas’ cheek, gaze softening. “I need you to feel better, okay? Your body’s been through enough the past few days.”

“Perhaps. But it hasn’t had enough of you,” Stolas complained with a dramatic sigh, letting go of Blitzø’s tail to flop on his back. “Not even close.” Blitzø raised a brow.

“That curse made sure you had plenty of me, whether you liked it or not,” Blitzø pointed out. 

“I loved it,” Stolas said sincerely, turning his face to look over at him, eyes wandering over Blitzø’s expression. “That was the only good part about it, Blitzø, you being with me.” Blitzø scoffed, shaking his head. Stolas looked at him in curiosity. “Do you not believe me?” Blitzø’s smile fell. He shifted awkwardly in the bed.

“I do …but it still sounds a little unbelievable.” He frowned. “I mean, it’s just…me.” He cringed at how fucking pathetic that sounded. Then Stolas pulled him in for a hug again, holding Blitzø to his chest and slowly stroking the back of his horns in such a way that immediately soothed.

“If I must forgive myself,” Stolas said quietly. “I hope that I can also convince you to value yourself, because you are wonderful, Blitzø. The real question is how could I not be in love with you.” 

“You’re sure?” Blitzø asked into his chest, relieved that he didn’t have to ask such a stupid question to his face. “You won’t change your mind?” Stolas let out a breathless laugh.

“I will happily tell you that I love you an infinite amount of times, if you’ll allow me,” Stolas assured him. Blitzø smiled, resting his hands against Stolas’ chest, right over the star-shaped scar. He reveled in the simplicity of this moment. Right now, at least, there was no one to fight, nothing to worry about. He didn’t fuck everything up. Stolas was here, safe and - somehow - in love with him. Being in this bed with Stolas felt so familiar, and yet there was a striking newness that made Blitzø excited for everything that was coming next. And if Stolas had his way, one of those things would swiftly be the sexy dork himself. 

Blitzø ran gentle fingertips through the soft feathers on Stolas’ chest, brow furrowed in thought. Stolas wanted to tell Blitzø he loved him an infinite amount of times. Blitzø knew enough math to know that that was a big fucking number - it was the big number. And yet Blitzø hadn’t said those words himself yet. He’d been waiting for the right time - was that time now? 

“Stolas, I…I want to…” Blitzø said quietly, summoning his courage, but then he noticed how steady Stolas’ breathing had gotten. He gently pulled away to see Stolas asleep, finally too worn out to keep his eyes open. Blitzø smiled at him, fondness swelling in his chest. He pressed the lightest of kisses to Stolas’ cheek. Stolas let out a sleepy, pleased hum, relaxing further. Blitzø sat up to move the grimoire to the side table, and then pulled the blanket over the both of them before settling back into Stolas’ embrace. “I could never regret this,” Blitzø whispered into Stolas’ chest, finding it difficult to wipe the smile off his face. 

As he finally drifted off to sleep, wrapped in Stolas’ warmth and listening to the steady beating of his heart, he was comforted by the fact that it was a normal warm. No flashes of heat. No fever. No burning or pain. Stolas’ heart had healed, and against all odds, so had Blitzø’s.

Chapter Text

“...and our last drink is a cappuccino. No more than four ounces of milk, please, and made using specifically a Neapolitan coffee maker -” Stolas continued, double-checking the list he’d made.

“Uh, yeah, we don’t have one of those,” the barista - a baphomet wearing a white button-up and orange apron, said, blinking her goat eyes at Stolas tiredly. Stolas blinked back at her in surprise. Then he checked his list once again before looking back at her. He cleared his throat nervously, adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder. 

“But my friend has mentioned getting coffee from here many times, and this is one of his usual orders…” Stolas began politely. The other baphomet who was currently at the espresso machine, back turned to them, let out a laugh.

“Foxxie? We lie and tell him we use that fancy thing. We use this to make our espresso,” he said over his shoulder, patting the side of the automatic espresso machine as it wheezed. Stolas thought he saw the slightest bit of black smoke escaping from one side. 

“Oh,” Stolas said, furrowing his brow. He would hate to disappoint Moxxie after he promised to pick up coffee for the office. Then he had an idea. “What if I donated a Neapolitan coffee maker to this fine establishment? Then would you make it the way Moxxie likes?” 

“We don’t get paid enough for that,” the barista at the cash register told him, tone flat, but the baphomet at the espresso machine seemed to hesitate. He turned to face them, leaning against the counter and giving Stolas a once-over. 

“You’re that prince, aren’t you?” he asked, and Stolas tugged nervously at the collar of his turtleneck. He wasn’t wearing his usual royal regalia, but instead a pair of black trousers and a deep blue turtleneck with constellations handsewn into the front with white thread. He’d bought the sweater during a shopping trip with Fizz, but had painstakingly added the constellations himself, choosing to pick up a new hobby as he recovered these past three weeks. Blitzø had been kind enough to get him the necessary supplies. It felt nice to create something with his hands, and learning how to sew seemed amusingly appropriate for a demon in charge of prophecies. 

Many mythologies in the living world depicted fate as something orchestrated by weavers. In Greek mythology, the three fates spun, measured, and cut the threads of life at their discretion. Norse mythology also told of three sisters who wove the tapestry of fate under the world tree, each thread representing its own life. 

For Stolas, slowly learning to sew reminded him that he was still weaving his own fate, that life was not as inflexible that he had believed it to be, and that so much of life was about connection - strings finding each other and weaving around each other to create something stronger, to be part of something grander than one string could ever manage on its own. 

“He is,” Ocativa answered for him, looking at the barista by the espresso machine with a raised brow. She was just behind Stolas, next to his shoulder. Similarly, she was wearing a large violet turtleneck with constellations sewn into the front. Stolas had decided to make this one after practicing with the blue one. He could tell that she liked it, which was a relief, but she had complained about them wearing matching outfits in public when he’d proposed it this morning. Still, given that she hadn’t put up much of a fight, Stolas had a sneaking suspicion that she secretly liked this as well. “We could always buy one for ourselves and learn how to make it at home,” she said with a shrug, “but that means you lose some of your regular customers. Also, it looks like the machine you have now is going to blow up any second.” She nodded at the espresso machine as it managed to sputter out a foamy shot of espresso into a small white cup. 

Stolas would be lying if he said that the simple act of watching liquid spurt out from a nozzle didn’t make him a tad horny. Blitzø had been serious about the whole ‘95%’ agreement. They hadn’t been entirely abstinent, otherwise Stolas may have gone mad, but they hadn’t had the full night of unrestrained (although restraints were not unwelcome) pleasure that Stolas had been achingly hoping for these past three weeks. 

Yet, Stolas had a glimmer of hope that tonight would finally be the night. Blitzø had made them a reservation at Ozzie’s, and they planned to spend time together at his apartment afterwards. Further, something about the way Blitzø had been looking at him the past few days made Stolas begin to lean into his fantasies. He wasn’t certain of the specifics, but it seemed that Blitzø had a few tricks up his sleeve, some plans that he had already begun to put into motion. It excited him, as much as he knew the danger of getting his hopes up, of misreading things.

“This seems like a mutually beneficial deal to me,” Via continued, pulling Stolas back to the coffee shop as she concluded her argument. 

“Making espresso using a Neapolitan takes more time,” the baphomet at the cash register pointed out tiredly. The baphomet at the wheezing espresso machine nodded.

“What if I also supply you with a brand new espresso machine like the one you have now?” Stolas offered. “Or a better one, if you would prefer. Whatever would be most suitable for your business.”

“You’re really passionate about this, aren’t you?” the baphomet by the espresso machine observed, letting out an amused, but not unfriendly, laugh. The candle flame on his head flickered.

“My boyfriend enjoys the coffee here, as do my other friends, so I would love nothing more than to support a local business that they like,” Stolas explained simply. He wrapped his arm around Octavia, giving her a squeeze. “As my lovely daughter said, it would be mutually beneficial.” He gave Via a smile, feeling a wave of pride, and she rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. Then she checked her phone.

“Shit. We’re running late,” she said, looking back at the baristas. “I know Moxxie’s - or Foxxie, I guess - orders are completely insane, but at least we didn’t ask for that misto order he also likes.” The barista at the cash register crinkled up her nose, wings flapping once in an unsettled twitch. The barista by the espresso machine visibly shuddered.

“The shots of affogato and ristretto drive me fucking crazy,” he said, a haunted expression on his face as he put a hand on his forehead. Then he took a deep breath, regaining his composure. He turned his back to them. Stolas watched as he took the small, white cup filled with espresso and resumed making the next order. “If you can get us a replacement,” he continued, nodding at the espresso machine that was now making horrible grinding noises as he poured hot water into a mug, “then we can work something out and start making actual Neopolitan cappuccinos.” He put the mug on the counter and gave a nod to the imp who had been waiting. The imp took the mug and went to sit down. Then the baphomet turned to face them once more. “But I’m still writing whatever name I want on the cup, in return for having the most batshit insane orders. What does he think this place is? Heaven? We’re not in the business of fulfilling lofty desires -” The other baphomet nodded, placing her elbow on the counter and resting her chin in her hand, still looking tired. Then he paused, eyes widening as he seemed to realize something. “Wait. He’s not your boyfriend, is he?” Stolas blinked at him in confusion. Then he shook his head, letting out a laugh.

“No,” Stolas assured him. Both baristas nodded in approval. “Blitzø is my boyfriend,” he couldn’t help but add, biting back a smug grin. He loved any opportunity to say those words out loud. Via blew her feathers out of her eyes, and he caught her weary look. This wasn’t the first time Stolas called Blitzø his boyfriend in public. He gave her another squeeze and she laughed, pushing him away. The barista at the cash register raised a brow.

“Wow, really? Didn’t peg him for the relationship type,” she said. “Thought he was too cool for that.” Stolas gave her a nervous smile, not knowing what to say. He knew if Blitzø was here he’d jump at the chance to make a pegging joke. And now he was thinking about pegging. Lucifer, he was so incredibly horny. But he had hours to go until Ozzie’s. Fuck. 

“He’s actually a whipped dork who’s wondering where his coffee is,” Loona corrected, having just entered the coffee shop, the bell above the door ringing. Fuck, now Stolas was thinking about whips. He pinched himself to stay focused, watching as Loona put her hand on her hip, looking at all of them. “And where his boyfriend is,” she added, looking at Stolas specifically. “There a problem? Blitzø wanted me to check on you.”

“Dad is trying to negotiate so he can get Moxxie the coffee he likes,” Via explained. Loona barked out a laugh.

“That idiot can’t actually taste the difference,” she assured him. “Sometimes I get him a macchiato when I’m on coffee-run duty and he says it’s the best cappuccino he’s had all week.” Loona and the two baristas began to laugh.

“That dumbass,” the barista by the espresso machine said, wiping a tear as he continued to laugh. “He loves making my life miserable for no reason.” Stolas’ eyes widened slightly. He thought back to the complicated orders he’d have when he dined at The Richest Cup. He could feel his face heat up in embarrassment.

“I have no desire to make your life miserable by pushing this,” Stolas said quickly, tone worried as he turned to face the baristas, but the barista by the espresso machine waved him off.

“I enjoy making coffee, believe it or not. I’m just working with shitty equipment so there’s only so much I can do when assholes ask for the fancy shit,” he explained. 

“Well I will be happy to provide you with new equipment if I’m not making an imposition,” Stolas said sincerely. “I think the coffee here is quite excellent, so one can only imagine what you could do with an espresso machine that doesn’t sound like…well, a human sinner in the fourth ring of Hell.” That got a laugh out of both baristas, and Stolas couldn’t help the small, pleased smile on his face. 

“Compliments will get you everywhere. You have a deal,” the barista at the espresso machine said with a nod. “I’ll get started on your order. You can send over the equipment whenever, and I’ll start making those cappuccinos the way Roxxy likes as long as he doesn’t piss me off.” Stolas smiled. 

“Sounds perfect to me. You have my gratitude.” He proceeded to pay for the order, making sure to leave a generous tip. Blitzø had explained the importance of tips to him recently. It had baffled him how much employees, both here and in the living world, relied on them. Then he, Octavia, and Loona moved to sit at an empty table as they waited. He set his bag down and noticed Loona begin to type something out on her phone. 

“Just telling Blitzø that everything’s fine,” she explained without looking up, resting her elbow on the back of her chair. She scoffed. “He really loves doting on whoever he genuinely gives a fuck about. Better get used to it.” Stolas smiled, expression softening. 

“He’s been very good to me,” he agreed. More than I deserve, the sneaking thought began to manifest, but he was able to push it away before it took root. Now that he was taking his antidepressants regularly again, it was getting a lot easier to do that. And having such a wonderful, vibrant support system helped immensely as well. 

He even decided to attend regular therapy sessions in the Sloth ring. He had only just started, but he could already feel the difference they made. Octavia seemed cautiously interested in making her own appointments as well. He wondered if she had been waiting for one of her parents to start therapy before she did it herself, to show her that it would be okay, that it was a normal thing rather than this daunting, life-altering choice. He was happy to do that for her. He wished he did it sooner. 

It was truly startling to reflect on the state of his mind only a month ago. He hadn’t truly realized the darkness he had been trapped in until it literally manifested into a cursed, ebony inferno. He wanted to do everything in his power to ensure that, moving forward, Octavia did not feel that same deep, dreadful loneliness. 

Because she had been right - being alone was truly awful, and relying on others was important. What was the point in being okay, yet solitary? All it brought was emptiness. And now that Stolas’ life was so incredibly full, he better understood just how much he and Octavia had lacked.

He tugged at the collar of his turtleneck again, trying not to think too much about being full of a certain someone, about how he missed the feeling of Blitzø’s -  

“It’s you,” a snooty voice full of malice said, and Stolas looked up, startled out of his thoughts, to see one of Stella’s friends, a feminine owl demon with short, black head feathers with white stripes, looming over him. Stolas looked up at her tiredly. What was that word that Blitzø liked to use? Ah yes, she was quite the boner-killer. 

“Yes, hello,” Stolas said, tone neutral. “I didn’t know you were a patron of this coffee shop.” She scoffed, her glowing yellow eyes narrowing as she glared down at him.

“Of course I’m not, you imbecile,” she said loudly, tone sharp. She clearly didn’t care who heard her. “I saw you through the window as I was passing by to go shopping at much more expensive places.” Loona let out a disgusted noise, rolling her eyes. 

“Get to the fucking point, bitch, or beat it,” Loona said, training her judgmental gaze up at her from where she sat, posture relaxed and unbothered. “What the fuck do you want?” Stella’s friend - Stolas didn’t care enough to remember her name - clutched the large pearls around her neck, taking a step back. 

“Well I never,” she said. She looked back at Stolas. “Stella told me about the mangy company you keep now,” she spat. Loona began to growl, “but I assumed she was exaggerating. No respectable Goetia would ever -”

“Did my Mum also tell you that everything she got in the divorce was taken away because we had proof that she tried to kill my dad?” Octavia asked, chair scrapping across the floor as she quickly moved to stand. “And now there’s no future in which she’ll take anything from him again?” The lady looked at her with wide eyes. Via let out a bitter laugh. “I’d imagine you believe that no ‘respectable Goetia’ should be poor -”

“She’s not poor,” the lady huffed. “She has Andrealphus to support her. At least one member of her family has some sense.” She shook her head. “I say, Octavia, I cannot believe you have decided to side with your pathetic, awkward twig of a father -”

“I’ll snap you like a twig if you think I’ll let this bullshit slide, cunt,” Loona said, getting up from her seat as well, clenching her fists. Stolas quickly stood, putting his hands on Via and Loona’s shoulders. 

“I appreciate you both standing up for me, but I would hate to cause a commotion here,” he said calmly, looking at them both with warmth before his gaze landed on Stella’s friend. His expression swiftly cooled. “Honestly, I do not give a fuck about what you think of me, and I don’t recall asking. My life is happier than it has ever been, and I know that that simple fact must infuriate you all given that you’re trapped in your own sad, empty lives -”

“Order’s ready, your highness!” the barista at the cash register called out, the other barista placing two 4-cup carriers full of coffees on the counter. Stolas nodded at them appreciatively, and then his eyes widened slightly when he saw the weapons they had half-concealed. They were looking at him as if asking if he wanted them to jump in. His beak parted in surprise, and then he smiled, giving them a small shake of his head. They shrugged, putting their weapons away. He looked back at Stella’s friend. 

“Regretfully, I have to end this lovely conversation and get back to my aforementioned happy life,” he said, tone dripping with sarcasm. “And I’ll have you know that my boyfriend is going to fuck my ‘pathetic, awkward, twig’ ass exceptionally well tonight, like he always has. And as a steward of prophecies, you can bet that tacky necklace you’re wearing that I’m telling the truth.” He grinned as he watched her eyes widen in shock. “I hope that Stella can find it in that shriveled, black heart of hers to finally move on and care about her own life instead of meddling in mine. But if you get word that she is incapable of doing that, do let her know that I have no qualms about sending that harpy to court a second time. She and her brother already know that I am sitting on extremely incriminating evidence that I have been merciful enough not to use.”

“Well I have never -” the owl lady said, mouth opening and closing much like a fish out of water. Stolas rolled his eyes. 

“There’s a first time for everything, I suppose,” he said tiredly. This conversation had gone on way too long. “Now kindly fuck off, close that gaping beak of yours, and go on that fancy shopping spree,” he said, crossing his arms and staring her down. 

“Fuck yeah, Stolas,” Loona said, sounding impressed.

“We didn’t need to know about your plans tonight, Dad,” Octavia complained, rubbing her temples. They watched as Stella’s friend looked at all of them in shock, sputtering indignantly, and then she stormed out of the coffee shop, still clutching her pearls and saying something under her breath that Stolas didn’t care to know. He picked up his bag and walked over to the counter, where the baristas had been watching with interest. He grabbed one of the trays, glancing down at their name tags. 

“Thank you Beatrice, Jay,” Stolas said, giving them both a nod. “I’ll be sending some new machines over soon.” Beatrice looked considerably more awake.

“I get it now,” she said with a smirk. “Blitzø must be obsessed with you.” Stolas couldn’t suppress his smug smile.

“And I am equally as obsessed with him,” he said simply. Beatrice let out an amused puff of air, nodding in approval. Octavia grabbed the other tray.

“We’re late,” she reminded him. Then she hesitated. “Are you going to tell him what just happened?”

“He’ll be fucking pissed about it,” Loona pointed out, standing behind them. Stolas shrugged, giving Beatrice and Jay a final nod before heading towards the exit. Octavia kept pace with him while Loona trailed behind.

“Perhaps I will mention it at some point,” Stolas said with a shrug, “but this was truly such a minor situation, and I would hate to distract him from his work. He’s been so busy catching up on everything he missed while he was busy guarding me.” Loona scoffed.

“He would’ve dodged that work regardless,” she said. “Especially recently. He was a snotty, lazy mess when you two had that falling out.” He glanced over to see her shudder. “He made me burn so many fucking owls,” she said under her breath, a haunted look in her eyes. Stolas raised his brows in surprise, wondering what she was talking about. 

“So was he,” Octavia added, nodding at Stolas and looking over her shoulder at Loona as they continued to walk. Stolas felt his face heat up in embarrassment. Then a thought occurred to him.

“I mean, true double stars do follow the same gravitational path…maybe, in some cosmic way, they share their emotional highs and lows as well,” he offered. Now it was Octavia’s turn to scoff.

“You’re such a nerd, Dad.” She tapped his arm with her own, smiling up at him. 

“Woah, I just realized that you two are matching,” Loona observed, moving to look at the front of their sweaters as they continued to walk. Stolas looked over to see Octavia’s face flush with embarrassment. “These the ones you sewed? Blitzø mentioned something about that.” Stolas was touched that she remembered.

“Yes. I am still quite the amateur, but it has been fun learning something new.” 

“You planning on making ones for me and Blitzø?” Loona asked. Via looked at her in surprise.

“You want one, too?” she asked. Loona strugged, moving next to Via to walk with them.

“Yeah, why not? They’re cool.”

“But aren’t matching outfits kind of…” Via began, glancing over at Stolas before looking back at Loona. “Dorky?” she said quietly, looking self-conscious. Loona laughed.

“Do you think that? Or are you worried other demons might?” Loona asked. “Because if you live your life worried about what random dickheads are thinking all the time, who’re you really living for?” Octavia considered that, blinking as she looked straight ahead.

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “You’re right.” Then she smiled, leaning against Loona for a moment before pulling away. She’d become a lot more affectionate lately, an observation that filled Stolas with joy. She had more of a bounce in her step as well, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders. 

Of course, it would be naive to say that not seeing her mother these past few weeks hadn’t been difficult and confusing for her. She had always felt closer to Stolas, something she had admitted to him recently, but Stella was still her mother. And yet, Octavia had also opened up about how relieved she was seeing that he was a lot happier, a lot more open with her, and that they spent more time together again. And she enjoyed having more individuals in her life to spend time with. 

It would be wrong to say that everything was simple and perfect now, but Octavia and Stolas were both aligned that things were astronomically better, and were getting better every day. The stagnation they had gotten used to, had surrendered to for so long, was over now. 

“The next time we pick up coffees we’re all wearing matching sweaters, then,” Via decided, a teasing edge to her smile. Loona laughed. 

“That was a beautiful point, Loona,” Stolas said sincerely, and Loona shrugged, playing with her hair now a little bashfully. 

“Hard not to consider that when Blitzø’s my dad,” she explained with a shrug. “But don’t be a snitch and tell him I said that,” she warned, glaring over at him. Stolas laughed, nodding his head. 

“Speaking of snitching,” he broached. They were almost at the office building. He looked down at the coffee cup labeled ‘Coxxie’. He quickly swallowed his laugh. That was a new one. “Should we tell Moxxie that -?”

“Hell no,” Loona said, opening the door for them. “He’s never actually had a coffee made with whatever-the-fuck that fancy coffee maker is called.” She paused, following behind them as they entered the building. “Who knows - you might be going to all this trouble to get his coffee made the crazy way he wants and he may not even like it.” Stolas smiled.

“I guess we’ll never know until we try,” he offered. “Another thing that is hard not to consider when someone like Blitzø is in your life.”

“Huh? Who’s hard for me?” Blitzø asked, exiting the elevator. He walked over to them, taking the tray of coffees from Octavia.

“Thanks for grabbing these, sweetie,” he said, giving her a wink. “Mills was just telling me about the weapons training you two did last night. She says you’re one kick-ass student. Not that I’m surprised.”

“She really said that?” Via said, eyes shining from the praise. Blitzø nodded.

“And she’s a tough critic when it comes to fighting, so she wouldn’t say that about anyone,” he added, leading them towards the elevator. He turned to give Stolas a warm smile that had his heart melting in an instant. “What’d you think about last night’s training sesh?” he asked, looking back over at Via.

“It was incredible! Millie is so cool,” Via said as they all piled into the elevator. Her hands were clenched in excited fists. “She taught me this one move, where, if I can learn the right trajectory and put enough power into my strike, I can slice someone clean in half!” Stolas leaned against the back of the elevator as Loona pressed the button for their floor. He was feeling lightheaded all of a sudden.

“You can also use magic from a safe, very far distance,” he offered weakly. “Don’t forget our training sessions too, princess.” He felt Blitzø’s tail wrap around his leg in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture, yet that simple action offered excitement as much as comfort. He could never get enough of Blitzø’s touch. 

“C’mon, Dad,” Via said, rolling her eyes. “What if I get attacked by the mafia again? Better to have options, right?” 

“I would like to believe that that was a singular occurrence,” Stolas said nervously. Then he sighed. “But I suppose you have a point, darling. It is indeed a dangerous world out there, and it’s important to learn new things.” 

“Yeah, like castrating assholes,” Blitzø offered helpfully. Stolas grimaced. 

“Yes, that is one example I suppose.”

“Millie hasn’t taught me how to do that yet,” Octavia said, frowning as she looked down at Blitzø. “Is it difficult?” Loona laughed.

“Nah, especially when you have machetes. I bet Millie would love to teach you that next.” Via’s eyes lit up in excitement. Stolas found himself sliding down the wall of the elevator, a worried hoot escaping him. He felt Blitzø slide his hand around him to rest on his hip, holding Stolas up with one hand as he held the tray with his other. He looked up at Stolas, a smile on his lips.

“And how was your time with Moxxie?” he asked. “You two went to see a musical in the living world while they were training, yeah?” Stolas felt his worry ease as he thought back to last night. In that same moment the elevator doors opened. They stepped out into the hallway.

“It was incredible!” Stolas said, and then realized that he’d echoed his daughter’s response. He noticed the glimmer of amusement in Blitzø’s eyes as he continued to look up at Stolas. Clearly he had noticed as well. The four of them started to walk down the hall, Blitzø and Stolas in front and Via and Loona following behind. 

“Moxxie was just talking my ear off about it,” Loona said with a groan. “He just kept going on and on. I leapt at the chance to get the fuck out of there and hang with you two instead.”

“Dad was raving about it last night as well,” Via said to Loona, sounding amused. “Seems like those two really found their match.”

“Hey now, you’re making it sound like they’re a couple,” Blitzø complained, his hand still on Stolas’ hip. “It’s making me jealous of fucking Moxxie.” Stolas bent down to press a kiss on one of his horns. Then he stopped outside of Verosika’s studio, which was right across the hall from the I.M.P. office. He looked back at Blitzø and gave him a wink.

“Do try not to get overly jealous while I drop off an iced latte for your ex,” he said. Then a thought occurred to him. He walked up to Blitzø again, bending down to whisper in his ear. “But if you cannot help it, I promise to more than make up for it tonight.” He ran his fingertips across Blitzø’s neck. “My love.” He pulled away, seeing the way Blitzø gulped, his face redder than usual as he looked up at Stolas. 

“Don’t let her keep you too long,” he said with a frown, nodding at the studio door. “I wanna see you in my office in five. We have, uh, important work to discuss,” he said, his voice gravelly and wanting. Loona scoffed.

“Work. Right,” she said, and walked over to the door to their office and opened it, holding the door open for Via as they both walked inside. The door closed behind them, leaving the two of them alone in the hallway.

“I’ll keep it brief,” Stolas promised with a smile. Blitzø put a hand on the outside of his thigh, rubbing small circles with his thumb that made Stolas’ face flush.

“You look handsome in that sweater,” Blitzø said. Stolas laughed. He knew exactly what Blitzø was doing.

“You’ve mentioned that before. More than once,” he reminded him. Blitzø grinned.

“Because I mean it. But I’ll admit, all I’m thinking about now is how much I wanna take it off,” he said suggestively. Stolas glanced around the still thankfully empty hallway, face flushing even further. He hesitated, and then bent down again, giving Blitzø a kiss on the lips, the two of them careful not to spill the coffees in their trays as Blitzø quickly deepened it, putting a hand on Stolas’ cheek. They lingered for a sweet yet heavy moment, Stolas falling into the feeling easily, desperately wanting more.

“Satan’s asshole. At least wait to do it on the desk behind closed doors like civilized demons.” Stolas straightened up in surprise, turning to see Verosika standing in the doorway of the studio, arms crossed. He gave her a nervous smile. 

“That was my fault. I got a little carried away…” Stolas began, sheepish.

“Hey, if we wanna fuck in the hallway everyone else should just…avoid the hallway,” Blitzø argued weakly. Verosika raised a brow.

“Knowing you, I guess it would only last a minute,” she conceded, leaning her hip against the doorframe. “And that’s on a good day.” Blitzø let out an offended noise, tail flicking in agitation. 

“I brought you that coffee you requested!” Stolas said quickly, taking a cup labeled ‘Verosika’ out of the tray and handing it over to her. She accepted it with a warm smile, giving Stolas a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks, babe.”

“The fuck? Stop flirting with my boyfriend,” Blitzø said, flipping her off. “This bottom’s all mine, bitch.” Verosika rolled her eyes, taking a sip from her straw. Then she looked back at Stolas. 

“I needed this.”

“Right! How is the new album coming along?” Stolas asked, noticing the weariness in her expression.

“We’re thinking about a Sinsmas song,” she said with a shrug. “And maybe one about a friend getting kidnapped while you’re getting fucked up at a party.” Stolas scoffed. 

The night after the Queen Bee party, Stolas spending much of the next day resting while Blitzø watched over him, Verosika had stopped by his palace to apologize for not taking care of him like she promised. The apology was completely unnecessary, of course. They then proceeded to drink wine and gossip (Blitzø having gone to check in on Loona). It was something they planned to make a regular occurrence, as much as Blitzø loved to complain about it. Although Stolas knew that Blitzø didn’t actually mind. As much as Blitzø and Verosika loved to get under each other’s skin, he sensed no true malice behind it.

“Are one of the lyrics: ‘I posted stupid shit on Sinstagram’?” Blitzø asked, putting a hand on his hip while he held his tray with his other hand. “Sounds like a catchy line to me, not like you usually have many of those.” Verosika sucked on her straw, shooting him an unimpressed look.

“Trust me, there isn’t a trace of you in this song, Blitzø. That was a one-time thing.” Then she put a hand on Stolas’ arm, flashing him a smile. “Text me your schedule. We should catch up soon.”

“Yes, we must,” Stolas agreed, and with that Verosika flipped Blitzø off as she closed the door behind her, continuing to drink her latte. Blitzø let out a scoff, rolling his eyes. 

“Glad that’s over with,” he said. Tray in his hands, he opened the door to the I.M.P. offices with his tail. Then he moved aside to hold it open for Stolas, shooting him a grin. “Ready for the ol' 9 to 5?” 

“Isn’t it around 11 now?” 

“Eh, maybe,” Blitzø said with a shrug. “But my sexy intern can show up whenever he wants. Especially when he’s bringing coffee,” he said with a wink. Stolas giggled and walked through the open door. 

“9 to 5 is also the title of a musical in the living world,” he said. Blitzø raised a brow. 

“Sounds like a boring fucking muscial.”

“They do try to get revenge on their boss,” Stolas offered. “That is a pretty exciting aspect.” Blitzø followed behind him, closing the door and swatting Stolas’ thigh playfully with his tail.

“Don’t give Moxxie any ideas,” he warned. 

“Morning Stolas!” Moxxie called out, sitting at his desk. He was cleaning one of his guns with a red handkerchief. Loona was sitting at her own desk, Ocatvia sitting on top of it. Millie was over there as well, hands on her hips as she stood and chatted with them. 

“Hiya Stolas!” Millie said, giving him a wave. “Heard you two enjoyed that musical!” 

“Hello, Millie,” Stolas said, smiling warmly at her. “I heard that you two enjoyed…um, stabbing things.” Millie grinned further. 

“Your daughter’s a natural killer!” she said with enthusiasm. Via glowed from the praise. Loona was watching Stolas’ expression, smirking at him. 

“Hmm, yes. What every father loves to hear,” he said, smile faltering. 

“Blitzø loves that I’m a natural killer,” Loona offered. Stolas knew that she was teasing him. He scoffed, shooting her a look that she returned with a grin. 

“Yes I do, Loonie,” Blitzø said, placing his tray of coffees down on Loona’s desk. “I love everything about you.” Loona rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “And I would fucking destroy anyone or anything that hurt you.” He paused, picking up his iced coffee and pointing it at her. “And I worry. Comes with being a dad. Right, Stols?” Stolas’ expression softened. 

“Yes,” he agreed, giving him an appreciative smile. “Comes with being a partner, too.” Blitzø turned to look at him, his gaze soft as well. Then something devilish flashed across his expression. He opened the lid of his coffee, scooping out some of the whipped cream with his finger. Then he proceeded to lick it clean, maintaining eye contact with Stolas as he did so.

“I for one love cumming with my partner,” he said, giving Stolas a wink that made his legs feel like jello. He gripped the strap of his bag tightly. Everyone else in the room groaned.

“We are in our place of work, sir!” Moxxie reminded him, gun still in his hands. “And I thought you didn’t allow puns in the office!” Blitzø shrugged, unbothered. Then he began handing out the coffees on his tray. Stolas patted his hands against his cheeks, trying to snap out of it as he walked over to Moxxie’s desk, using magic to set down his own tray.

“Good morning, Moxxie,” he said with a friendly smile. He grabbed Moxxie’s coffee and placed it on his desk. “Apologies, they put your name down wrong again.” Moxxie sighed, setting down his gun to pick up his coffee. His eyes widened.

“Coxxie?” he read aloud, slamming his hand down on the desk, exasperated. Blitzø let out a laugh from the other side of the room.

“That’s fucking hilarious!” Moxxie shot him a glare. Then he sighed again, setting the cappuccino back down on his desk.

“Eh, it’s fine. I’m used to it at this point,” he said, looking back up at Stolas. “Thanks for grabbing it.”

“Of course. It was quite fun,” Stolas said. “And it is one of the typical duties of an unpaid intern, yes?” 

“We don’t actually know what an intern is supposed to do,” Moxxie answered honestly, rubbing the back of his neck. “And we appreciate the help, Stolas - we definitely need it, clearly - but you know you don’t have to do any of this, right…?”

“I was the one who came to Blitzø with the request, not the other way around.” Stolas assured him. “I feel that it is important to know more about this whole job thing that other demons do. And it’s not like I need the money,” he said with a laugh. “And, as you know, I enjoy doing paperwork.” 

“Sounds like the musical last night made you feel inspired, huh?” Moxxie said with a grin. Stolas laughed.

“Of course! A human learning how to succeed in business by following the advice of a book! Do you think businesses in the living world are really like that?” Moxxie shrugged.

“Dunno. They seem to love coffee as much as we do, though,” he offered, reaching to grab his cup and taking a sip. Stolas watched him nervously, wondering if he would be able to taste the difference, but Moxxie grinned and took another long sip. “This is great! Exactly how I like it!” Stolas couldn’t help but look over at Loona, who was already watching them. She shot him a look. Stolas hid his smile behind his hand. Then he furrowed his brow thoughtfully. He wondered if Loona was right, and Moxxie would actually dislike coffee made with the Neapolitan coffee maker. Before he could think too deeply on it, he felt a hand slip into his.

“C’mere,” Blitzø said softly, leading them towards his private office. Stolas quickly grabbed his own coffee - a hot americano - and let himself be led. His heartbeat couldn’t help but quicken in anticipation as he thought back to what Verosika said about desks and closed doors. Soon Stolas was standing in the middle of Blitzø’s office, Blitzø indeed closing the door behind them. He watched as Blitzø hurriedly organized some papers on his desk, and then pointed to his chair. “Take a seat,” he said, pulling the chair out for Stolas. Stolas moved to sit down, seeing the assortment of papers on Blitzø’s desk. 

“Is this what you’d like for me to work on today?” Stolas asked, setting down his coffee and reaching towards the papers, but Blitzø quickly sat on top of his desk, moving to hold Stolas’ hands instead.

“That’d be great if you wanna kill time, but right now there’s something else your boss wants,” he said, a hungry glint in his eyes. He hooked his boot under Stolas’ chair, bringing it forward as he pulled him in for a kiss, cupping Stolas’ face gently with his hands. Stolas’ eyes fell closed, kissing Blitzø back as easy as breathing, resting his hands on Blitzø’s thighs. Blitzø began to tug at the feathers at the back of his head, and Stolas opened his mouth in response, feeling Blitzø’s tongue slide against his own, their hot breaths mingling.

“Hah, Blitzø,” Stolas panted between kisses. “I really cannot take this anymore.” He could feel Blitzø’s grin against his mouth, and then felt his hand wrap around his neck, applying a wonderful amount of pressure. Blitzø continued to kiss him, slow and sweet, until he finally took a pause, resting his forehead against Stolas’.

“Think you’re at 95%?” Blitzø asked, trying and failing to use an innocent tone. Part of the failure stemmed from the way he began kissing Stolas’ neck as he waited for his reply.

“110%,” Stolas said, sliding his chair closer until it bumped into the desk. He wrapped his arms around him, gasping when Blitzø decided to bite him. “I could run a fucking marathon right now.” Blitzø chuckled, the sound raw and gravelly in Stolas’ ear. He slid a hand under Stolas’ sweater.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, putting his hand in the fluff of Stolas’ chest and pulling. Stolas let out a moan that he quickly muffled by pressing his mouth against the crook of Blitzø’s neck. Blitzø chuckled again. “Getting a little loud, aren’t ya birdie?” 

“Only for you my love,” Stolas said breathlessly, pulling away to look at Blitzø with a half-lidded gaze. He watched Blitzø’s eyes widen slightly, and then watched him grin, moving to kiss Stolas again as he maneuvered himself to stand on the chair, using his feet to push Stolas’ thighs apart. Stolas closed his eyes as they kissed, feeling the hand that was on his chest begin to slide downwards. Yes. Finally. Stolas thought to himself. But then that hand stopped just as it reached the button on his pants, moving to rest on his back instead. “No!” Stolas protested, eyes blowing wide as he looked at Blitzø. “Why did you stop?” he whined. Blitzø almost looked guilty. 

“I really need to leave for this job. The one I mentioned before,” Blitzø explained, wincing as he looked at Stolas’ expression. “But I couldn’t not try to fit in a steamy make-out sesh before I left. I mean, look at you!” Stolas shook his head.

“I don’t look any different than I -”

“Exactly!” Blitzø said, removing his hands from Stolas so that he could gesture at him, as if to emphasize his point. “You’re so fucking hot I can’t stand it!” Stolas scoffed.

“You’re just trying to flatter me so that I forgive you for edging me right before you leave,” Stolas protested. Blitzø looked at him in confusion. 

“Wow, you really don’t…” he said, shaking his head. “Shit, Stols. I’m gonna have to think of ways to convince you of how hot you are while I go shoot some people. We're still on for tonight, right?”

“Ozzie’s. 6pm,” Stolas said. Blitzø nodded, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Gold star. I have a feeling this job is gonna be fucking annoying, so I’ll meet you there, ‘kay? Fizz promised to take good care of you in case you get there before me.” Stolas laughed.

“You better hurry back, then. Who knows what wild ideas Fizz will come up with to keep me entertained. On one occasion he offered to set up a ‘star-studded’ threesome for me if I ever grow tired of you, as if that would ever happen.”

“Please tell me he wasn’t referring to him and Ozzie,” Blitzø said, brows raised. Stolas gave him a smirk. 

“He never specified.” 

“How dare that fucker only offer if I’m not involved!” Blitzø said, clenching his hands into fists. “I’ll keep that in mind, Stols. I’ll rush over,” he added seriously. Stolas put his hands on Blitzø’s chest, adjusting the lapels of his coat.

“Arrive whenever you’re ready, my love. I’m happy to wait for you.” Blitzø put a hand on Stolas’ cheek.

“I’ll reward you for your patience,” he said, giving him a wink.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Stolas teased back. Then he looked past Blitzø at all the stacks of papers that needed organizing. “Speaking of rewards…I don’t need any monetary payment for my work here, given that I’m an unpaid intern and I’m incredibly rich,” he looked back at Blitzø, a renewed fire in his gaze. He ran a talon down Blitzø’s chest. “But your ‘sexy intern’ wouldn’t say no to other forms of compensation.”

“You’re making it really fucking hard to leave, Stols,” Blitzø scolded, that hunger back in his eyes. Stolas continued to draw circles on Blitzø’s chest with his talon, batting his eyes at him.

“Consider it my revenge,” he said. Then he reached into the bag on his shoulder, pulling out his grimoire and pressing it gently against Blitzø’s chest. “This is being given free of charge, to be clear.” He hesitated, feeling a nudge of anxiety as he thought about what he’d just said. Compensation. Payment. Rewards. “Truly, I give everything to you freely, Blitzø. I do not expect anything -” he began to explain, shaking his head. Blitzø rubbed his thumb against Stolas’ cheek.

“I know,” he said softly. “Ozzie said my crystal should be ready to go soon, so I won’t have to keep borrowing this. Sorry 'bout that.” Stolas glanced down at Blitzø’s wrist. Only a sliver of a crack remained on the crystal’s glowing surface.

“What’s mine is yours, Blitzø,” Stolas said sincerely, meeting his gaze once more. “It truly does not preoccupy me.” Blitzø gave him another kiss, a chaste one this time, although even that simple action left Stolas wanting. 

“Thanks, Stols. Ditto.” He hopped off the chair, making his way to the door with the grimoire tucked under his arm. “Love ya,” he said, opening the door.

“Love you too -” Stolas said back easily, taking a sip of his drink as he turned his attention to the stacks of paper, excited to get started. Then his eyes widened in realization. He choked on his coffee. “Wait!” he said between coughs, quickly standing up, but Blitzø had already closed the door behind him. He rushed over, throwing the door open to see the portal closing behind Blitzø, Moxxie, and Millie as they left for their job. 

Loona and Octavia were still at her desk, looking at Stolas with raised brows. He gave them a nervous smile. “I thought he forgot something, b-but I was mistaken,” he explained. “I shall join you two in a moment.” He closed the door, leaning against it as he looked at Blitzø’s desk with wide eyes. Did he just imagine that? He must have, surely. He put a hand on his forehead. 

“He said it so casually,” Stolas whispered to himself. “I-I must have misheard, or he said that by accident and meant to say something else,” he quickly reasoned. He took a breath, nodding his head as he moved to sit down in Blitzø’s chair again, looking at all the paperwork. “Yes, those are more logical explanations,” he told himself, picking up the page at the top of the pile that was right in front of him and inspecting it. He furrowed his brow. It was just a blank piece of paper. He looked down to see the next page in the pile, and smiled when he saw some of Blitzø’s doodles. He noticed an adorable one of himself and Blitzø holding hands, and there was another one where they appeared to be horse versions of themselves. He let out a laugh. Then he noticed a short message at the bottom of the page -

I meant it. C u l8r, Stols. 

There was a small heart at the end. Stolas looked down at it in shock for a long moment. Then he felt his whole body flush. He let go of the blank piece of paper he was holding and held his face in his hands, feeling like a teenager who had just received a love letter from his crush, something he had never experienced before.

Blitzø had meant it. He said it. Stolas began to laugh, shoulders shaking. Loona and Via probably thought he was losing his mind, but he couldn’t help it. He was giddy. He was in disbelief, and yet - of course Blitzø would confess his feelings in this way. It was incredibly endearing and silly and sweet, and only made Stolas fall for him more. He checked the time on his phone. Their date at Ozzie’s was much too far away. He longed to see Blitzø now. He let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling. 

Once again, time felt like an enormous thing outside of his control. But things were different now. Stolas was different. He wasn’t scared anymore, or lonely. Time was something precious, rather than looming, because every moment brought him new joys. He smiled to himself and began collecting the papers on Blitzø’s desk, putting them into one pile. He moved to stand, stack of papers in one arm and his coffee in his free hand, and then opened the door with magic, walking over to sit at Moxxie’s desk.

“You horny bitches totally made out in there, didn’t you,” Loona said more than asked. 

“Gross, Dad!” Octavia protested. Stolas tugged at the hem of his turtleneck, feeling embarrassed. I meant it I meant it I meant it. The message still swirled around in his mind. 

“I am assuming they left for their job?” Stolas asked, finding it hard to hide his disappointment.

“Yeah,” Loona said. Stolas slumped his shoulders. “He told me to give you this before he left,” she added, holding out a single flower. Stolas moved to stand, but then Via held out a hand.

“Let me!” she said. The room crackled with magic energy, and they all watched as the flower floated over to rest on Moxxie’s desk. Her eyes shined, clearly pleased.

“Thank you, darling,” Stolas said, just as proud. He picked up the flower, holding the stem as he inspected it. It was a red peony. He put a hand on his cheek, feeling his face begin to heat up again.

“The red ones mean love and passion, yeah?” Loona asked, leaning back in her chair as she inspected her claws. “Blitzø dragged me into some random flower shop yesterday. He asked me to transform into a human and ask about ‘flower languages’ or some shit and report back as he hid behind a pot.” Stolas let out a laugh, imagining what that must’ve looked like. 

“He just said that he loves me,” Stolas found himself confessing, a soft tone in his voice. Loona scoffed.

“Took him long enough.” 

“If he ever hurts you I know how to cut someone in half with one strike now,” Via warned. Stolas’ eyes widened. 

“Th-that will not be necessary, dearest, but I appreciate the intention.” Via nodded. Loona sighed.

“I guess if you hurt Blitzø I’d probably damage your property and post your credit card information online. But I doubt that’ll happen.”

“Only that? You must really like me,” Stolas teased. Loona flipped him off, a smile tugging at her lips as she looked out the window. 

“I was thinking about this the other day,” Fizz said, swiveling back and forth on his stool, the seat covered in dark green leather. He was stirring his drink with his straw. Stolas looked over at him with interest, resting an elbow on the plum-colored bartop. They were sitting in one of the more secluded corners of Ozzie’s, at a bar with only four seats. Chartreuse curtains hung from the ceiling, not entirely surrounding the bar, but giving them some additional privacy. There wasn’t a bartender currently attending this part of the club. It was on the early side, and the club didn’t get busy until later. So Fizz had generously offered to make the drinks himself. 

Stolas hadn’t gotten the chance to greet Asmodeus yet. According to Fizz he was busy doing ‘cool business shit’ but should be coming out soon. Asmodeus had mentioned to Stolas previously that he was making efforts to further investigate the ‘abominations’ that the Vees were brewing, still enraged that they dared to encroach on his territory. He seemed to be making excellent progress, but it was certainly not straightforward work. 

“What happened to Striker?” Fizz asked. “You keeping him as decoration somewhere?” Stolas grimaced, tapping his fingertips against the bartop.

“Lucifer, no,” he said, shaking his head. “A friend of mine agreed to hold onto him. I have a spell where I can reverse petrification, which may prove useful if I want to bring Striker to court as a witness. Or if Asmodeus would like to do so himself, as he tries to combat those overlords in Pride.” Vassago was kind enough to fulfill his request. Enthusiastic, even. It was quite bemusing how much Vassago liked him. And helpful how much Vassago hated Andrealphus. Vassago had texted Stolas a picture of Striker in what looked like a room dedicated to art. Stolas remembered laughing when he saw the mantilla that Vassago used to cover Striker’s stone face, which he remembered being twisted in an ugly, shocked expression. Fizz raised a brow.

“Think he’d actually help in court? He’s one crazy motherfucker.”

“If it would mean serving his own interests, I have a feeling he would,” Stolas said simply, reaching over to take a sip of his drink, something with honey and lemon that Fizz promised he’d like. And he wasn’t wrong. Stolas couldn’t remember the last time he drank alcohol to enjoy it. 

His drinking habits were something he’d discussed with his therapist. Together they had set a goal to drink a bit more responsibly, and consider the intention behind his desire to drink. He used to drink as a means of escape, but he’d come to realize that there was nothing he was running from anymore. 

“I still think it’s fucking funny that I taught you all those self-defense moves when you could do that,” Fizz said with a grin.

“Better to be overprepared than underprepared, as we discussed,” Stolas pointed out. He looked down at the pale yellow liquid in his glass, swirling it slightly. “I get the sense that Striker had become so used to me being helpless that he’d completely forgotten I had magic.”

“Not sure if I blame him. You’re a lot stronger than you look. No offense.” 

“None taken,” Stolas said with an easy smile, looking up at him. Then he watched in surprise as Fizz leaned forward, a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes.

“Have you taken any of my advice about…bedroom activities, ” he began, waggling his eyebrows, “at least?” Stolas cleared his throat nervously while Fizz leaned back and took a sip of his drink, tracking his expression. Before Stolas could respond Fizz slammed his drink down on the bartop, jaw hanging open. “You two haven’t fucked yet?” 

“Fizz!” Stolas pleaded, looking around the club although no one was within ear shot, and the demons closest to them were paying them absolutely no attention.

“Shit, Stolas. We’re at Ozzie’s! This is the perfect place to talk about this!” Fizz protested. He extended an arm, putting it on Stolas’ shoulder. “Talk to me, buddy. I have a PhD in sexual chemistry,” he joked, giving him a wink. Stolas let out a surprised laugh, shaking his head. Then he took another sip of his drink and set it down, feeling the pleasant sourness hit his throat.  

“At first I was recovering, and then I had to attend court to make sure that Stella and Andrealphus would stop meddling in our life, and then I began going to therapy, and making changes to the palace, and spending more time with Octavia as well as these new friends that I have made -” Stolas nodded at Fizz, him being one of those friends. They had hung out a handful of times the past few weeks. “I suppose we just haven’t had the time. He’s been busy with work himself. But it also seems as though Blitzø has been waiting for something, still, although I do not know what that something is…”

“Blitzø is usually impulsive as shit, so that’s a first,” Fizz observed. Stolas sighed.

“I do not want to pressure him. I certainly do not want our first time together after…all of that , the emotional turbulence of the past few months, since that full moon - before that, really -” Stolas tried to explain, twining his fingers together nervously as he rested them on the bartop, facing forwards. Fizz’s hand was still on his shoulder, tracking his expression and listening patiently. Stolas took a breath. “I don’t want to fuck it up and rush things if he’s not ready. But I also want him terribly . You should’ve seen what we did in his office earlier today. And he told me -” Stolas paused. He felt too embarrassed to say that part out loud. Part of him still questioned whether he had even heard Blitzø correctly. “He basically seduced me and then portaled away because he had a job.” Fizz laughed.

“Why do I have a feeling that Blitzø would be saying a lot of the same things if I was having this convo with him instead of you?” Stolas looked over at him with interest, seeing his raised brow. He made a fair point. 

“A part of me hopes that…well, tonight…” Stolas found himself confessing, but his face began to heat up in embarrassment. Fizz took his hand off of Stolas’ shoulder, seeming to notice something across the room.

“All I can say for sure is that if you two don’t end up fucking tonight Ozzie will be pissed. This isn’t the place for romantic dating and ‘taking things slow’,” Fizz said, faking a gag. Then he hopped off his stool, Stolas looking down at him in surprise. “Either way, looks like you’re about to find out what the vibe is. Hope you get that dick you want,” he said with a wink. Before Stolas could respond, Fizz sauntered away. “Nice job, you two!” he said to a couple sloppily making out at one of the tables, shooting a finger gun at them before making his way to the back, probably to find Asmodeus. 

“Hey there, stranger,” Blitzø said, a seductive quality to his voice. Stolas quickly turned his stool to see Blitzø sitting next to him, on the left side of him while Fizz had been on the right. He was wearing a black leather jacket, a dark red shirt, and black leather pants. 

Stolas had changed as well, feeling a desire to dress up a bit. He was wearing a white button-up shirt and a cobalt blue vest with dark gray slacks. He’d rolled up his sleeves at the elbows, having felt overheated - from the alcohol or the anticipation he was not certain. Not from a curse, thankfully. He had left his hat at home, as he did this morning. He found himself doing that more often. He’d also fastened the red peony that Blitzø had left him on his lapel. He noticed the way Blitzø glanced down at it now in surprise, a please smile tugging at his lips. 

He smiled warmly at Blitzø, watching as he set his drink down, something amber-colored with an orange peel, on the bartop. His stool has been raised slightly higher than Stolas’, so they were at eye-level, much like he had been with Fizz.

“Why hello there, handsome,” Stolas practically crooned, batting his eyes at him. He felt a tug of satisfaction to see Blitzø falter for a moment. Then he watched as Blitzø regained his familiar bravado, a confident smirk on his lips as he looked Stolas over, taking his time. Stolas felt both nervous and giddy under such attention.

“What brings a pretty thing like you to Ozzie’s?” Blitzø finally asked, taking a sip of his drink. He didn’t tear his eyes away from Stolas for a moment. Ah. Stolas bit back his smile, amused. So this is what they were doing. He let out a dramatic sigh, looking behind him at the parts of the club he could see between the vibrantly green curtains.

“I have been waiting for my incredibly attractive, hardworking boyfriend, but it appears that he has stood me up.”

“Damn,” Blitzø said, suppressing a grin. “Sounds like an idiot to me, keeping someone like you waiting. How ‘bout I keep you entertained tonight, then?”

“At a place like Ozzie’s?” Stolas asked, looking over at him in curiosity. He lifted a hand and used his magic to slide Blitzø’s chair closer to him, so their faces were only inches apart. Stolas looked down at his lips. “The imagination runs wild as to exactly what that would entail. Just how exactly would you entertain me, stranger?” Blitzø chuckled, putting a hand on Stolas’ thigh. Then he glanced over at Stolas’ glass, which was almost empty.

“I can start by making you another drink,” he offered. Stolas smiled.

“Are you allowed behind the bar?” he asked, but Blitzø was already jumping out of his seat and sliding over the bartop, going look at the collection of bottles. He turned his back to Stolas as he began grabbing things, getting to work.

“I’m friends with the owners,” he explained over his shoulder. Stolas raised a brow.

“What a coincidence. So am I.” Blitzø turned to face him again, pouring a variety of liquids and ice into a cocktail shaker. Then he shrugged off his jacket, showing off his toned arms as he began shaking it over his shoulder, still looking at Stolas with a confident gaze, clearly noticing how Stolas’ own gaze wandered. 

“Shame we hadn’t met sooner,” he finally said, shooting Stolas a wink. “You could’ve been waiting for me instead.” 

“Hmm. Is that right? I’m not certain that I know you well enough to agree with such a claim,” Stolas mused, putting both elbows on the bartop and resting his chin on his intertwined fingers. He leaned forward. “So tell me more about yourself. What do you do for work?”

“How about you take a guess,” Blitzø suggested, pouring the contents of the shaker into a fresh glass. Stolas looked at the frothy, cranberry-colored liquid. Blitzø put his hands on his hips, looking pleased as he glanced down at it as well. “Berry tea, gin, cranberry juice, elderflower, lemon, and soda water,” he listed off, pushing the glass across the bartop towards Stolas. Stolas lifted the glass to his lips, taking a sip. His eyes widened. He held the glass out to Blitzø, waiting for him to taste it. 

They both faltered for a moment - it was such a casual gesture, and Stolas had done it without hesitation, giving away their familiarity. Stolas was reminded of what he’d promised Blitzø that morning: What’s mine is yours. He really did mean it. Blitzø’s expression was soft. Then that softness was quickly replaced by mischief, Stolas watching as Blitzø leaned forward, putting his bottom lip on the edge of the glass. Stolas tipped the glass towards him, letting him taking a sip. He found himself swiping his tongue across his own bottom lip as he watched Blitzø swallow, eyes fixated on the subtle rise and fall of his throat.

“Satan’s dickhole I made a good drink,” Blitzø said as he pulled away, seeming to impress himself. Stolas let out a surprised laugh. Then he set the glass down and moved to take Blitzø’s hand, intertwining their fingers, their hands now joined across the bartop. 

“I would have guessed you were a bartender,” Stolas considered, continuing their game, sliding his thumb back and forth across Blitzø’s as he pretended to think deeply. “You’re clearly skilled with your hands, and with arms as toned as those, and that sexy, dangerous glint in your eye…” his eyes wandered to Blitzø’s lips before meeting his gaze once more. “Perhaps, instead, you are a professional assassin?” Blitzø grinned. He let go of Stolas’ hand so that he could walk around the bartop, hopping back into his seat, their faces close once more.

“Does that scare you?” Blitzø asked. Stolas took another sip of his new drink, holding it out for Blitzø to take another sip. Again, Stolas watched the curve of his throat as he swallowed. Stolas could taste sweet and sour on his tongue, and thought about how Blitzø’s mouth probably tasted the same. He set the glass back down on the bartop. 

“I’ve had a few run-ins with assassins,” Stolas said with a shrug. “And I am beginning to wonder if my daughter would like to be one. She’s taken quite a liking to the ones she knows.”

“A daughter? I have one, too. Another thing we have in common,” Blitzø said, his hand now resting on Stolas’ hip. “Enough about me. What do you do for work, hot stuff? I’d wanna guess you’re some kinda incubus -” Stolas let out a laugh, and Blitzø furrowed his brow. “I mean it.” Stolas fought the urge to roll his eyes, choosing to lean into the warm, satisfied feeling that Blitzø’s compliments gave him instead.

“I study the stars and find prophecies.”

“Prophecies, huh?” Blitzø raised a brow. He rested his elbow on the bartop, leaning closer to Stolas, his other hand still on Stolas’ hip. “Any prophecies about me up in those stars?” He began rubbing his thumb in circles around Stolas’ hipbone, which was terribly distracting in the best way. Stolas blinked at him, finding it increasingly difficult to look away from Blitzø’s lips. He watched the spread of Blitzø’s grin, clearly reading Stolas like a book. 

“I, um, hmm,” Stolas said, the only thing occupying his mind being how much he wanted to kiss him. He knew that Blitzø was fully aware that he had Stolas right where he wanted him. It still astounded Stolas how easily Blitzø could do that, as if Stolas was putty in his hands. And yet he never found it terribly surprising at the same time. It was Blitzø. Of course Stolas couldn’t help but be taken with him - his charm, his confidence, his scintillating energy. And his vulnerable side as well, a side of him that Stolas was just beginning to learn, and oh how he loved learning -

“Seems like there’re some prophecies involving my mouth,” Blitzø observed, giving Stolas’ hip a playful pinch that made him shiver. “There’re a lot of things this mouth can do. Especially with a stunning thing like you at its mercy.” He slid his hand up Stolas’ body to play with one of the cobalt buttons on his vest. “Wonder what exactly you saw,” he continued, looking at Stolas’ chest. Then he flicked his gaze upwards to meet Stolas’ gaze, shooting him a grin. “Or what kinda future you’re hoping for. Wanna narrow down the options for me, handsome?” Stolas felt his face flush. 

“Holy fuck,” he couldn’t help but breathe, and he could tell that Blitzø almost burst out laughing. That tiny crack in Blitzø’s sexy, playful facade helped Stolas compose himself, regaining a bit more control over the situation. “Sh-should I remind you that I have a boyfriend?” he managed to say, feigning an innocent tone as he gently pulled Blitzø’s hand away. He turned to face the bartop, reaching over to take another sip of his drink, playing coy now. He saw the gleam in Blitzø’s eyes from the corner of his vision. He always did love a challenge. Then Stolas set his glass back down. “There is indeed a prophecy about you,” he finally answered, and Blitzø looked at him with interest. It didn’t look like he was expecting an actual answer.

“Tell me more,” he said, grabbing the amber-colored drink he’d brought over and swirling it casually in his hand.

“I found this future in the stars recently,” Stolas said, moving to face him fully again, putting on a dramatic air that had Blitzø smirking as he went to take a sip of his drink. “The stars tell a story of trials involving heartbreak and conflict, but through those experiences you have forged something immensely strong, and although what you have now cannot undo the pain you have faced in the past, it contains within it an unbreakable promise for your future days to come.” Blitzø looked at him in curiosity, his bravado gone.

“And what's this promise?” Blitzø asked, almost shy as he took another sip. Stolas smiled at him.

“You have someone in your life who loves you immensely, and will continue to do so without exception or condition,” he answered honestly, and Blitzø choked on his drink. Stolas furrowed his brow in concern, patting his back as Blitzø moved to set his glass down on the bartop. “Too much?” he asked, breaking character for a moment, worried. Blitzø shook his head, no longer coughing. 

“It’s a damn good prophecy,” he managed to say, clearing his throat, “but I think it’s missing something.” Stolas tilted his head in curiosity.

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” Blitzø said. He looked at Stolas for a lingering moment, a small smile on his lips, and then he put a hand on Stolas’ cheek. “That I love him in the same way. Shit, maybe more. I’m competitive as fuck.” Stolas blinked at him in surprise. Then he began to feel flustered all of a sudden, much like he did when he read the note on Blitzø’s desk. He really hadn’t misheard, had he? He covered the hand Blitzø had placed so lovingly on his cheek with his own, smiling back and feeling the shine of tears in his eyes. 

“Oh Blitzø -” he began, overcome with emotion.

“Are these a couple of sappy lovebirds I see?” Asmodeus asked, looming over them with his hands on his hips, eyes narrowed. They broke apart in surprise, looking up at Asmodeus. 

“Asmodeus! H-hello! Did you, um, hear all of that?” Stolas asked, swallowing dryly as embarrassment further warmed his cheeks. Asmodeus put a hand on his hip, rolling his eyes. 

“I hear everything in his club,” he said. “And what I just heard were a bunch of sweet nothings and some tooth-rotting confessions.” He gagged. “You’re worse than your employees, Blitzø -”

“Hey! That’s a low fucking blow, Ozz,” Blitzø said, pointing up at him. “And I know you and Fizz can get just as bad behind closed doors.” Stolas watched as the flames on Asmodeus’ head burned more intensely. 

“Yeah, behind closed doors. Not in my place of business!” He crossed his arms. “I have a reputation to uphold, Blitzø. The last thing I need are lovey-dovey couples overrunning my club and throwing off the energy,” he whispered angrily, leaning down to get in their faces.

“Okay, fine. Maybe we are ‘lovey-dovey’, but it’s also stupidly obvious that I wanna fuck him so fucking bad right now!” Blitzø said, pointing at Stolas but still looking at Asmodeus in defiance. “And believe me, I plan to ruin this prince’s feathered ass the moment I take him back to my place -” Stolas’ eyes widened. 

He quickly downed the rest of his drink, pulled out some money and placed it on the bartop, and then opened a portal to Blitzø’s apartment. Blitzø looked at the portal in surprise but Stolas scooped him up before he could get another word in, using magic to grab his leather jacket. Asmodeus began to laugh.

“You two lovebirds have fun,” he said, straightening his stance and waving his fingers at them. He gave Stolas a wink, his anger from earlier gone as if it was never there in the first place. Stolas had a feeling it had been an act from the start. He gave Asmodeus an appreciative smile before whisking Blitzø through the portal, now standing in the middle of his apartment. The portal closed behind them. The lights were off, so the room was dim.

“Crazy that you know where I live, since I just met you,” Blitzø teased, looking up at him. Stolas used his magic to put Blitzø’s leather jacket on the beanbag chair, and then set Blitzø down on the couch, moving to sit on top of him. Now Blitzø was looking up at him with wide, maybe even reverant eyes, pushing himself up to lean against the arm of the couch and resting his hands on Stolas’ hips. 

“What you said to Asmodeus,” Stolas said, a little breathless now as he tugged on Blitzø’s shirt, needing something to do with his hands. “Was that a promise? Or a prophecy of your own, perhaps?” Blitzø’s eyes flickered dangerously.

“A promise. Prophecies are great and all, but I decide my own future,” he replied, a smirk on his lips. “And I think it’s pretty fucking clear what I want, yeah -?” Stolas’ mouth was immediately on his. 

Blitzø’s lips parted easily, allowing Stolas to slip his tongue inside. He shivered from the welcome scratch of claws against his scalp as Blitzø dug his fingers into his head feathers, drawing him in closer, pushing himself upwards.

“You smell nice,” Blitzø said, beginning to unbutton Stolas’ vest. “Like flowers.” He removed the peony from Stolas’ lapel, twirling it between his fingers as he looked up at him. “Is this the culprit, or did you sneak in some gardening today?” Stolas undid the remaining buttons, shrugging off his vest and letting it fall to the floor. Blitzø set the peony down next to it.

“Gold star,” Stolas said, echoing what Blitzø had told him earlier that day. “I did do some gardening today. Is a good sense of smell another skill only professional assassins have?” He slipped his hands under Blitzø’s shirt, feeling the muscle under his fingertips as he dragged his hands up and down. It was feeling he was quite familiar with, but could never get enough of. Blitzø chuckled.

“Only the best assassins,” he answered. Blitzø’s hands returned to Stolas’ hips, and then he was flipped onto his back, Blitzø straddling him now. He looked up at Blitzø in surprise, resting his feet on the arm at the other end of the couch, bending his legs. “But your smell’s the only one I really give a fuck about.” 

“What’s so interesting about my smell?” he couldn’t help but ask, curious. Blitzø began to kiss his neck, trailing a hand down his torso. Stolas caught the side of his smirk.

“Makes me wanna do shit like this,” he said, sinking his teeth in and causing Stolas to let out a moan.

“Blitzø,” Stolas said airily, eyes falling closed as he wrapped his arms around him, Blitzø going back to kissing his neck.

“You’re so hot, Stols,” Blitzø said between kisses, “your long legs,” he wrapped his tail around one of Stolas’ thighs, “your gorgeous eyes, your sexy smile, the pretty laugh you make at my incredible jokes when nobody else does, these thighs I really want to put my face between later -” Stolas covered his mouth with his hand to stifle his moan this time, not wanting to disturb the neighbors. 

Blitzø stopped kissing and biting him, and Stolas opened his eyes to see Blitzø frowning at him. “Hey now, none of that bullshit when I’m doing some of my best work here,” he protested, removing Stolas’ hand from his mouth and intertwining their fingers, placing their hands on the arm of the couch above Stolas’ head. Blitzø smiled down at him, that dangerous glint in his eyes. “I wanna hear you sing, birdie.” He latched onto Stolas’ neck again, moving his tail so that the tip of it was drawing shapes between Stolas’ thighs, clearly teasing him. 

“Lucifer,” Stolas breathed. He began to let out stuttered gasps, finding it hard to form coherent thoughts, let alone coherent words. 

“Careful. I only wanna hear my name come out of that pretty mouth of yours,” Blitzø warned, using his free hand to start undoing Stolas’ button-up, his other hand keeping Stolas’ hand pinned to the arm of the couch.

“Will you punish me if you don’t?” Stolas asked, half-lidded eyes drifting up to the ceiling as Blitzø continued to kiss his neck. He was entirely pliant under his touch. Fuck. They had only just begun. Blitzø let out a laugh, low and gruff and unbelievably sexy.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he said, and Stolas could feel his teeth graze his neck. He quickly grabbed Stolas’ other hand, now pinning both wrists on the arm of the couch with one of his hands. He placed his other hand on the fluff of Stolas’ chest, shirt now unbuttoned and untucked, and gave his feathers a twist that had Stolas arching his back. 

“Please, Blitzø. I need you,” Stolas was begging now, too full of desire to provide any more bratty remarks.

“I know what you need,” Blitzø said, all confidence and authority, “and we have all night to make sure those needs are fully met.” Stolas tried moving upwards to capture Blitzø’s lips, but Blitzø pushed him back down, grinning. Stolas let out a frustrated huff. He knew that he could easily free his wrists from Blitzø’s hold, but as impatient as he was, he didn’t want to. Blitzø was just too fucking attractive like this, and he’d happily give over his control to witness such a display. “Sound good to you?” Blitzø asked, and Stolas felt him loosen the grip on his wrists slightly. It was a sincere question. He wanted to make sure that Stolas was okay with this. Warmth bloomed in Stolas’ chest - the not-curse-related, romantic kind. 

“Yes, my love. That sounds wonderful. I want to savor every moment,” he agreed, although he couldn’t resist trapping the tip of Blitzø’s tail between his knees, slowly rubbing them together and smirking when Blitzø let out a surprised moan, throwing his head back. He managed to pull the tip of his tail free, shooting Stolas an incredulous look before a grin spread across his face. 

“Yeah I’ll definitely be punishing you tonight,” he said, moving to kiss Stolas, a desperate collision of tongues and teeth. How Stolas had missed this - the two of them and hours at their disposal - and yet, this wasn’t quite the same as it was before. The anxiety and self-loathing that had always been present at the back of Stolas’ mind, no matter how blissed out he felt, was no longer there. 

He could only assume that Blitzø’s mentality had changed as well, now that he clearly knew everything in Stolas’ heart, and he was no longer acting under the parameters of a contract. Blitzø’s tail began to gently scrape along the apex of Stolas’ thigh and he let out another wanton moan, gripping Blitzø more tightly. And to do all of this under the stars -

Wait.

“H-hold on a moment,” Stolas managed to say, letting go of Blitzø and pushing himself upwards. He rested his upper back against the arm of the couch, still looking up at the ceiling. Blitzø pulled away.

“You okay? This payback for me cutting short our little makeout sesh in my office? Or am I doing that good of a job that you wanted to tell me about it?” he asked playfully, swatting Stolas’ thigh with his tail before letting it hover in the air. He moved to sit down more fully in Stolas’ lap, placing his hands on either side of Stolas’ torso and waiting for him to explain, amusement and curiosity in the raise of his brows. Then his smile faltered, anxiety in his expression. “Shit. Did I do something wrong -?” Stolas placed a hand on his cheek.

“No. Believe me, you were doing everything right,” Stolas assured him. He removed his hand to point upwards at the ceiling. “When did you do this?” Blitzø looked up, understanding and relief in his expression as he looked at the collection of glowing yellow stars that were stuck to the ceiling. There must have been at least a hundred up there, likely more. He moved to lay next to Stolas, and Stolas shifted downwards and closer to the back of the couch, giving him more room. Their bodies were pressed together as they both looked up, now laying side by side, Stolas legs hanging off the side of the couch. 

“Ha. Pretty fucking cool, huh? I did this before meeting you at Ozzie’s,” Blitzø explained, tucking an arm under his head, a pleased smile on his lips. He looked over at Stolas. “You like it?” Stolas placed his hands on his stomach, smiling as well.

“What was that thing you said? Something about being ‘too much imp to simp’?” he couldn’t help but tease. Blitzø laughed, pinching his side playfully and making Stolas giggle. “I love it, Blitzø. It is - you are - incredible.” Then he noticed that a few of the stars weren’t yellow. “Oh! That must be Albireo A!” He pointed up at the cluster of three stars - one golden red, one blue, and one pure red. He glanced over at where he’d discarded his blue vest, and then looked over at the red shirt that Blitzø was, regretfully, still wearing. He hoped to amend that soon. Then his gaze dragged upwards, looking at Blitzø’s profile. “You know, I believe that you are the golden red star, Blitzø,” he confessed quietly, as if they were children exchanging secrets in the dark, not wanting to go to sleep quite yet. “You have always shined so brilliantly. I noticed that the first moment we met, all those years ago.” 

“Pretty sure you saw something in me that I sure as fuck didn’t see,” Blitzø said just as quietly, gaze sliding away as he offered a secret of his own. Then he looked over at Stolas, meeting his gaze with a smile. In perfect sync, they reached for each other, holding hands. “Thanks, Stols.” He paused, the sincerity in his smile becoming more playful. “There’re two other stars I stuck up there. See if you can spot ‘em.” Curiosity piqued, Stolas looked back up at the ceiling, eyes trailing over the clusters of stars. The rest of them were a yellow color, so nothing obvious stood out. He furrowed his brow. Then he noticed that some of the stars formed a clustered band across part of the ceiling. His eyes widened in recognition. 

“Is that the Milky Way?” Stolas asked, and Blitzø nodded, but his expression suggested there was something more. “Oh!” he realized, searching for some indication of Vega and Altair on either sides of the band of glowing stars. 

“Need a hint?” Blitzø asked, giving Stolas’ hand a squeeze. Stolas nodded, still searching. 

“Yes, please.”

“It’s the, uh… seventh night of the seventh moon,” Blitzø said, a little uncertain at first, as if he was trying to remember something he’d rehearsed. Stolas looked at him in confusion, and then his chest warmed in understanding. 

“So they are together,” Stolas said, and Blitzø nodded, a grin spreading across his lips. He reached out with his free hand to hold Stolas’ chin, directing his gaze to a pair of stars that had overlapping points, as if the stars were holding hands. 

“They’re 100% about to fuck, to be clear,” Blitzø said. “You don’t go through all that waiting and not fuck on your only night together, Stols. That’s a hill you can bet your tight ass I’ll die on.” Stolas began to laugh, shoulders shaking.

“You are entirely correct,” he agreed, laughter still bubbling out him. “I take back what I said before.” Blitzø grinned at him, and then his smile fell, his expression more serious now. Stolas looked at him in curiosity, wondering what caused his sudden shift in mood.

“Speaking of waiting,” he said. He moved to face him, and Stolas turned to face him as well, bending his legs so that they would fit on the couch. Blitzø rested a hand on his waist, his tail wrapping around his thigh, but Stolas had a feeling that whatever he was about to say had nothing to do with the carnal subject they were just discussing. “I’m shit with words. You know that.” Blitzø began. “I usually say the wrong thing, or think whatever I planned to say is too stupid or cringey as fuck and bail…” he paused, furrowing his brow, clearly nervous. “I’ve been wanting to say this for a while. Satan, I almost did the night we cured you…but I wanted to do it right. I wanted to do it the way you deserve. I didn’t want any part of you to…to question how I feel…and shit, maybe I already fucked it up earlier today, but I wanted to try it out before saying it properly tonight. But I was probably being a dumbass, especially since I ran away after -” Stolas noticed that he was trembling slightly, and shifted closer to him, cradling Blitzø’s face with his hands.

“My love, you do not need to perform some grand gesture, or say everything perfectly,” he assured him. “And you are wonderful with your words. They saved me from that curse, did they not? Even more than that, you are so good at showing how you feel. I mean,” he nodded up at the ceiling, “I never expected you to remember those stories that I rambled on about, and yet you did that and more. That is what matters to me.” He paused, feeling a twinge of sadness. “I have never had someone put in so much effort for me. Someone who has made me feel so…so taken care of, has made me feel so worth caring about -”

“I just wanna do good job, and keep doing a good job, ‘cause you deserve it,” Blitzø said in a rush, a note of panic in his tone. “I feel like I’m always so close to fucking it up. And I can always do better -” Stolas frowned. 

“Let me be clear, darling. I do not love you because of what you do for me. I love you because,” he let out a breathless laugh, “because you are you. It is that simple. Like I said - there are no conditions tied to my love for you.”

“This is what I’m talking about!” Blitzø said, the glowing stars above them revealing the shine of frustrated tears in his eyes. “You’re so much fucking better at words.” Stolas scoffed, still holding Blitzø’s face in his hands. 

“But what good are words without feeling? Without direction?” Stolas pointed out, shaking his head slightly. “I would much prefer hearing something clumsy and true than prettily said but empty.” 

“Well, then at least know I’m being fucking honest when I say this,” Blitzø said, taking Stolas’ hands away from his face to hold them, never breaking their eye contact. “I love you, Stols. It’s scary as shit to say, and I’m trying not to freak the fuck out and jump off my fire escape,” he said. “But I mean it. I’ve never felt like this before. You make me crazy,” he confessed, letting out a laugh. “And I wanna feel this kind of crazy for however long my sorry ass has left.” Stolas searched his expression, drinking him in. He would have been okay waiting an eternity for Blitzø to say those words. He would have accepted never hearing those words at all, as long as Blitzø was happy. But what bliss it was to live in a reality where he was lucky enough to hear them. 

“Me too,” Stolas said, feeling the warmth of Blitzø’s hands in his own. And a bit of sweat, too, which he found incredibly endearing. “Although, I may start feeling the kind of crazy I would prefer not to feel if you do not pin me to this couch and fuck me right now. Loona is out with her friends, correct?” Blitzø moved them so that he was sitting on top of Stolas again, pinning Stolas’ hands above his head and grinning devilishly down at him.

“That she is, pretty bird. And Via’s at your place?” Stolas nodded. As much as Octavia enjoyed spending time with all of these new individuals in her life, she still needed her alone time every once in a while. They were both so unused to having almost constant plans. Life had become quite a whirlwind. “Then I won’t waste any more fucking time,” Blitzø promised, voice low as he let go of Stolas’ wrists, sliding down his body to stop when his face was between Stolas’ legs, which were currently bent at the knees, feet resting on the other arm of the couch. He unbuttoned Stolas’ pants and then grinned up at him, resting his hands on the inside of his thighs, gently pushing them further apart. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” Stolas said breathlessly, already gripping the couch as Blitzø went to work.

And holy fuck was Blitzø good at his job.

“Shit. I forgot we were supposed to have dinner at Ozzie’s,” Blitzø said, typing something out on his phone as he put on his pants, hopping around the couch. Stolas moved to sit up, smoothing out his headfeathers, a satisfied smile on his lips.

“We could just make something here?” he suggested. “An impromptu cooking lesson?” The palace staff had returned a few weeks ago from their vacations, immediately performing their typical tasks like nothing had changed, but Stolas didn’t feel comfortable with going back to how things were before. He wanted to learn how to do various tasks himself. Via expressed that interest as well. So they decided that the staff would work part-time while still being paid generously (Stolas possessed a staggering amount of money, especially now that Stella wasn't owed anything), and would be further compensated whenever they were willing to conduct lessons such as cooking or cleaning. 

Sometimes Blitzø would offer to teach them how to cook certain things free of charge. Together, the three of them had only started three kitchen fires so far, which was better than Stolas had been expecting. And in those cases their cooking lesson would become a helpful cleaning lesson as well, learning how to properly sweep up ash and scrub off soot. 

“Nah, I have an idea. I wanna treat you well tonight,” Blitzø said, pants now on but unbuttoned. He was still shirtless, his red shirt having been long-since discarded on the floor. Stolas smiled up at him, dragging his foot along Blitzø’s leg.

“You already have. Multiple times,” Stolas reminded him. Blitzø grinned.

“Believe me, we’re not done yet,” he promised. “But we should eat.” He held his phone up to his ear. “I’m gonna take a call on the fire escape. Be right back, big bird.” Stolas pouted.

“I’ll miss you,” he said. Blitzø placed a kiss on his forehead.

“It’ll be quick. Hey Fizz! Yeah, I have a favor to ask…” Stolas watched as he stepped out on the fire escape, closing the sliding door behind him. He felt a slight chill blow in from outside. He put on his white button-up, moving to stand. Then he used his magic to turn on the lights, looking around the now illuminated apartment. 

This was only his third time being here. His first visit had been two weeks ago, when they spent a night cuddling on the couch and watching a hilarious show about sexy ghost hunting that Blitzø liked. 

He still remembered how nervous Blitzø was to show him his apartment. He kept telling Stolas that it wasn’t much, that it was small, that it was shitty and run-down and some of his neighbors ‘sucked ass’, but Stolas tried to assure him that he did not care about any of that. He was just happy that Blitzø was willing to show him his home. 

However, there did end up being one thing that Stolas hadn’t cared for.

Fixing the collar of his button-up, he walked over to the wall covered in pictures. When he first came here, Blitzø had been crossed out of every picture in black marker. He had been tempted to ask why, but he had a feeling he already knew the answer. This was clearly not an accident. He thought about his own hallway full of partly concealed portraits. He understood what could possess someone to do that. 

But the two of them had changed so much recently, and Stolas felt that their homes should reflect that change as well. He had started with his own place. Together, he and Via pulled the gossamer fabric off of every painting that had been covered. He hadn’t been in that hallway since the night of the inferno, so when he returned he was startled to see that the portrait of himself and Stella had been destroyed. He remembered Blitzø mentioning something about a bazooka. That also explained why the door was blown open. He must have been too out of it to notice sooner. He began laughing in the hallway, throwing the painting away without hesitation. Now what remained were pictures of himself and Via. Nothing was covered or hidden away any more. 

Stolas had also made another important change to the palace. Using his grimoire, he created a new protection spell - one that allowed his loved ones and friends to enter and leave the palace freely, and magically barred Stella, Andrealphus, and Striker from entering or portaling inside. It took a significant amount of time and energy, yet another thing that had kept Stolas so busy these past three weeks, but it was well worth it. 

After the spell was put in place, Blitzø helped him take down all of the traps he’d set up. That had been more Moxxie’s request than his own, and was made shortly after one of Stolas’ plants randomly started firing a gun from its mouth at Moxxie while he was trying to find the bathroom. He had dropped by to pick up Millie after a weapons training session with Via. Stolas smiled as he remembered the way Blitzø rolled on the floor of the office laughing when he heard what happened. 

“I could’ve sworn the safety was on,” Blitzø had said, wiping away tears. 

“Gun safety is serious, sir!” Moxxie had scolded him. 

Now that all of that was sorted, Blitzø’s apartment was the next project. During Stolas’ second visit, which was about a week ago, he sneakily added pictures to the wall while Blitzø was taking a shower. One picture was of Moxxie, Millie, Loona, Via, Fizz, and Asmodeus standing around Stolas’ bed, Stolas and Blitzø cuddled together and fast asleep. Fizz was proudly holding a comically large tray of sushi in one hand that spelled out ‘FUCK U STRIKER’, his other arm extended towards the ceiling to take the picture, and someone had placed a shrimp on Blitzø’s nose. Stolas laughed to himself, still looking at the wall as he thought about the surprise on Blitzø’s face when he woke up. 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” he’d said, startling Stolas out of his slumber and waving his arms in a panic before swatting the shrimp away, it sailing through the air before plopping onto the floor. They could hear Fizz’s manical laughter from the hallway.

The next picture Stolas had put up was of his first day at the office as an intern. He was sitting in one of the chairs in the conference room. Blitzø was sitting in his lap, pretending to drink from a ‘Hell’s Best Boss’ mug, while Millie, Moxxie, and Loona were standing around the chair. Millie was on the left and Moxxie was on the right, both with huge grins on their faces. Loona was also on the left but a few steps back, her arms crossed and not looking at the camera, although anyone who knew her well enough could see the amusement in the almost imperceptable turn of her smile. Via had offered to take that picture. 

The final picture that Stolas had put up was the one he had taken in Wrath of Blitzø and the demon horse. He still loved that picture. He rested his fingertips against it, gaze drifting over the volcano in the background, the red sky, and the small, pleased smile on Blitzø’s lips. When he took the picture, he remembered thinking that this soft look was a welcome rarity, but now he was pleased to realize that it wasn’t so rare anymore. 

The pictures with Blitzø scratched out were still there, but looking at the wall now, Stolas noticed, raising his brows slightly in surprise, there were new pictures that had been put up sometime over the past week, between Stolas’ last visit and this one. 

There was a picture of Blitzø and Fizz as teens, Blitzø looking adorable in braces. A picture of Moxxie and Blitzø in front of what looked like a prison, the two of them grinning, although Moxxie’s grin looked more uncertain. There was another more recent picture of Blitzø and Millie hanging out at a bar together. Another of Loona, Blitzø, Moxxie, and Millie smushed together, the photo labeled - ‘FIRST JOB DONE’. And a picture of Loona, Via, Stolas, and Blitzø the time that Loona had joined them for one of those cooking lessons. 

“Oh right,” Stolas said with a laugh, noticing that the pan on the stove in the background was definitely on fire. He remembered taking that picture. It was the first one the four of them took together. Later, when it was just the two of them, Blitzø had mentioned the possibility of the four of them going on a trip sometime in the future. Stolas could tell that he was nervous, although he was trying his best to look casual. He told him that it was a wonderful idea, and that they should make that happen and surprise the girls. Although he did politely request that they go somewhere that wasn’t too hot. He’d had his fill of feeling overheated for a while. 

Finally, Stolas noticed a picture of Blitzø as a child, arm in arm with someone who looked a lot like him - was that his twin sister? Standing behind them both was a taller demon woman with a soft smile, a kind gaze, and long black hair. She had to be his mother. His family. 

Stolas’ heart squeezed painfully, but happiness also bloomed in his chest. He placed his fingertips over his scar, feeling the five-pointed star that still remained, but no longer pained him. Now it served as a reminder. He was still here because he was loved.

“Sneaking more pictures up there?” Blitzø asked, and Stolas turned to see Blitzø resting his hip against the kitchen table, shooting him a grin. Stolas hadn’t heard him come in. Blitzø’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw Stolas’ face. He walked over to him, moving to hold one of his hands. “You okay? I doubt I fucked you so good you’re crying just thinking about it.” Blitzø scoffed. “I’m good, but not that good,” he tried to tease, although he still looked concerned. Stolas blinked in confusion, and then realized that his eyes were blurry with tears. He quickly wiped them away with his free hand, shaking his head.

“I’m completely fine. I promise,” Stolas assured him. “It’s because I am… I’m so happy,” he explained, voice thick with meaning. Blitzø seemed to hear his sincerity, beginning to nod slowly, giving his hand a squeeze, although he still looked concerned. He began to lead Stolas to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair. Stolas moved to sit down. 

“Well prepare to be even happier, because I’m about to knock your socks off,” Blitzø said with a wink. Stolas blinked up at him.

“But I'm not wearing any socks,” he pointed out. Blitzø laughed, kissing Stolas’ cheek before moving to sit in the seat opposite him. 

“It’s an expression, Stols,” he explained.

“Oh!” Stolas said, a giggle escaping him. “Of course. What fun! So you have a plan for dinner, then?” Before Blitzø could respond, a portal opened up next to the table. Fizz stepped through, carrying two covered plates. 

“For the record, we don’t usually do take-out, so this is a one-time thing,” Fizz said firmly, glancing over at Blitzø. Then he looked over at Stolas and gave him a wink. “But we do love making exceptions for couples who were so horny at our club that they had to go home to fuck each other before they even sat down for their rezzie.” Stolas blushed furiously, realizing that he was still only wearing his button-up, and Blitzø was still only in his pants. 

“You told Asmodeus to check in on us, didn’t you?” Stolas asked, and Fizz grinned, setting the two plates with metal cloches on the table. 

“As my Nonna used to say,” Fizz began, gripping the handles of cloches, one in each hand and giving a low bow, “Eccomi e figurati farfalle!” Stolas furrowed his brow. He knew a bit of Italian, picking it up in some of the books he’d read, and something about that didn’t sound quite right. But before he could ask for a translation, Fizz pulled the cloches away to reveal two beautiful meals, plates covered in assorted meats, fish, and vegetables. He clapped his hands, letting out an excited hoot. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the delicious smells flooded his nose. 

“Thank you, Fizz,” Stolas said. “How much..?” Fizz waved him off.

“You left a thick wad of cash at the bar,” he said, shooting him a grin. “Ozzie told me you were in quite a hurry.” Stolas struggled to come up with a response, flustered while Blitzø leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head and smiling smugly. Fizz noticed Blitzø’s posture and took a step backwards through the portal, standing in what appeared to be a back room at Ozzie’s. 

“Better eat quickly. Blitzø was just telling me how much he wanted to keep fucking you and how good you taste. Whipped bitch,” he said, giving Stolas another wink. Blitzø went to grab his knife, but Fizz quickly closed the portal, laughing as he did so. 

“Don’t believe a word that dumbass ex-clown says,” Blitzø said, although he was smiling as he rolled his eyes.  

“Oh?” Stolas said, frowning and crossing his legs. “So those things weren’t true?” 

“Wait, hold on, I mean…you know. Of course you’re - obviously I wanna -” Blitzø said in a rush, suddenly flustered as he hastily set his knife back down on the table, clattering against the plate. Stolas hid his smile behind his hand, and Blitzø clocked it immediately. “You bitch,” he said with a grin, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Stolas laughed, shoulders shaking. “And just when I was thinking about offering you a full-time job.”

“Really?” Stolas asked, biting back his smirk. “Did you have such a good time fucking me that you want me in your office all day?” he teased, leaning forwards in his chair. He rested his chin on his hands, elbows on the table. “On your desk. In that high-backed, office chair of yours. By the windows. In the conference room,” Stolas listed off, batting his eyelashes at him innocently as Blitzø swallowed. He watched as Blitzø shook his head, regaining his composure. 

“I mean, fuck yeah to all of that, of course,” Blitzø said, all confidence again as he leaned forward in his chair as well. “But I also wonder…” he trailed off, and Stolas looked at him in curiosity. 

“Yes? What’s on your mind?” Blitzø sighed. Then he looked over at Stolas’ plate.

“I’ll explain, but you should eat,” he said, nodding at the plate. 

“If you eat as well,” Stolas said stubbornly. Blitzø scoffed, picking up his fork and knife and cutting into a piece of meat. He popped the piece into his mouth.

“Happy?” he said between chews. “Now you.” Stolas pulled off a piece of fish with his fork, beginning to eat as well.

“I’m listening, my love,” Stolas said, encouraging him to say what was on his mind. 

“So the job today was given by someone who wanted us to kill his boss,” Blitzø began. 

“Like 9 to 5,” Stolas offered. Blitzø let out a laugh.

“Moxxie said the same thing. I wouldn’t have had a clue what he was talking about if you hadn't mentioned it this morning,” he explained. Stolas smiled. “Anyway, the person who hired us was a dick, but somehow his boss was an even bigger dick. Apparently he made some big fuck-up at work and pinned it all on his employee, and the sucker’s life only got worse after that, while his boss got a fucking promotion.”

“Did you kill him?” Stolas asked, stabbing a piece of broccoli with his fork and putting it in his mouth, chewing. 

“Fuck yeah we did,” Blitzø said with a grin. Then his smile fell, brow furrowed once more as he looked down at his plate. “But it got me thinking. If it wasn’t for us, then that dickhead would’ve continued to live a cushy, happy life.”

“Perhaps,” Stolas agreed. “It’s like you said: people with power can be unfair, yes? And following that logic, their happiness can be unfair, too,” Blitzø lifted his gaze to look at him, a light in his eyes. 

“Exactly!” he said, and Stolas couldn’t help but feel a bit pleased. “And obviously that’s the case here in Hell, too. It’s even worse. The fact that douchebag royals can hire people to go and shoot other demons and get, let’s be real, a slap on the wrist,” he continued, an almost wild look in his eyes. “And overlords can make fucking crazy potions that anyone can get their hands on to curse any demon they want. And we still have government agents on our asses, and they’re working with those cherub freaks, now. It makes you wonder where imps like me fall, ya know? How do we get the upper hand? How can I protect all of us so we don’t end up with the shit end of the stick, like the asshole who hired us.” He looked at Stolas, and Stolas could sense his nervous energy. He wasn’t explaining all of this lightly. This had clearly been on his mind for a while, and this was more than a simple job offer. “I’d like your help figuring out what we can do to, I dunno, get the upper hand for once, I guess, if you’re up for something like that. I could really fucking use the help.” Stolas finished chewing, dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin and setting his fork down.

“That day we spent together as children…there are some details from that day that are hazy, but there is one thing that I still remember clearly.”

“Yeah?” Blitzø said, giving him an uncertain smile, still buzzing with nervous energy. 

“Your dream was to do whatever it is that you wanted to do,” Stolas said. “I remember being quite startled by the prospect. I had never been asked what I wanted from my life. It never occurred to me to even consider such a freedom. ‘What a funny idea’. That’s what I remember thinking. It was a thought I carried with me beyond that day.” He paused. “You certainly do make your own future, Blitzø,” he said, thinking back to what he said when they first arrived at the apartment only a few hours ago, “rather than wait for some prophecy to lead you. I have always admired that about you. It has made me want to do something important, too.” He could tell that Blitzø was squirming under the praise, no longer meeting his gaze as he poked the food on his plate.

Stolas decided to get up from his chair, moving to kneel next to Blitzø, their faces at eye-level now. Blitzø finally met his gaze, surprised. Stolas moved to take one of Blitzø’s hands in his own. 

“I no longer see the point in my power, my status, my wealth if I cannot use it to help the people I care about. I had been so focused on the future that I lost sight of the present.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to Blitzø’s hand. Then he chuckled. “This is my long-winded way of saying that I would love to help you, Blitzø, in any way that I can. I have undergone quite a transformation because of you, and I can only imagine what more you can accomplish.” 

Stolas was only now learning how to be a weaver of fate, while Blitzø already was one. 

“I…Thanks, Stols. I don’t know what to say,” Blitzø said, pressing Stolas’ hand to his cheek, nuzzling into it slightly. 

“How about you begin by telling me what benefits I get by being a full-time employee?” Stolas suggested, teasing. “Do I get health insurance? I read that in a book somewhere.” Blitzø laughed. 

“Fuck no,” he said. Then his expression softened. “Let’s talk about it more in my office tomorrow. I have some ideas I wanna run by you.” He smirked. “And I mean a real convo. I’m not just tryna get into your pants again.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you had multiple motives,” Stolas said with a shrug, resting a hand on Blitzø’s knee, his other hand still pressed against his cheek. He thought he heard the beginnings of a low purr. “That sounds perfect, my love. Tomorrow, then.” He watched as Blitzø’s expression changed, shifting from relaxed and happy to something dangerous and charged, making Stolas’ heart skip a beat. 

“I did have one idea I wanted to run by you tonight,” Blitzø confessed, tail flicking in what appeared to be excitement. Stolas’ brows raised in surprise.

“Of course. I would love to hear it.” Blitzø leaned over, a grin tugging at his lips. 

“After we’re done eating, how 'bout you portal us to your bedroom and we can use those toys I bought?” His voice was low and sultry in Stolas’ ear. “You know, the ones we never got around to using?” Stolas’ eyes widened, his throat dry all of a sudden. If he wasn’t already kneeling his legs would’ve wobbled. Silently, he moved to sit back in his seat, looking down at his plate. “We, uh, we don’t have to do that if you’re not up for it,” Blitzø said, laughing nervously and rubbing the back of his neck. “I just thought it could be fun, and Fizz told me about all those settings on the Dragon Driller 5000…nevermind, it was a stupid idea, shit. Forget I said that and we can just -” but before Blitzø could get another word in, Stolas grabbed his plate and opened his mouth, sliding the remaining food down his throat. He set the now empty plate down on the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist and looking at Blitzø with a determined expression. Blitzø’s mouth hung open, eyes wide. Then he began to laugh, clutching his sides. 

“I fucking love you,” he said, continuing to laugh. Stolas felt his face heat up, but he was grinning as well.

Maybe Stolas could exert some authority over time after all, because there was one thing he knew for certain: he would love Blitzø, always. Until the end of his immortal life, and beyond it to whatever it was that came next.