Chapter Text
“I guess you were just... creative.”
“Only as creative as you were flexible.”
The breath caught in Stolas’ throat, both at the innuendo and the sudden dip, suspending him beyond the railing, one leg up in the air. He should have flailed desperately to right himself in fear of falling. Instead, his stomach swooped with adrenaline and exhilaration. Instead, he felt safer in Blitzø’s strong, confident arms than he had since he didn’t know when.
Instead, the words and the feelings bubbled up and out of him in a laugh, the likes of which he didn’t even know he could produce anymore.
It was a relief. When was the last time he’d laughed at anything? When was the last time he’d laughed at anything sober. It felt almost alien, his laugh.
It sounded a bit tinny and warped to his own ears, somehow both too loud and muffled like it was far away from him.
As his body was effortlessly righted, practically floating at the slightest suggestion of Blitzø’s arms (and who knew he could lead like that, not outside of the bedroom anyway , unholy fuck) , he found himself glancing down at Blitzø’s mouth, looking softer than ever before.
And when his eyes flicked up, he caught Blitzø’s eyes making the same trip down to his beak and back again.
He felt his face heat, and knew his blush matched the one he could see on Blitzø’s.
This is it, he thought. This is the moment. Every dream, every fantasy coming to life before his eyes. Not just a com-com, but one of the corny holiday ones.
It even had all the right cast members. The Prince, the Hero. The evil snow…man. Bird.
Although…the Prince usually is the hero, and there is a damsel in distress.
Maybe it’s the other kind. Where the rich city asshole learns the meaning of life and love while the down to earth heroine, who hated him in the beginning, softens and sees the beauty inside him. Or something like that.
…yeah that sounded like them.
The point was - here he was.
This was The Moment. He didn’t even have to imagine the music. It was the perfect follow up to the kiss they shared in the heroic rescue scene from earlier. He couldn’t have written it better himself. This was everything he wanted. All he had yearned for since Blitzø came crashing back into his life.
What he’d only dared to dream about in the quietest corners of his mind for years.
It was here and it was perfect.
…But he was wrong. He felt hollowed out, like he wasn’t even all there.
As he looked into Blitzø’ eyes, wide and tender and full of…emotions Stolas couldn’t begin to name, he knew he should be feeling. Something. Anything. Or at least… more .
Because it was there. The fluttering in his tummy, the heat high on his cheeks, around his eyes and spreading around to his ears. The yawning desperate loneliness and the tiny embers of hope that were trying to flare up, even as he stood there, frozen.
And then Blitzø smiled - he really smiled, all the way into his eyes, which grew impossibly warmer as he leaned in. And before Stolas could decide how he felt, how he would react to the kiss, Blitzø' arms, strong and warm, had wrapped around him, and Blitzø’ chin was settled on his shoulder.
He stood frozen, looking up at at the full moon hanging low in the sky as Blitzø adjusted his grip, feeling numb.
And stupid. Of course Blitzø wasn’t going to kiss him.
This was exactly what he thought before. Blitzø felt guilty.
For some reason, Blitzø felt that just because Stolas had stopped him from being fucking executed , it balanced out all of the other shit. At least with their arrangement, (which he couldn’t think of without feeling sick and shaky at his disgusting behavior), he was able to provide Blitzø with something in compensation. Not that that, or his own stupid naivety, was any excuse for the…coercion at best (at worst, something he couldn’t even bear to think ). Now there was nothing.
No, it was worse than nothing. He couldn’t give him anything , he could only take.
Blitzø fed him food that he had to catch himself (and Stolas couldn’t even be grateful for). He took Stolas to get clothing to wear, going so far as to look for clothing that Stolas might like, too expensive for him to buy, spending his hard earned money and putting himself in danger when it wasn’t enough. He tried to teach him how to do the most basic things to take care of himself, despite how fucking hopeless he was at fucking everything.
He gave up his fucking bed . Every meager bit of privacy and comfort he gave or shared with Stolas.
And worst of all, his kindness.
This wasn’t the Imp that had climbed into his garden and screamed in his face. It wasn’t even the Imp that showed up on Full Moons, full of swagger and oozing sex appeal.
This Blitzø that was kind and patient and gentle with him was almost unrecognizable.
Except…he wasn’t. Stolas had seen glimpses of this Blitzø before. Mostly around his daughter and his…Mille and Moxxie. His family. Why would he waste that on the demon who kept him on a fucking leash?
But now he was. And Stolas knew he didn’t deserve it. Not any of it.
But…here he was, standing under the light of another full moon, with romantic Sinsmas music floating out from the party, with this amazing demon’s arm wrapped around him, warm and comforting.
It had to be pity. Guilt. Obligation.
…But what if it wasn’t? What if Blitzø really did mean all of it? Every moment of patience in the face of Stolas being a capricious bitch, every moment of gentle comfort when Stolas felt like he would break apart…every moment of today, every step of the dance…and saving him from death at the hands of his brother-in-law. Saving his life, defending him with his brash crudeness that Stolas so adored, kissing him mid-air and ensuring that he landed first and gently set Stolas on the ground. Like he was something to be protected, something precious. Something loved.
Have a great fucking life with him, Dad.
He felt the swooping in his stomach turn to a cold nausea, his arms leaden at his sides, and his hope turned to ashes in his mouth.
This moment with Blitzø was so sweet, and so perfect, and he hated himself.
How could he? What gave him the right to feel comfort, or safety or the most meager shred of happiness?
His chest felt hollowed out. In the space where his heart had been, there was only a fucking void – an open maw that screamed and screamed in silence.
He was disgusting. Pathetic, worthless.
And Via had been right.
Blitzø had been able to coax Stolas back inside after their dance ( god, that dance), for a little while at least. And although he wasn’t able to talk him into actually joining any of the holiday games – he did pull Stolas over to the sofa by the hand, spin him around and settle him back with the slightest suggestion of pressure on the bird's hips.
And he had folded down so gracefully, still following Blitzø’ lead, as if they never stopped dancing.
And Blitzø had just stood there for a single enchanted moment, and simply looked into Stolas’ eyes, much closer to being level with his own. And as he looked, it struck him. Those eyes that he’d long thought to be so open and expressive now looked warm and comfortingly familiar and yet strangely new with his glowing white pupils.
It was a constant reminder of Stolas’ sacrifice and newfound vulnerability. And Blitzø thought that his guilt would be clamouring the loudest in his head in response, but instead, the sight filled him with a warm pool of tenderness and the ever-growing need to protect.
His mouth quirked up into a soft smile...Aaaaand that was the moment that Moxxie’s drunken ass had stumbled right into him from behind, pitching him forward practically into Stolas’ lap, catching himself with one hand braced on the sofa back to the left of Stolas’ head and the other landing on his shoulder, one knee on the couch cushion, pressed against the outside of Stolas’ thigh, and the very tip of his right hoof touching the floor between Stolas’ legs.
The sounds of Millie containing Hurricane Moxxina, said Hurricane’s giggling, and a fair few cat calls barely registered from behind him. The adorably startled hoot and flustered expression on Stolas’ pretty face had his full attention.
Blitzø felt his own face heating but still had the ability to smirk deviously, while leaning in further to breathe “I’m gonna show these bitches how it’s done” into Stolas’s ears.
He enjoyed the sight of Stolas’s feathers ruffling up in response for another beat before whipping around and yelling, “ALRIGHT, SETTLE DOWN, SSSLUTS, and Loonie,” he gave her a winning-smile and which she returned while cheerfully flipping him off.
“Who’s ASS to I have to LICK, Loonie-Tooooooonie” he sang.
“KICK, Blitzø…it’s kick” Moxie interjected, and then dissolved back into giggles. Blitzø just slithered to a seated position, and settled in with his back against Stolas’ legs.
“Let’s fucking PLAY, bitches!” he said, showing his teeth .
~~~
The party had gone on late into the night – but by the time 2am rolled around he realized Stolas had once again slipped outside and he wasn’t sure how long ago.
Time for bed, he thought. Gotta clear these fuckers outta here.
Then he could go fetch his birdie and get him snuggled down to get some fucking sleep.
Although he winced at the thought of asking Loonie’s friends to leave…
Luckily for him, Millie had been more restrained than he’d ever seen her at a party, choosing to play Designated Domme to her lil Butt Baby, letting Mox get all drinky n’shit instead of getting fucked up herself. So when he cleared his throat and half-heartedly mumbled that it was getting late, Millie had caught his eye, looked toward the fire escape, stood up and began to corral the partiers towards the door (ultimately picking Moxxie up to carry him out).
His worry about ruining the ending to Loona’s night shifted quickly into delight and relief when she turned and shouted that she was gonna go crash with her friends .
Apparently they were going to stay with Russ so they could get “these baller ass skillets at this brunch place in Gluttony – ‘seriously they put all kinds of shit in it and I HAVE TO TRY IT!’ – called Hangover’s Bangovered” (yeah he was gonna make her take him and Stolas sometime in the future.
On her way out the door she had leaned down to hug him with a “Happy Sinsmas, Dad,” filling Blitzø’s heart with warmth. And when she asked him to tell the same to the ‘Big Bird’, he wasn’t ashamed to admit he might’ve cried a tiny bit, watching her bound out the door with a little overnight bag slung over her shoulder.
He cleaned up as much detritus as he could within 2 minutes, and made sure the couch was dry and crumb free, before turning off the overhead lights, leaving only the soft glow of Sinsmas lights strung around the room.
His stomach fluttered as he stepped out on the fire escape only for it to plummet straight through the ground.
Stolas was sitting, back slumped against the building wall. His hands rested limply in his lap. his head was tipped back against the wall.
And his eyes.
His eyes pointed upwards towards the light of the full moon, but were empty, as though more than his magic had been torn out of him. Like he was missing part of himself.
Well, of course he was, Blitzø thought. He thinks he’s lost his daughter for good.
And even though Blitzø was firm in his conviction that Stolas and his daughter’s bond was strong enough to withstand this (even though Via was a volatile teen girl) she just needed some time , nothing else could be helped tonight.
All of a sudden, Blitzø felt the weight of this extremely long day crash over him like thunder.
Bed, he thought firmly.
He didn’t have to lean down to put his hand on Stolas’ shoulder, but when there was no response, he leaned down and scooped him up in his arms and carried him back into the apartment.
After tucking him in, running his claws briefly through Stolas’ crest feathers, he crossed the room to the beanbag and collapsed.
What a fucking day, he thought. I could sleep for a week.
~~~
Spoiler alert – he didn’t sleep for a week. In fact, despite his exhaustion, Blitzø had hardly slept at all. As the pentagram sun began to rise, Blitzø’s eyes were dry and stinging, and they hurt to keep open, but he couldn’t keep them shut.
The hours had dragged on endlessly, and whenever he’d closed his eyes, he couldn’t stop picturing the way Stolas had looked sitting on the fire escape. It would have haunted his dreams, if he’d had the chance at any.
It hurt to see his precious bird so wrecked. And NOT in the fun way.
He’d been so…still, like a puppet whose strings had been cut and instead of coming to life had just collapsed in a tangle of wood on the ground.
And this wasn’t the first time.
At least now though, he knew.
Thank fucking Satan. Or… Lucifer. FUCK fucking Satan. Anyway. Thank someone , because Blitzø finally finally had something that he could do.
Happy pills. That was the answer.
Granted it wasn’t an explanation that he liked very much… but it did take some of the bewilderingly erratic behavior and put it into perspective.
Blitzø knew that he had called Stolas a pompous rich asshole on more than one occasion (and even directly to his fucking face), but he had never actually deserved it.
Blitzø had never seen him like this .
In fact the difference was so shocking, it was like two completely different people. And the new guy, who Blitzø had never met and frankly didn’t know what to do with, popped out with no warning, like an infester demon was playing pop goes the fuckin weasel.
If anything, all it did was highlight the fact that Stolas had always been… perhaps naïve, sheltered and ignorant about a lot of things but he had also always been kind.
But now…it was fucking scaring him. The things coming out of his mouth. The histrionics between longer periods of melancholic silence.
Of course, Blitzø knew he was fucking depressed. Anyone would be in his circumstances.
But on top of that, to be suddenly cut off from a prescribed antidepressant… Blitzø actually felt lucky it hadn’t been worse.
And thank Sa- Lucifer , Blitzø was sooo grateful to his precious family for their continuing kindness and patience with Stolas. And the faith and loyalty to him that showed.
And if he thought it was bad before… well. Even with everything that had happened today.
Now he knew . One step at a time - and step one was getting Stolas a steady supply of his meds.
He could do it. He would do whatever it takes to keep his bird’s head above water.
…try not to inhale the water.
The image of Stolas faced down in the bath water flashed through his mind, his feeble joke taking on an even darker edge.
And that was nothing, nothing compared to the suicidal fucking trek to the Ice Queen’s fucking lair, alone, to see his daughter.
Fuck. If he hadn’t shown up when he did. If he hadn’t known exactly where to look… he shuddered.
Well. Blitzø had gotten there in time.
His mind flashed to him sitting on Stolas’ lap, feeling so cold despite the heated rocks in his stomach. Wanting so much to to warm up his bird, to offer him comfort, to show him that he isn’t alone.
And feeling so helpless.
Knowing that any attempt to tell him that it would be okay (the way he had been trying to do since the trial), would ring so hollow in the wake of Via’s words.
The only thing he could offer was his presence on Stolas’ lap and then at his side, and then… a respectful 2 feet away on the sofa, his stomach clenching in helpless anxiety, feeling like a fucking failure.
But now. He knew what to do. He had already texted Fizz to enlist the influence of his sugar birdie to ensure Stolas wouldn’t go another day without his meds.
It was easy to ask for help when it was for Stolas.
Fizz had responded almost immediately.
And after getting a fucking novel-length message calling Blitzø a fucking idiot for almost dying again , came the text:
Oz will get ur prince w/e he fuckin needs (if he knows what's gud for him).
I just got u back u selfish fuckin prick so STOP almost dying.
Luv u 2 fzz
So that was that sorted. And until the first prescription arrived Blitzø had the bottle that Via had thrust into Stolas’ hands. Which Blitzø had then picked up from the ground and pocketed outside of the palace...after Stolas let it slip out of lifeless fingers. While sobbing his heart out.
Fuck.
No going back to sleep with that cheerful image (and the sounds of his bird’s wracking sobs and wails of despair) in his head.
Might as well get up, he thought, rolling silently off the beanbag chair and onto his feet with a cat-like grace.
He paused for a moment to look down on his beautiful bird, resisting the impulse to smooth out the tension between his lower set of eyes (or smooth back the feathers falling across his face or kiss his beautiful forehead).
We will make it through this, he thought . I won’t fucking let you down again.
And that means putting one fucking foot in front of the other. Just gotta keep trying, one step at a time.
So first things first - breakfast.
Stolas’ eyes opened. He felt more than heard Blitzø get up and make his way into the kitchen.
Not that it mattered – he’d been awake. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d gotten more than a few seconds of restless dozing all night.
His eyes hurt, feeling dry and achy.
Other than that he felt…nothing. Other than the gaping void of unending pain and the screams of the damned where his rib cage used to be.
…Seriously it felt like it wasn’t even there. It actually was making him feel slightly nauseated.
He flinched when Blitzø’s hand softly touched his shoulder, and he blinked up at him.
“Heyy, good morning pretty birdie,” he said with warm eyes and a soft smile that turned more playful as he said “time to wakey wakey egg–uhhhh, mice and bake…y….Fuuuck me that –” he cleared his throat, “hehmmm, anyway.”
Blitzø looked chagrinned but Stolas merely blinked at him, wondering vaguely when it had gotten so bright outside.
Blitzø’s face fell a bit, and then morphed back to determined optimism (that was much softer than his patented abrasive charm).
“Alright birdie,” Blitzø tried again. “I know yesterday was a lot, but today is a new day and we gotta start somewhere….sooo let’s get some food in you. And then we can decide what to do today. Even if it’s veg out on the sofa and watch garbage. Sound good?”
Blitzø’s face was so hopeful it pierced a bit through the fog in Stolas head. He met Blitzø’s eyes, and quickly looked away again but gave the barest hint of a nod, and started forcing his limbs to start moving.
To his surprise, moving wasn’t an impossible task which, he realized, was only because Blitzø had slipped an arm around his waist and gently taken his other hand, fluidly guiding him upright as easily as he’d spun him around on the fire escape.
He felt warmth spreading from the points of contact, as Blitzø walked with him towards the kitchen table and Stolas felt the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
A gentle thumb rubbed across the knuckles of the hand Blitzø was holding and his breath caught for just a second and…
A flash of Via’s face appeared behind his eyes, eyes full of anguish and accusation. Stolas’ stomach dropped.
He pulled his hand free and shied away from Blitzø, separating completely. His whole right side, his hips, and especially his hand, felt cold at the loss of Blitzø’ support. Almost as cold as the shards of ice spearing into his gut.
He turned quickly, took the last two steps toward the table and sat down heavily (well as heavily as possible for a hollowed-out demon, bones and otherwise). Stomach churning, he forced himself to raise his eyes from his lap and up at his plate.
He was about to attempt to lift his fork to at least pretend he was eating, when Blitzø appeared back at his side, holding out a familiar pink bottle to him.
When Stolas didn’t reach out to take it, Blitzø set it gently next to the glass of water and steaming cup of tea at his place. As he pulled away, his hand twitched towards Stolas’ as if he wanted to take it again, but he seemed to think better of it, giving Stolas a half-smile and padding over to the other side of the table where he sat down to eat his own breakfast.
Stolas looked between Blitzø and the bottle.
He had left it on the ground outside the palace, he knew he had. Right after he lost his daughter forever.
And you needed THESE! Was this my fault that you needed these?
His stomach roiled violently, and he staggered to his feet suddenly, reaching out and swiping the bottle and making for the bathroom - the only place where there was even a modicum of privacy.
Blitzø’s eyes followed him and he half rose from his chair, “wait, Stols, what’s– “
Stolas heard his own voice say something about putting them in the bathroom cabinet before he shut the door and turned the lock. He let himself slump forward over the sink, one hand on the rim and the other to the right of the mirror, bowing his head and fighting to catch his breath.
He tried to slow his breathing, and swallow the urge to throw up.
Octavia’s voices were still ringing in his head:
So does that mean you just stayed miserable because of me? Was I some fucking obligation?
He could just hear her voice, trembling with betrayal and anguish – practically see her face, wildly angry and so, so hurt . He dragged his eyes up, looked through the feathers hanging limply over his face at the purpled bruising all around his eyes and –
He gasped and bolted upright. Looking in the mirror he saw Via’s face over his right shoulder.
“ You didn't even hesitate when you got the chance to leave. You’re a fucking LIAR. You destroyed our home. My home. And you think you deserve to be happy ??” she spat at him.
Stolas choked on his spit and whirled around, reaching out “VIA my–”
But there was no one behind him. He looked around wildly, trembling and shaking violently.
Oh god, oh god , he thought. But as his body stilled and his mind went quiet and clear for the first time in he didn't know how long, a voice in his head said, “ No . I don’t.”
He slowly turned back around and looked at himself in the mirror expressionlessly, opened the cabinet, set the bottle on the middle shelf, and shut it.
It was quiet in his head as he walked back to the kitchen table like he was floating, and sat smoothly in his chair. Blitzø looked up at him with eyes full of concern.
“You okay, birdie?” he asked.
“Yes. Thank you, Blitzø.”
And he was. As much as he deserved to be. But at least now he knew what had to do, and he felt secure in his convictions.
There would be no taking of the ‘Happy Pills’. He simply didn’t deserve them. He didn’t deserve to feel anything close to resembling happy.
He would not betray his daughter further.
Blitzø flashed him a small, warm smile and gestured with his fork, “alright, glad to hear it, Stols. Let’s try and eat something, yeah?”
Stolas gave a tiny nod, and raised his own fork to his mouth, and didn’t take his eyes off of the Imp’s.
Blitzø was trying SO hard to take care of him. And even though it was surely out of some misguided sense of obligation and pity – which was fair, he was pitiable. Pitable and pathetic. But he knew that he couldn’t tell Blitzø about his decision. He’d only worry, try harder, and the last thing he wanted to do was add MORE stress onto Blitzø’ shoulders.
He wouldn’t understand, but Stolas knew he was doing the right thing. After all.
Monsters didn’t deserve to be happy.