Chapter Text
Stolas would be lying if he said he hadn't become dependent on Blitz. Not just for housing and food and a job--all of that is a given, as Blitz is perhaps the only Hellborn in all seven rings who would be willing to hire Stolas now--but also emotionally. Blitz was the one to hold his hand as he walked into this strange new world he lives in, and it is Blitz who is constantly there at his side, showing him how to use laundry machines, how to wash dishes, how to use the kettle to make his own tea. It's Blitz who conducts the mad orchestra of the Immediate Murder Professionals, and Stolas is pretty sure he would immediately lose his place in the music without him.
The unfortunate side effect is that Stolas immediately feels anxious whenever Blitz leaves.
It's ridiculous. He knows it's ridiculous. Stolas is an adult--he was a prince, for Lucifer's sake--and he should not need to cling to one demon's side to stay functional. He's already enough of a burden just by existing in Blitz's space, by taking the couch he used to sleep on, by eating the food Blitz cooks.
And yet, as soon as the front door closes behind Millie and Blitz, Stolas's hands start to shake.
It's not that he doesn't trust Moxxie. It's not even that he feels unsafe. It is entirely the fact that usually Stolas knows that if he fucks up, Blitz is there to pick up the pieces, because Stolas inevitably will say something offensive by accident, and Blitz will inevitably lighten the mood and draw attention away from it. This strange new world isn't just one of grocery shopping and laundry and work; it is also one of being around other people. Actual people, with feelings and who want to form real relationships with Stolas, not the idle gossip and judgment of high society. Stolas has spent so long hiding in the shadows that he feels a little bit like a hatchling taking their first steps.
The thing that scares Stolas is that he wants Moxxie to like him.
He wants all of them to like him, partly to ease some of the annoyance they must feel at his graceless crash landing into their lives, but also because Stolas is lonely. There is so much wrong with his life, but he has the opportunity to have friends. Stolas has spent his entire life lonely. Now that he sees the warmth between the people around him, he's craving it. Leaning into it. He's not alone anymore, but he is not truly integrated into this little family either, not yet.
Not yet. It is a wondrous, beautiful thing, to think that maybe he has a future where he has more than just his daughter to cling to. Stolas feels sick to his stomach with guilt at the thought, but that does not make it any less enticing. He would prefer to have both, and given the choice, he'd choose Octavia, but he is playing with the cards he was dealt. Blitz has reminded him time and time again that he should not deny himself things just because he does not have Octavia. Stolas wants to believe him.
"Millie and I made pasta for dinner to bring over," Moxxie says from the kitchen. "I brought wine, too, if you want some."
Stolas's stomach drops.
There are two immediate feelings: one of desperation, one of abject terror. Stolas's fingers curl into the blanket. "Ah," Stolas says intelligently.
Moxxie doesn't immediately turn, but when he does, his eyebrow is raised. He glances at Stolas, looming in the living room, and then smiles encouragingly. It's the same smile Blitz wears when he tries to coax Stolas into taking care of himself. The one that says I see you're trying, and I'm proud of you. Stolas does not feel like he deserves it. "I also brought sparkling juice. No alcohol content."
Stolas exhales slowly. The desperation for something to ease his anxiety is clawing at him. The fear of going back into the haze is just as strong. He knows he was drinking too much, now that he is on the other side of it. He doesn't want to fall back into it. But he's also so, so tired of trying to be okay, and it would be nice to actually feel okay, just for a while...
"Let's do cider," Moxxie says, and Stolas blinks. His first instinct is to protest, but Moxxie pops open the bottle, and Stolas isn't going to ask to open the other bottle now. "Chicago first?"
Stolas settles back into his body, grips the blanket, tries to center himself. He's in Blitz's apartment, not in his palace. There is no absinthe to chug, no plants to talk to. But there is a Moxxie, who seems excited to be here, to spend time with Stolas, who brought food and cider and wants to watch musicals. "Yes," he says. "Chicago first." He makes himself smile, and the grin Moxxie reflects back at him makes it more genuine.
They watch Chicago, then Little Shop of Horrors (Stolas's request), and when that is over, Stolas tells Moxxie he should pick the next one. There's still a lot of food left--Stolas had only picked at his, and Moxxie hasn't eaten much, either--but they've finished the cider and moved on to orange juice raided from the fridge. Stolas had been nervous to use it, but Moxxie had just rolled his eyes and proclaimed that, "This is payback from all the times Blitz has stolen things from my fridge," and handed Stolas a glass.
Moxxie folds his legs underneath him, staring at the idle television screen. "Hm. I haven't seen the Phantom in a while."
Two and a half hours later, Stolas stares at the end credits, knees drawn to his chest. He blinks away some idle tears. He's seen the musical before, and the ending usually makes him bawl; this time, it doesn't sting quite as much as it had the last time.
"Did Blitz ever tell you about the truth gas?"
The question throws Stolas. He blinks, turns his head to look at Moxxie. Moxxie is frowning at his lap, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.
"No?" Stolas tries to figure out if this is a recent thing or something from before the trial. "What do you mean?"
Moxxie hums. "Do you remember when you saved us from those humans?"
"Yes, of course." It would be difficult to forget.
Moxxie looks up, staring idly at the end credits. "Well, we were there because Blitz and I got captured. Millie and Loona came to break us out, but, well. You know how that ended up." Moxxie clears his throat. "Anyway, the humans tried to interrogate Blitz and me, but we were..." Moxxie's thoughtful expression morphs into a smirk. It's such an uncommon expression for him that Stolas's interest multiplies, fully dragging him out of his reverie. "We were messing with them, so they gassed us with this--" He waves a hand. "--truth gas."
"What?" Stolas blinks rapidly.
Moxxie waves his hand again. "It didn't really get us to say anything important." He giggles. "Blitz and I ended up fighting instead of telling them anything about Hell. But it started, uh..." Moxxie grimaces. "We started hallucinating."
"What?" Stolas straightens his legs and twists to face Moxxie. "No, Blitz didn't tell me about that at all."
"The reason I bring it up," Moxxie says, "is because I'm pretty sure I hallucinated Blitz as the Phantom in my hallucination." He smirks into the middle distance. "Blitz singing opera. It was weird."
Stolas would be lying if he said he didn't see Blitz in the Phantom. The mask alone is enough to draw the comparison. But the Blitz that Stolas knows now is so much different from the one he used to compare to the Phantom that he's a little surprised one of Blitz's friends has identified the similarities, too. "But..." Stolas tries to string the right words together without sounding like a hopeless fool in love. "He's so... bright."
Moxxie's smile softens, and he looks at Stolas with something almost like gratitude, though Stolas can't for the life of him figure out why. "He wasn't always like that. You knew him."
"I--yes?" Stolas tilts his head. "I'm sure he acted much differently with me than with all of you."
Moxxie is staring hard at him. "Hornier, maybe." Moxxie leans back against the couch's armrest. "But the few times I saw you two together, he seemed more or less the same as he was with us. Prickly, defensive. Mean." Moxxie's smile dims, and his gaze unfocuses. "We used to fight a lot more."
"You two argue all the time," Stolas protests.
"The way we bicker now is different." Moxxie's tail is curling and uncurling on the couch beside him, rhythmic and slow. "We used to fight. I wouldn't talk to him for days at a time unless it was about work." He sighs, shakes his head. "Same with him and Loona. They used to fight a lot more, too."
Stolas tries to reconcile the Blitz he knows with the Blitz Moxxie is describing. He knows what Moxxie is talking about, but he's been operating under the assumption that the version of Blitz he remembers from before was that way because Blitz was irritated by his presence and only there by obligation. That the Blitz he knows now was there all along, and Stolas simply wasn't privy to it. "What changed?"
Moxxie refocuses his gaze on Stolas. "You did." He says it like it's obvious, a foregone conclusion.
What?
"What?" Stolas asks.
Moxxie's tail twitches, and his smile is soft again, in the grateful way Stolas doesn't understand being directed at him. "You happened," Moxxie says. "Something about you changed him."
Stolas shakes his head. "He hated me."
Moxxie snorts. "No, he didn't." His teeth poke out of his grin, just a little. "He certainly pretended to hate you. He wasn't very good at it."
Stolas feels unsteady, like the building has started to sway underneath the couch. "He didn't hate the sex," he says carefully, because he's relatively sure that Blitz did enjoy that part. He's pretty sure that's all it was to Blitz, before the crystal, before the trial. Before everything about them changed. "That's all it was to him. The book and the sex."
"Wow," Moxxie says, lifting an eyebrow. "Guess he managed to fool you, at least."
Stolas's heart rate picks up, and he shakes his head again. "I don't understand," he admits. This much about their relationship, he thought he'd finally understood. He knew things had changed after the trial. He's been leaning on the idea that Blitz has grown fond of him, since Stolas rescued him, since Stolas became something more than a prince and a ticket to Earth.
Moxxie eyes him. "I can see that." He clears his throat, stands up. He moves to stand in front of Stolas. "But he was hiding it. Maybe he didn't know, I don't know. But he had feelings for you by the Harvest Moon Festival, at least."
There is a high-pitched whine growing in Stolas's ears. He shakes his head again. "How--what? How can you--but he didn't--he didn't even tell me there was an attempt on my life!"
Moxxie grimaces. "Of course he didn't." He rolls his eyes. "Blitz gets hives whenever someone realizes he actually has feelings. But I know he did because he was way too defensive about trying to convince Striker you two weren't in an actual relationship." His lips twitch. "He was a nervous wreck talking about you."
Stolas feels his face grow warm. "I assume that's because he was embarrassed by my behavior."
"This was before that," Moxxie says. "Besides, you didn't see the look on his face when Millie and I told him Striker was trying to assassinate you." He taps his chin. "Or the second time, for that matter. I haven't seen him as angry as he was when Striker took your phone in a long time. Ever, maybe. He crushed his own phone."
Vertigo involves seeing the world moving around you. Stolas is having the mental version of that. "But... he..." Stolas stares up at Moxxie. "What?"
Moxxie's tail flicks behind him. He grins. "Oh, I bet you have no idea how badly he took the breakup, either."
"It wasn't a breakup," Stolas says reflexively. He rewinds through what Moxxie just said. "What?"
"He was a mess," Moxxie says. "Nearly bankrupted the company because he spent a month eating ice cream in his office. He drained our pensions on collectible horse plates." Moxxie rolls his eyes. "It took Millie beating him up while he was possessed to get him back on his feet."
"He--possessed--what?" Stolas presses his hands to his face. "I am so confused," he mutters. Blitz hadn't cared. It was just about sex to him. That's why he thought Stolas's confession was roleplay.
It is at that moment, while Stolas is neck-deep in a crisis, that a key rattles in the door. Stolas has a moment to think Oh, shit, and then it swings open.
"Heya, boys!" Millie greets. Moxxie, adorably and predictably, immediately lights up at the sight of his wife and circles around the couch.
"Hi, honey!"
"You guys have fun?" Millie asks. Stolas grips his knees, aware that Blitz is somewhere behind him.
"Yeah, we--" Moxxie stops, eyes fixating on something. "What is wrong with him?"
"'s nothin' wrong, Mox," a familiar voice slurs, punctuated by giggles, and Stolas twists around out of pure surprise. Millie is standing in the middle of the entryway, and Blitz, grinning. At the movement, Blitz's eyes shift, locking onto Stolas. His grin impossibly turns more dopey. "Heyyyy, Stols."
Lucifer. How Blitz manages to look adorable and sexy at the same time is an impossibility that Stolas is not prepared for. His jacket is unzipped, now, revealing a grey t-shirt with a wet spot on it. His outfit on its own is mouthwatering, but paired with the silly grin and the sort of dazed expression, he looks even more attractive. Stolas wasn't aware that he could be more attracted to Blitz. It is supremely unfair that Stolas only gets to see this version of Blitz now that they are not fucking.
"Hello," Stolas manages to say, miraculously without sounding as out of breath as he feels.
Millie giggles. "Blitz got a lil' excited playin' a drinkin' game," she says amicably, turning her smile on Stolas.
"'m fine, Mills." Blitz makes a grand effort at sounding irritated, but it's undercut by that silly grin. That's still locked on Stolas. Abruptly, he pushes away from Millie and stumbles over to the couch, crashing into the back of it, only a few inches from Stolas. He leans an arm on the back of the couch and waggles his eyebrows at Stolas. "Wassup."
Stolas can't help it. He blushes. Blitz's face is extremely close to his. "You appear to be inebriated," he observes.
Blitz giggles and props his chin on the back of the couch beside Stolas's head. Stolas can see his tail waving in the air behind him. "You always got funny words," Blitz tells him. "You're sooooo smart."
Stolas's flush deepens, and he stands. "I'm going to get you some water," he tells Blitz, escaping into the kitchen.
Blitz holds up a finger. "I--I outdrank the fuckin'--" He hiccups. "Queen Bee herself. I can hol' my booooze."
Stolas's eyes widen, and he turns away from the sink so that he can stare at Bitz.
"What?" Millie walks to Blitz's side, then jostles him a bit so that he tips his head to look at her. "When did you get in a drinkin' contest with the Sin of Gluttony?"
"How did you not die?" Moxxie follows up. Stolas is asking the same question in his head.
Blitz grins smugly. His tail is still swaying in the air behind him. He shoves his finger into Millie's face, unperturbed when she swats it away. "Your--your fuckin' annan--avin--aviders--fuckkkkk." He groans and throws his head back, knocking himself so far off balance that Millie has to launch herself forward to keep him from falling backwards.
Moxxie squints at Blitz. "Our anniversary?"
"Yeah!" Blitz giggles again. "I was so--fuckin' tired of feelin's," he drawls. "So I figured, hey!" He waves his hand vaguely. "Fuck feelin's. 'N' then Looooonie drove me home after I was s'posed to drive her home."
Moxxie and Millie exchange concerned glances. "Let's get you to the couch, m'kay?" Millie coos, tugging Blitz around it.
Stolas looks at Moxxie. "Did... did something happen on yours and Millie's anniversary?"
Millie snorts. Moxxie grimaces and scratches the back of his neck. "That was, uh, when we were at Ozzie's."
Stolas's stomach drops. He turns, wide-eyed, to see Millie ease Blitz down onto the couch. The tips of his horns are hooked over the back.
"Heh, c'n't believe Fizz and Oz got on us about being gross and gay," Blitz whines as Stolas circles around the couch, carrying a glass of water. He blinks blearily up at him, melted backward into the couch like a limp noodle. "Cuz they're--" He puts his finger in the air again. "--gay as fuck." He hiccups and smirks. "Hypocrites."
Millie pats Blitz's shoulder. "Yeahhh, that wasn't your best night, B."
"I was soooo jealous of you," Blitz drawls, tipping his head back to look up at her.
"What?" Moxxie yelps.
Millie sighs and pats one of his horns. "I know."
Stolas looks between the three imps. His own memories of that night are clouded in his own shame and humiliation, but jealousy? Surely he would remember that.
"Jealous of what?" Moxxie squeaks.
Blitz grunts and closes his eyes like he's about to fall asleep. He's drunk enough that he just might. "Your sappy fuckin' r'lationsh'p," he grumbles. "Bein' all in love and shit. Pissed me off."
Millie huffs a sigh and pats Blitz again. "I think you oughta get some rest," she tells him. "Before you say somethin' you ain't meanin' to."
"Why would you be jealous of us?" Moxxie protests, leaning on the back of the couch so he can see Millie and Blitz over it. He points at Stolas. "You literally had Stolas right there!"
Stolas flushes. "Mox," Millie growls.
Moxxie glances between Stolas's shock and Blitz's drunken smile, and his eyes widen. His tail lashes. Blitz pops open one eye and turns his head to squint at Moxxie. "'Cause he's wayyyyyy outta my league," he says. He waves a hand that is sort of vaguely in Stolas's direction. "I knew it ba' then, 'n' I know it now. Like, c'mon, Mox, look at 'im."
Stolas's feathers fluff up to allow some of the heat on his face to escape. Moxxie glances at him and then back at Blitz with an expression that says I have many regrets. "I see him," Moxxie says slowly.
Blitz lurches forward. All three of the other demons jump, hands outstretched to stop him from face planting off of the couch, but he just props his elbows on his knees. "He's so pretty," he sighs, grinning, and looks up at Stolas, who has officially entered the finals for reddest bird of the year, and Vassago doesn't stand a chance against Stolas's blush. "'s a pretty bird. Y'know that, Stols?" Blitz has dimples, grinning up at him, eyes big and shining. Stolas feels a little bit like he's drowning in the affection and also like he doesn't ever want to come up for air. "You're so smart and funny and--"
"Okay," Millie interrupts, pushing Blitz back against the couch by the shoulder. He moves easily, pliant and still smiling at Stolas. "You get some rest, B. You need it."
Blitz's smile dampens, and he squints up at Millie. "'m tired," he agrees, voice a little lower than before. Something about the way he says it makes Stolas's heart squeeze. Millie smiles gently and kisses the top of Blitz's head before going back around the couch and grabbing her husband by the hand.
"Good luck," she tells Stolas.
Moxxie waves as he's dragged to the door. Stolas barely manages to lift a hand before it shuts behind them.
Stolas shifts his gaze back to Blitz. "Did you have fun with Millie?" he asks in an attempt at a normal conversation. As though his face isn't burning and his feathers aren't fluffed out.
Fortunately, Blitz's attention span seems to be limited, and he tilts his head, eyes shutting. "Yeahhh." He hiccups and then groans, pushing himself up and leaning heavily on his arms. "Millie's cool," Blitz tells Stolas, eyes still shut. He screws up his face. "She's a biiiitch though."
Stolas lifts a brow, some of his anxiety easing into amusement, in the way only Blitz can manage. "And why is that?"
Blitz hiccups again, and he peels open one eye. "She made me talk about feelings," he grumbles. "Got me drunk sooooo......" He opens his other eye and squints over Stolas's head. "Soooo I'd talk 'bout... feelin's."
Stolas giggles. "You said that already." But Blitz's eyes are focusing back on him, his scowl easily curling back up into a grin.
"Stols."
"Hmm?"
"Your laugh," Blitz says. He blinks off-kilter, one eye before the other. "'s nice."
And the flush is back. Stolas crouches in front of him. "Can I help you change into some pajamas?" Stolas asks.
Blitz yawns and stretches his arms up above him, his back arching. Stolas's flush deepens at the sliver of skin exposed by the stretch. "Mmmmkay," Blitz mumbles as he sinks back down.
Stolas takes one of Blitz's legs and tugs off the boot, then the other. Then he takes Blitz's hand from his lap and carefully unbuttons the glove. As he tugs it off of Blitz's fingers, he glances up and sees Blitz watching him with only a thin line of his eyes visible. Blitz's head is tipped back, resting against the couch back. With Blitz sitting and Stolas kneeling, they're almost at eye-level.
Stolas's fingers still against Blitz's hand. It's still half-trapped in leather, but Blitz tugs a little, and his fingers clumsily brush against Stolas's. His mouth tilts into a lopsided smile. "You 'ave nice hands," Blitz tells him, his voice quiet enough to match Stolas's lower volume. He giggles and squeezes Stolas's fingers weakly. "Got a nice everythin'."
Stolas huffs out a flustered breath. "Th-thank you," he murmurs, dropping his attention back to their intertwined fingers in Blitz's lap. It's by no means the correct way to hold hands. Stolas brushes his thumb against Blitz's palm, and Blitz makes a deep grumbling noise, half groan, half sigh. Stolas looks back up, unsure if it's a sound of protest or pleasure.
"'s nice," Blitz says. Stolas brushes his palm again and has the privilege of seeing Blitz squeeze his eyes shut with another one of those noises. Stolas strokes Blitz's palm until Blitz yawns again, loudly enough that Stolas is briefly concerned their neighbors are going to start banging on the wall to tell them to shut up.
Stolas pulls his hand out of Blitz's grip and earns himself a pitiful little whine. Stolas blinks in shock, but Blitz just pouts. Be still, my beating heart, Stolas thinks helplessly.
"You're exhausted, dear," Stolas says as he removes the other glove. He sets both on the coffee table and props the boots up against the side of the couch. "And I don't imagine you want to sleep in that outfit."
"'s comfy 'nuf." Blitz's head droops to one side as Stolas lifts his hands to the collar of Blitz's jacket. He waggles his eyebrows when Stolas peels it off his shoulders, and Stolas doesn't manage to swallow the titter of laughter. Blitz's smile grows. He's so blindingly bright like this, happy and drunk and soft in ways Stolas had only ever dreamed of before the trial. If he'd thought Blitz was his light before, now he's the entire sky full of stars.
Stolas suppresses the surge of affection, the urge to wrap Blitz in his arms and never let go, the unrelenting desire to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and shout Why can't you let other people care about you? Instead, he pulls off Blitz's jacket when Blitz obediently leans forward, then folds it and lays it on the coffee table.
Blitz looks down at his shirt and jeans. He snorts. "These jeans are gonna be a pain." He snickers. "In the ass." The snickers devolve into giggles. "Get it? 'Cause." He wiggles on the couch. "My ass." Then he winks dramatically at Stolas, and by Lucifer, if Stolas wasn't smitten with him. He feels the infatuated smile on his face.
"Those jeans did seem particularly tight," Stolas agrees, tugging at the hem of Blitz's shirt. "Arms up." Blitz lifts his arms above his head, eyes shutting as the shirt goes up and over his face.
"So you did notice." Blitz leers at him when the shirt is off, though the effect is somewhat ruined by the off-kilter blink that follows it. "I'm a terr'ble roommate."
Stolas blinks at the non-sequitur and tilts his head. "You're not."
"I am." Blitz grabs Stolas's forearm and stares at him intently. "'Cause 'm a self'sh shitty shit fuck." Each word dampens Blitz's smile even more.
"What?" Stolas squawks. He leans forward into Blitz's space and cups his face. "What in Lucifer's name are you talking about, you silly, silly man?"
Blitz frowns at him. "'M selfish," he drawls. "Asshole, shit fuck."
Stolas squeezes his cheeks, and Blitz grunts. "You took me in after the trial without asking for anything, gave up your bed for a bean bag, and offered me a job despite me knowing not the slightest bit about anything." Stolas brings their faces so close together that he can feel Blitz's breath against the tiny feathers of his faceplate. "You are one of the most generous and kindest demons I have ever met."
"Not 'cause I'm nice." Blitz fake gags. "Did it 'cause it was you." Blitz's brows plunge, eyes unfocusing. "I hurt you." His voice breaks on the word hurt. Blitz wraps his fingers around Stolas's wrists; not pulling them away from his face, but just holding. "'s my fault you los' everythin'."
Stolas blinks tears out of his eyes that he hadn't realized had gathered. He swallows the lump in his throat. "We hurt each other," he grants. "But my banishment is not your fault." He presses their foreheads together so that Blitz can't escape his gaze when he tries to look away. "I chose to save you," Stolas says. "And I don't regret that. The only regret I have is that I did not explain things properly to Octavia sooner." He brushes his thumbs against Blitz's cheeks. Blitz presses into the touch, eyelids drooping once more.
"'m a homewrecker," Blitz mumbles.
"That would require a home to be wrecked," Stolas answers, rubbing Blitz's cheeks, addicted to the feeling of his skin against Stolas's fingers. "I never wanted to be married to Stella. You simply gave me the courage to leave."
Blitz blinks, slow and heavy, like the effort of keeping his eyes open is gargantuan. "Stols," he mumbles. "'m tired."
Stolas's chest bursts with emotion, and he takes one shuddering breath before he tips his head back to press a kiss to Blitz's forehead. "I know." Stolas leans back and carefully unbuttons Blitz's pants. "Lift your hips?"
The lack of a dirty joke is a testament to Blitz's exhaustion. Some of Stolas's adoration shifts into concern. Slowly, he folds the jeans and sets them on the table with the other clothes. Stolas stands and takes both of Blitz's hands. "Can you make it to the bathroom?"
When Stolas pulls on his hands, Blitz becomes deadweight and makes another whining noise. Stolas scoops him up, arms under Blitz's thighs. Blitz presses his face to the few of Stolas's chest feathers that have escaped from the collar of his pajama shirt.
Stolas has to take a deep breath before he can move. "Fuck," Stolas whispers. He steps into the bathroom and shifts Blitz so that he is sitting on the edge of the sink, though Blitz stays pressed against Stolas's chest. Blitz's tail winds up and around Stolas's waist, meandering lazily so that Stolas doesn't realize he's been trapped until he feels it settle against his hips. He has to pause his movements--he was in the process of preparing Blitz's toothbrush--and take another slow breath so that he doesn't burst into tears from the overload of adoration for the demon in his arms.
When he is no longer on the verge of exploding with the magnitude of his love, Stolas shifts, carefully turning Blitz. Blitz whines and stubbornly presses his face into Stolas's chest. Stolas chirps, then flushes at the instinctive bird call. "Can I brush your teeth for you? I just need you to turn your head, darling."
Blitz groans, but turns his head. His face is still smooshed against Stolas's exposed chest feathers, and his eyes are shut. "Only 'cause you're usin' those names," he says, then opens his mouth.
"You... you like when I use pet names?" Stolas keeps his movements slow and measured so that he doesn't jostle Blitz. "I thought you hated them."
"Nmmmnnn." Blitz turns his head in a phantom of shaking it, though he barely moves.
When Stolas has counted to 120 in his head, he shifts his hands to turn the faucet back on and run the toothbrush under the water. Then he picks up the cup Blitz uses and holds it under Blitz's mouth. "Spit."
Blitz does, and promptly burrows back into Stolas's feathers.
Stolas does his own self-care tasks one-handed, alternating the arm loosely wrapped around Blitz to keep him from falling off the sink. When he's done, he scoops Blitz back up, and Blitz wraps his arms around Stolas's neck and clings.
"If I'd known getting you drunk was the way to get cuddles, I would have tried that much sooner," Stolas says, rifling through Blitz's clothes for a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt.
Blitz hums. The vibration resonates through Stolas's chest. He's slow and methodical as he holds Blitz up in a standing position, pulls off his underwear, and replaces it with the clean ones. Stolas picks up Blitz once more and goes around the apartment, turning off lights, checking locks, and retrieving a bottle of painkillers that he sets on the coffee table with the water. Blitz doesn't react at all until Stolas carries him back to the couch and sits. Blitz ends up in his lap, and Stolas stops him from curling up.
"Whaaaat?" Blitz protests.
"Arms up, dearest," Stolas requests, and Blitz does it, eyes stubbornly shut. When the shirt is on, Stolas rotates to lie on the couch with Blitz on top of him, then draws the blanket on the back of the couch down and over them.
Blitz nuzzles into Stolas's chest but doesn't settle. When he starts pawing at Stolas's shirt buttons, Stolas runs a hand down his back. "What's wrong?"
"Feathers," Blitz says, voice muffled by Stolas's shirt and chest. He fumbles with one of Stolas's buttons.
Stolas blinks. "Do you... want me to unbutton my shirt?"
"Mmmhm."
By the time Stolas gets to the fifth button, Blitz has buried his face in chest feathers, wrapped his arms around Stolas under his shirt so that his fingers can knead into the smooth feathers on Stolas's back, and wound his tail around one of Stolas's thighs.
Stolas rests one hand on the back of Blitz's neck and one on his back, over the blanket. Blitz is so warm. "Can you breathe in there?" Stolas asks.
"Mmhm."
When Stolas rubs at the base of one of Blitz's spines, a deep, crackly rumbling explodes out of Blitz, so loudly that Stolas startles. The movement doesn't bother Blitz, and the volume of the rumbling grows when Stolas resumes massaging Blitz's skin.
Stolas's eyes sting when he realizes what Blitz is doing.
He's purring.
The vibrations rumble through Stolas's body. Combined with the warm weight against his chest, he falls asleep before Blitz's purrs fade.
Loona yawns as she inserts her key into the front door. She cringes when the door squeaks as she pushes it open; she'd never cared about being quiet when she got home late before, because Blitz can and has slept through anything, but Stolas's hearing is much more sensitive than Blitz's. She's still a little surprised to find the apartment dark and quiet. She'd expected to find Moxxie and Stolas passed out on the couch with a show running, but she sees Blitz's boots beside it instead and catches a whiff of his scent in the apartment. Loona glances at the time on the stove. Usually, when Blitz parties, he's out later than Loona.
Loona closes the door behind her and flips the lock, then pads toward the bathroom. She doesn't turn the light on until the door is shut, and when she's done getting ready for bed, she turns the light back off before she opens the door again.
Her gaze flicks to the bean bag, and she blinks when she sees it empty.
For a moment, her stomach twists with fear. Then she spots the lump on top of Stolas on the couch and understands. She doesn't bother hiding the smile as she creeps around the couch to look at them; there's no one here to poke at her soft spots.
Stolas is, as usual, draped on the couch with his legs hanging off one end. What is unusual is the pair of black and white horns poking out from his chest, where Blitz's face is almost entirely enveloped in feathers. Stolas's arms are wrapped around Blitz, one on his neck and one on his back, and he's drooling. Loona is a little worried her father may be suffocating himself in Stolas's feathers, but given the slow rise and fall of his back in sync with the chest he's lying on, she doesn't disturb him.
Instead, she pulls her phone out of her dress pocket and makes sure the flash is off before snapping a picture of them. She opens her messenger as she slips into her bedroom, tail wagging a little bit behind her. She sends the image to a group chat; Millie replies almost immediately. Moxxie replies a few seconds later.
Loona: sent an attachment
old lady: that's adorbs 🥹🥹🥹😭😭
prude: They look cozy!
Loona grins at her phone. Then, because she likes teasing her father, she opens up Sinstagram and posts the picture to her story with the caption idk how he's breathing but ok ig.
Loona sets her phone down to change into pajamas. When she slides into her bed and picks it up again, someone has liked her story. She blinks once, twice at the notification.
gothchk17 liked your story
Loona lets out a shaky breath. She almost drops her phone when a new notification pops up.
gothchk17 replied to your story: gross
Loona opens the message. The typing indicator is already there.
gothchk17: how is he
moonlight_howling_666: he has good and bad days but hes been adjusting to working @ imp
moonlight_howling_666: he misses u
The typing indicator disappears and reappears several times before a message finally shows up.
gothchk17: is he taking his meds
moonlight_howling_666: dad has to remind him to evry morning but yeah
gothchk17: good
gothchk17: dont tell him i asked
moonlight_howling_666: i nevr do