Work Text:
"Fuck this shit!" Blitzø shouted into the silence, throwing up the papers from his desk. He slumped back in his office chair, completely drained, while the documents sailed to the ground around him. It was very late in the evening, and night had already fallen. The single office lamp on his desk did a poor job lighting the room, but it was enough to read, technically. Not that Blitzø was going to do any more of that.
Fuck Moxxie. Making Blitzø do all the paper work this evening, just because he wanted a night out with his wife. Blitzø wouldn't have agreed, naturally, if it weren't for Millie threatening him with an axe. She went all glowy-eyed and razor-teethed, too. Blitzø winced a little at the memory. He would never admit he was afraid of her, but.
Yeah, he would just never admit that.
Anyway, he let them go. Big fucking mistake, of course. Now, he was saddled with a fuckton of words he couldn't make heads or tails of and numbers he could at least read, but that was about it. None of it made much sense, to be honest. The one thing he could put together from it all was that Moxxie's complaining about their expenses was overblown as fuck. Most of the numbers were in the tens to hundreds, and basically all of them were red. Red was the best fucking colour! So there, Moxxie. Everything was golden. No need to hyperventilate all the time.
Just as Blitzø was about to call it a day, rolling his chair back and not feeling particularly sorry when he heard the wheels crunching over some of the documents, a loud crash broke the silence. Blitzø stopped short. He listened.
There was more noise, just outside his office.
"Oh, great. Oh, yeah, perfect." Blitzø sighed, cursing his life- not for the first time. A break-in was just what he needed right now. There sure as hell wasn't much to steal from I.M.P., but if the fucker actually broke anything in the process, Moxxie was going to blow his shit- and blame it all on Blitzø, while he was at it. They'd just fixed up a broken wall like a week ago, again. It took three missions just to pay off that debt. Blitzø really hoped the thief had at least hurt themselves breaking in, though not enough that they wouldn't be conscious for when Blitzø told them to fuck off before putting some brand-new holes in, courtesy of his gun.
He didn't bother with being stealthy at all, stomping out of his office and even flicking on all the lights, mostly so he could see who and where he was shooting.
"Okay, you motherfucking asshole, you just picked the wrong office to-"
Blitzø faltered.
He stared at the intruder in disbelief.
"Stolas?" he said.
What the fuck. Blitzø slowly lowered his gun. He'd walked in just as the bird was picking himself up from the floor. Maybe that should've been the first hint. Like Stolas would ever be graceless enough to fall on his butt, except for when Blitzø literally threw him down- consensually, of course. And usually on the bed, or sometimes a desk, or maybe a chair or something.
Last he'd seen Stolas was about two weeks ago, on the Full Moon, as per their agreement. Not that Stolas didn't at least try to engage Blitzø in conversation via text every other day, but Blitzø hardly ever replied to any of those. He had better things to do, like run a business, or watch TV. Just other things.
"The fuck are you doing in my office?" Blitzø wondered, tucking his gun away. He made sure to let his annoyance bleed into his words. Texts were one thing, but breaking in after hours without so much as asking? If it were anyone else, Blitzø would tell them to fuck off in no uncertain terms. As it was, Stolas could flay him alive at the flick of a wrist, so uh, yeah. Blitzø kind of liked his skin.
"Oh, Blitzø," Stolas said, half a question, half a statement. He sounded... confused? That was weird. Blitzø expected him to immediatedly launch into a speech of some kind, something like how he needed to see Blitzø this very instant - no, thank you - and wanted him to play out whatever sexual fantasies he'd concocted in that horny little brain of his - again, no thank you, maybe another time - or whatever. Blitzø didn't really care. Stolas wouldn't visit just for visiting's sake. That wasn't what they were to each other.
"Yeah, it's little old me, big fucking surprise. Right here at my office," Blitzø muttered absendmindedly, frowning at Stolas. He watched as the bird glanced around with curiosity. What the fuck was going on with him? Even weirder was what he was wearing, Blitzø noticed. He wasn't dressed in any of his regal clothes, not even his slutty robe. He was wearing a fucking sweater! With grey shorts! Now, Blitzø wouldn't say he was an expert in fashion or anything, but the clothes didn't look anywhere near as expensive as they probably should. In fact, the sweater sported a horseshoe.
"Why are we in your old office, love?" Stolas asked, running a hand over the front desk as if it was some kind of antiquity. Yeah, he definitely acted weird as fuck. That, and "love"? Blitzø cringed. Stolas usually used words like Blitzy and impish little plaything - stuff that made Blitzø feel small, not that he'd ever tell Stolas. He obviously never even noticed. Fucking royalty and their arrogance, thinking they were above everyone else. Stolas was no exception.
Blitzø chose not to comment on that. It was no use, anyway. "Okay, what is wrong with you, Stolas?" he said instead. "Did you hit your head or something coming here?"
"Hm?" Stolas looked up from inspecting the table, where he'd been fiddling with a clipboard like it was something interesting. "Sorry?"
"Stolas, I'm asking if you're alright." Blitzø was starting to get really annoyed. He gestured to the room. "This is my office, my only office. You know that."
Stolas was blinking at him, as if he didn't quite understand, or only now perceived that fact for the very first time. He was silent for several seconds, until he uttered a singular, "Oh."
Which explained nothing, of course.
"No, really," Blitzø said, and if anyone asked him, he wouldn't say he was worried or anything. Stolas was an immortal demon, after all, he couldn't get hurt. So hitting his head- would probably only have temporary side effects, right? He might be concussed, but so was Blitzø every other day. So no need to worry. "Why are you here and what's up with you? What the hell are you even wearing?"
"Those-" Stolas said slowly, raising an eyebrow, "Are all very good questions, I suppose." He was acting weirder by the second. "I fear Via might have something to do with that."
To be honest, Blitzø was kind of done with this shit show. He'd had a long day, he wanted to go home, wanted to see Loonie before bed. He couldn't deal with Stolas antics, or his family woes. He couldn't deal with Stolas always inviting himself into his life, when all they had was a fucking deal where they were supposed to meet up exactly once a month. No more, no less.
"Whatever. Stolas, look. If you're fine 'n all- you know I'm busy with my work," Blitzø said, trying not to sound too dismissive, but also very dismissive. "If you want something, you could just text me. And breaking into my office after hours is kind of-" He huffed. "Not gonna lie, that's kind of shitty. So maybe you should go back to your palace now, okay."
Blitzø eyed him cautiously, slightly worried of Stolas' reaction. But he wasn't going to back down, he meant was he said. Stolas needed boundaries. Just because he never had them growing up, didn't mean he could go through life disrespecting everyone else's around him. Especially not Blitzø's.
"Palace?" Stolas repeated after a pause and he sounded, for some reason, surprised.
"Yeah. The place were you, you know, fucking live?"
Stolas looked at him for such a long time after that, Blitzø started to fidget under his gaze.
"Really, Stolas, if you're not feeling well, maybe we should bring you to a hospi-"
"How long have we been meeting each other?" Stolas interrupted. Blitzø blinked at him. "If you don't mind remembering for me, please."
Blitzø opened his mouth, closed it again for a second. He was so confused. "I- a few months?" he said eventually. Were was Stolas going with this? Why the fuck was he acting so weird? What was going on?
"Oh," Stolas said, his eyebrows shooting up, and then, "Oh, no."
"What-"
"Oh, Via. What have you done?" Stolas started pacing. He wasn't even talking to Blitzø anymore, just babbling to himself. Kind of like a lunatic. "This isn't good. Not good at all. I could be stranded here for- what? Hours? Not that I do not appreciate the journey down memory lane, but- oh Via, little starfire. We will have to work on your spells when I'm back."
Blitzø watched him, wondering what he was supposed to do here. Stolas was obviously going crazy. But where could Blitzø get a shrink this late? Nevermind, there weren't any good shrinks in Pride anyway. Blitzø should know. Maybe if he hit Stolas again, he'd go back to normal?
"Stolas-"
"It's fine!" Stolas suddenly sat down at the front desk. "Everything is fine! I can just... wait it out, I suppose! That should be the best course of action." He smiled at Blitzø. It was slightly creepy, though for some reason, his eyes seemed less intimidating than usual. Blitzø just couldn't quite put his finger on why. "Blitzø, my love, I won't keep you from your work, promise. I will just be here, I will be very quiet, and you won't even notice me. Do not mind if I suddenly, hm." Stolas frowned a little. He snapped his fingers. "Vanish, I suppose."
A few things clicked into place, then. Two truths: Stolas wasn't crazy, after all. And the second truth-
"Stolas?"
"Yes, Blitzø?"
Ah, there it was. Blitzø should've known. He should've clocked that right away. Blame him for being so tired from reading bureaucratic shit all evening, but at least he figured it out eventually.
There was a resounding click, stark in the stillness of the night.
"Oh my," Stolas whispered. He wasn't smiling anymore. Although, he sounded exceptionally calm for somone staring into the barrel of a gun pointed right at their head. Blitzø had to give him that.
Blitzø laughed, one loud Hah. "You got me!" he admitted. He meant it, too. He was genuinely impressed. Credit where credit is due. "I mean, good job! The mannerisms, the look- well, not so much the clothes, I guess, but that's probably harder to fake. Still, very impressive!"
Stolas cocked his head, in that typical owl-ish way. Again, super impressive, Blitzø thought. This kind of dedication to an act was something he'd rarely seen before, and he worked in the entertainment industry for his formative years.
"Blitzø-"
"That right there? See? That's your first mistake, dipshit," Blitzø snarled. Being impressed didn't make him any less angry, he supposed. "Stolas never calls me by my name, you know. I guess you don't. It's always Blitzy this, Blitzy that." He rolled his eyes. "And Stolas wouldn't drop by without demanding I stick my dick in him, anyway. So there's your second mistake."
"Blitzø-" Not-Stolas tried again, sounding concerned now. Too fucking late.
"Stop with that fucking name!" Blitzø yelled. Belatedly, he realised just quite how much anger he put behind those words, more than he'd wanted to. He certainly wasn't eager to unpack the reason for that anytime soon. "The way I see it, you've got two options here: either I kill you, or you tell me who the fuck you are and-" He paused. "Actually, I'm going to kill you anyway. But I'm curious, kinda, so."
Not-Stolas was sitting very still, about as still as the gun Blitzø kept pointing at him. He could do this for hours, but he was getting impatient. He really wanted to be done, and go home. Killing some weird thief in a Stolas costume in his office wasn't on his bingo card this evening, but shit sure did happen all the time around him. Whatever.
"You think I'm an impostor?" Not-Stolas said, carefully.
"Slow on the uptake, huh?" Blitzø suggested. Not-Stolas gasped. "I mean, obviously. Look at you. You're wearing a sweater, for fuck's sake." He pointed with his gun.
"That-" Not-Stolas started, breaking eyecontact as he looked down at himself. When he looked back up, his eyes were blazing. "That was a gift! From you, you asshole!"
Blitzø laughed. "Sure. Because the real Stolas would gladly accept an ugly sweater from me."
Not-Stolas looked indignant. "You love that sweater! I love that sweater! Fuck you!"
That, Blitzø hadn't seen coming to be honest. It was surreal. This guy was still upholding the act, after everything. At the same time, he wasn't even acting like Stolas at all. Stolas hardly ever cursed, not like that anyway. He did have a dirty mouth, but that was besides the point. Nevermind the fact that Stolas didn't even know about Blitzø's horse obsession. He'd never told him. Sure, Blitzø had quite a few shirts and trinkets with horse themes on it, but Stolas wouldn't ever look at him long or close enough to know. He was interested in Blitzø's dick, that was it.
"Anyway," Blitzø said, "The real Stolas could just, I don't know, teleport out of here. Or snap my neck with the flick of his wrist."
"I would never do that!"
"Funny." Blitzø snorted. "How about you take this gun away, then. You've got telekinesis, no? Stolas?"
Not-Stolas opened his beak, closed it again.
"Yeah, thought so," Blitzø said, unsmiling now. He made a show of motioning to go on with the gun. "Now, tell me who the fuck you are-"
"Well, I'm sure as fuck not your Stolas, you bumbling idiot!"
Oh good, they were getting somewhere. Also, asshole. Blitzø was done with him. "I don't have all evening, motherfucker." He fired his gun at the ceiling without warning. Not-Stolas gave the most Stolas-like shriek of panic while debris fell down next to him. Worth it. Blitzø pointed the gun back at him without missing a beat. "Last chance. I'm done joking. Who. Are. You."
Not-Stolas stared at Blitzø for a long while. "I- I am Stolas-" he began.
"Oh my fucking-"
"-from the future!"
"Satan's ass!" Blitzø finished, gaping at the guy. "You are a lunatic," he said when he found his voice again. "Christ on a stick, are you fucking serious right now?"
"Can you please put that gun down, Blitzø," Not-Stolas demanded. It wasn't even a question. Hilarous.
"Fuck no."
"Blitzø-"
"I'm going to shoot you."
"Blitzø!"
He...
Fuck.
Blitzø hesitated.
The thing was, even with how much he was sure this wasn't Stolas, couldn't be Stolas - nevermind the ridiculous idea of a future Stolas, what, going back in time to visit Blitzø? - he still had something about him that was undeniably, infuriatingly Stolas. It unnerved Blitzø to no end. He was looking at this motherfucker, in all his Not-Stolas but somewhat still Very-Stolas glory, and he couldn't fucking shoot him.
"Fuck you," Blitzø murmured, then louder, "Humour me," he said. He was trying to buy himself some time, for what, he wasn't quite sure.
"Excuse me?"
"Humour me. How did you get here, future Stolas, why are you here, what do you want? Fucking humour me!"
Stolas glanced between him and the gun. Not-Stolas. Whatever. "Can you put the gun down, at least?"
"No."
The impostor glared. "Fine," he said, after a moment. He let out a deep breath, looking away. "It was an accident, I suppose. Via has been practicing her spells, and she must've come across this particular one in the Grimoire. Poor starfire," he added, concern written in his eyes. "She must be so worried."
"The fuck do you have time traveling spells for?" Blitzø asked, "That's a thing?" Not that he was believing any of this shit. But it was starting to get maybe slighly interesting, in the way any kind of fantastical totally untrue story could get interesting once it picked up speed, he guessed.
"Don't be daft, Blitzø," Not-Stolas said, waving his hand dismissively. Again, a small gesture coupled with a few words that were annoyingly too Stolas for Blitzø's liking. "These are observation spells. You're supposed to simply observe the past. You cannot change it, otherwise it would be too dangerous."
"But you already changed it," Blitzø pointed out. "You spoke to me, I spoke to you. You're in the process of telling me about the future-"
"Because you're holding me at gunpoint."
"-how is that not changing the past?"
Stolas raised an eyebrow. "You won't remember this conversation, Blitzø."
Blitzø blinked at him. His arm was getting annoyingly heavy.
"Once I go back," Stolas added. To the future, was left unsaid. Un-fucking real. Blitzø obviously didn't believe it. Any of it. He really didn't. Absolutely not.
"What if I shoot you right now?"
Stolas winced at that. "That... would not be preferable."
"Why?"
"Because you can still change the future? Obviously."
Huh. Interesting.
"So you couldn't hurt me, but I can hurt you?"
"Please don't," Stolas said, which was confirmation enough.
"And when do you go back? Is there a time limit?"
Stolas shrugged, although he was still looking wearily at the gun pointed at his face. "In a few hours, I suppose. These spells usually wear off after a little bit. Unless Via manages to open up a portal sooner..."
I could be stranded here for- what? Hours? Blitzø remembered the at the time nonsensical rambling. Except- suddenly it made sense. No way could this guy have had that much foresight, right? To commit to this bit from the very beginning?
Blitzø's tail was swishing back and forth. He made a conscious effort to put a stop to that once he realised. Big fucking tell; it always did that when he was getting nervous. Stolas-Not-Stolas was obviously noticing it, too, which only made it worse.
"Then," Blitzø said, trying to come up with something. He raked his brain. "Why... don't you open up the portal yourself?" That was actually a good question. He mentally patted himself on the back.
Stolas cocked his head again, blinking. "Huh?"
"I have the Grimoire right here." Blitzø nodded his head in the direction of his private office. He didn't actually have the Grimoire there. Loona already took it back home. Stolas-from-the-maybe-maybe-not-future didn't need to know that, however.
"Oh, Blitzø," Stolas said. For some reason, he sounded apologetic. He sighed, shaking his head. "I don't have any powers left."
Big fucking- "What?" Blitzø said. Since when?
"I'm so sorry, my love."
If Blitzø had any mind to ask, he'd wonder why Stolas apologised to him for his powers being gone. Blitzø didn't care. Did he? Why should he? Because he couldn't use them anymore for his job?
"What- did you- did you give them to your daughter?" Blitzø asked.
"No, of course not." Stolas rolled his eyes. "That's not how Goetian powers work, Blitzø."
"Then why?"
Stolas broke eye contact at that. Why did he look ashamed, of all things? It was a long while before he answered, and when he did, his voice was just a whisper, "I was simply stripped of my powers. It was all my fault."
Blitzø almost didn't notice when he lowered his gun. He couldn't find it within him to uphold it any longer. His arm was so heavy. Everything felt heavy. Stolas looked absolutely dejected. It was the same look Blitzø sometimes caught a small glimpse of when he left him after their night together. He usually made a conscious effort to ignore that.
"Why?"
Stolas shook his head again. "It's a long story."
"Try me," Blitzø urged.
"Oh, Blitzø."
"C'mon, look." He put his gun away, holding up his empty hands for good measure. He didn't quite know himself why he was doing it. Did he believe any of this crazy shit? No. It was crazy, right? It couldn't be true. "I'll play nice 'n shit. So go on, tell me. Stolas from... the future."
At his name, Stolas looked up again. His eyes were a little shiny. He smiled sadly. "I lied. It's not that long a story at all. I was punished for my crimes, at Satan's court. I was stripped of my powers, my royal status, and all my possessions. That is all."
Blitzø let that sink in. He couldn't believe it, even if it were somehow true. What crimes could Stolas have committed that he'd loose everything over that? It was Stolas, for fuck's sake. He might be an immortal demon, he might be a royal, he might treat imps like Blitzø as lesser - but he wasn't evil. He was nowhere near close to as much of an asshole as all of the other motherfuckers Blitzø met on a daily basis, even. Hell, Blitzø himself was so much worse in every way, not just because he was a literal assassin. Stolas was a fucking saint compared to all of them. He painted skies and shit, grew flowers, read fantasy books and made up stories in his coo-coo mind.
He was pretty. Why would anyone punish such a gorgeous bird?
"You're not a criminal," Blitzø stated, matter-of-fact. "So what did these fuckers accuse you of, that was so fucking bad you were left with... what, nothing? That's not fair."
Stolas smiled at him sympathetically. He pointed between them. "Me, giving you my book - that is very much a crime."
Blitzø winced. But I stole that, he almost said. It wasn't untrue- but it wasn't completely true either, was it? They'd come to their agreement together. Hell, Stolas had suggested it first - knowing full well that Blitzø needed the book to do his job.
Shit.
Still, that didn't mean he deserved to be punished so severly. Or at all, if you asked Blitzø.
"Did I-" he started, then stopped himself. He was afraid to ask. Would he step up and say something, in Stolas' favour? Had he? Would he put his job in danger, his employees, his daughter?
No. He wouldn't. And Blitzø couldn't really feel bad for that - though some part of him did anyway.
"You're fine," Stolas assured him. "And I'm fine, too. Truly. Everything worked out the way it had to."
"You were fucking left with nothing, Stolas," Blitzø reminded him. He didn't think about the fact that he was talking about all of this as if it had actually happened - or would be happening some time in the future, technically.
"The things you do for love, I suppose."
Blitzø frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Stolas thought for a long moment. He sighed again, long and deep. "Blitzø, it wasn't me who stood trial. At first."
Blitzø took a step back. "What?"
Stolas let out a pitiful hoot. "They were going to kill you. I couldn't let them do that."
"Wait- what-how-what-" Blitzø suddenly felt nauseous. He stumbled all the way back until he hit the couch, more or less falling down into a sitting position. His mind was reeling. His breaths came a little too fast.
"When," he gasped, "When- when does this happen? Which date? When? Stolas-"
Stolas was suddenly in front of him, crouched down. Close up, he looked just like Stolas. It was eery. It was- undeniable. No disguise could be that perfect. No demon in any of the seven rings could get the texture of these feathers right, the fucking weird sparkle in those eyes - yes, all four of them - those happy hoots that came deep within- the fucking way he looked at Blitzø, sometimes. Too often.
Blitzø had lain awake during the last Full Moon, looking at Stolas' sleeping form, and wondering what he'd gotten himself into. Why Stolas - an Ars Goetia, royalty, a demon of the highest order, who could've probably bedded anyone he wanted, at any time - would want anything to do with Blitzø. Small old Blitzø, broken Blitzø, scarred Blitzø; self-made imp, but not really, no. Not even close, yet. Compared to someone like Stolas, he was nothing. He wasn't sure he would ever become anything, even if he tried.
Hands were on his face immediately, cradling it softly. "Blitzø, love. It's fine. Everything's fine. Breathe with me."
Blitzø shoved Stolas hands away. "No! I have to- you have to tell me when-"
Stolas was shaking his head, "Blitzø, you won't remember any of this conversation."
"Put it on fucking paper!" Blitzø shouted. "I don't know, fuck, or use my phone for a text message, or- or-"
"Blitzø." Stolas took his hands in his, urging him to look at him. Blitzø did, trembling. He felt cold. "That's not how this spell works. Nothing in the past can ever be changed." He was speaking softly, soothingly. It did something strange to Blitzø's heart. His momma used to speak to him like that. "Breathe with me. In and out." Stolas put their hands together on his chest so that Blitzø could feel the movement. It helped. Still it took him a few minutes to calm down.
"Why would you ever do that?" Blitzø whispered, at last. He put all of his disbelief in those words. Disbelief was all he had.
Stolas' eyes were firm on him. "Why wouldn't I?" It was only nearly a question.
"What about- what about your family, your daughter?"
Stolas sighed, looking away. "Via was... pissed, at first. And very rightfully so. She thought I abandoned her." His hands tightened around Blitzø's. "I would never do that, willingly. But I did make choices, and those choices had consequences, for both of us." He shook his head, as if dislodging the memory. His eyes were seeking Blitzø's again. "Anyway, we're fine, now. We talked it out. Please don't worry about any of that, my love."
They were quiet for a long while after that. Almost subconsciously, Blitzø started fiddling with Stolas' sweater. Stolas had knelt down in front of him, and made no move to stop him. It was a selfmade garment, Blitzø realised. The horseshoe on it was slightly out of shape, someone had done a poor job stitching it on.
Blitzø liked it. He'd wear that shit, too.
"This was... a gift?" he murmured.
Stolas gave a soft, comforting hoot. "Yes."
"From me?"
"Yes." Stolas smiled. He looked fucking pretty when he did that.
"And you... like it?"
Stolas' smile widened. Shit, even prettier. "Yes. Very much so."
Blitzø squinted at him. He tried to find a crack, a lie, anything that told him there was something wrong- but found none. This was just Stolas. Stolas who liked Blitzø's stupid gifted sweater. It was... that easy.
"Why are you really here?"
"I told you," Stolas said, "It was an accident. Via, she-" He blew out a breath. "It truly was an accident, you must believe me, Blitzø. And I'm so sorry that my being here has caused you so much grief."
Blitzø shook his head. Shit, yeah, okay. Maybe he was starting to believe. No, he totally believed. He wasn't sure why. It was crazy. It didn't matter. "I won't remember it, anyway, according to you."
"That doesn't make me feel any better about it," Stolas admitted.
Blitzø was quiet for a moment. "What else?" he asked eventually.
"Hm?" Again, Stolas cocked his head in question.
"What else can you tell me about the future? Since I won't remember it, you could just tell me." Blitzø shrugged. "I mean, there has to be something less depressing there, right?" Even to himself, he sounded disgustingly hopeful. If Blitzø was around to gift Stolas ugly sweaters, and Stolas went about his day actually wearing said ugly sweaters, maybe things weren't so bad after all.
"Oh." Stolas stood up, then, streching his legs and rolling his shoulders, before he sat next to Blitzø. He thought for a moment. "Well, you have a new office, among other things."
Not gonna lie, that made Blitzø a little curious- and proud. "Is it better?"
Stolas nodded, smiling. "Very."
"Hell yeah." Blitzø smirked. "Employees?"
"Same old, I fear."
"That's fine. I like my gang." It also meant all of them were still alive, somehow. Even Moxxie. Fucking alright. Fucking thank Satan, Blitzø thought, relieved. I'm not gonna remember any of this, he also thought.
"Well, you do have one new employee, I suppose."
Blitzø blinked, looking at Stolas. Stolas was... pointing at himself, for some reason.
Blitzø gaped. "What, you?" He hadn't meant to sound so shocked. But also, what the fuck.
"Yes, me." Stolas pursed his beak. How he managed that was anyone's guess. "How is that such a surprise?"
Blitzø desperately gestured to all of Stolas, then to his current office, then back to Stolas. He didn't know how much more obvious he could make his point.
Stolas leveled him with a glare. "I don't have my powers anymore, darling, but please do not believe for a second I cannot hurt you, if I so wish."
Blitzø winced. "Okay, okay." For a guy who'd been held at gunpoint for half of their time together this evening, Stolas was incredibly blasé about threatening him. "Hey, were do you live anyway, if not in the palace?" Blitzø asked, just now remembering how confused Stolas had been when he told him to go back.
Stolas stared at Blitzø, raising an eyebrow.
Blitzø raised both his eyebrows right back.
Stolas took his hands in his as an answer.
Blitzø quickly looked from Stolas' eyes, to their joined hands, and back. He blinked.
"Me?"
"Yes."
"I took you in?"
Again, Stolas huffed. "Now, how is that such a surprise?"
Blitzø was quick to backtrack. "No, no, it's just-" His shoulders sagged. He shook his head. "You're right. I guess that's the least I could do for you, after everything."
"I'd like to believe you didn't just do it out of pity," Stolas said.
Blitzø let that sink in for a moment. "And we... we still live together?"
"Yes, of course." Stolas said it like it was a foregone conclusion. Like it made sense. Like Blitzø was an idiot for asking.
Blitzø eyed Stolas sceptically, top to bottom. "My apartment is very small..."
"I know." Stolas made a face that told of countless head bumps. He shrugged, nonchalant. "That's why we got a bigger one, once we could afford it. Thank Lucifer."
Blitzø blinked. "We did?"
"Hm," Stolas confirmed with a soft hoot.
Blitzø's heart couldn't handle this, any of it. So what, all his dreams came fucking true? Just like that? He had a successful business, a new bigger office, a new bigger apartment, too, that also housed his royal demon bird prince for some reason, and all his friends weren't dead or, worse, had abandoned him? Sure, yeah. Miracles happened all the time in hell. Everyone knew that. Now Blitzø was sure he'd simply fallen asleep doing paperwork. That was the only explanation.
Still better than his usual nightmares.
"Blitzø." Stolas softly, bringing back his attention. He was pointedly looking down at their joined hands. So Blitzø did, too, and that's when he saw it.
Small, thin; it looked exactly like he remembered apart from the fact it was now freshly polished, the bronze-red band glinting off Stolas' ring finger. There was a small heart engraved in the center, that hadn't been there before, Blitzø thought. He remembered when he'd found the ring in the aftermath of the fire. He didn't tell his father, certain he would just sell it. Blitzø couldn't let him - so he'd slipped it into his pocket, safe and sound. He'd carried it with him ever since.
"That's my mother's," he said, voice too flat. He didn't know what to feel, what to think. If too many emotions all came together, maybe it was like colouring, and at the end there remained only black.
Blitzø looked up. "Stolas," he got out, choked. His heart did that thing where it would skip a beat here or there. It wasn't exactly pleasant so much as panic-inducing. "We don't have that kind of relationship, we- it's not even an actual relationship. It's a transaction." He blinked away something wet at the corners of his eyes. "I use you for the book, you use me for sex." It was just facts, simple, true. No need to deny it, or make it seem like anything it wasn't.
"I know," Stolas said. He didn't sound offended.
"I- but-" Blitzø drifted off. He shook his head. How did they go from this to - looking at Stolas' slender ring finger - that. The ring fit fucking perfectly. How?
Blitzø didn't do relationships. He hadn't for a very long time. He was no good with them, with people in general. He hurt them, kept hurting them, even when they ran away from him. He was terrified of hurting Loonie one day, of hurting M'n'M. There was no way he wasn't going to hurt Stolas, too. Blitzø was fucked up; he had been fucked up for too long to change now.
"You know, Blitzø," Stolas said slowly, emphasizing every word, "I'm not going to say that it isn't still very much a transactional relationship between us."
Blitzø flinched at that. But he barely had any time to spiral into messy thoughts as Stolas went on, "I mean, I use you for your love, and you use me for mine. I love you, and you love me. I supposed that could be seen as a transaction." Stolas was smiling, the smile reaching all of his four eyes. He traced Blitzø's jaw with one hand so lovingly, it almost hurt.
Blitzø let him. He deflated, leaning into the touch. His face was wet with tears. "I don't deserve this," he whispered, because it was true. Maybe no one did, but especially not Blitzø. He was going to fucking hate waking up from this dream.
Stolas leaned down to touch their foreheads together. "Lucky bastard," he said, laughing lightly, "And yet you still got it."
They stayed like that until Blitzø was done ugly crying his heart out. Like a fucking loser. A loser who was also maybe slowly falling in love with some guy he dicked down every month like clockwork, but let's not look at that too closely. He eventually drew back and wiped his tears off.
Ah, shit, he thought. Stolas was looking at him in that way of his - drew Blitzø in every goddamn fucking time. He'd told himself months ago there would be no kissing involved. That lasted about two meetings until Stolas looked like he was going to cry when Blitzø immediately made for the balcony door after they were done, and Blitzø made the stupid mistake of pulling him down to peck him goodnight on a whim. That got him a happy hoot which he refused to acknowledge - and opened floodgates he definitely couldn't refuse to acknowledge. Stolas kept asking for kisses after that, frequently, and Blitzø grumbled and rolled his eyes and shook his head and gave them to him anyway. Fuck. On their last Full Moon alone, he spend fifteen minutes just kissing Stolas stupid and fingering him to completion. Four times. He didn't even get off himself until afterwards.
Before Blitzø could do anything stupid, he was blinded by a bright light. Seconds later, he realised that a portal had opened right in front of them.
Stolas gasped. "Oh Via, my little starfire. She must've found a way to open up the portal sooner!" He looked proud for a moment, before locking eyes with Blitzø again. "I suppose... this means I should go?"
Blitzø's hands tightened around Stolas'. He didn't find his voice immediately, his throat was burning. He sounded raspy when he said, "I- Sure. I guess. You should- go..."
"Blitzø-"
Blitzø closed his eyes for a second. Opened them. Fuck it, he decided, leaning in-
"Hey! Get your filthy hands off my husband!"
Blitzø stopped short, halfway to Stolas' mouth. His eyes widened like saucers. They both turned back to the portal to see none other than- Blitzø standing there. Or, future Blitzø? Other-Blitzø? He looked just like Blitzø; it was surreal. Like staring into a mirror.
"Blitzø!" Stolas sprung up, immediately flinging himself at the other Blitzø, who caught him easily.
"Hey, baby," Other-Blitzø murmured, then went right back to glaring at Blitzø himself. "Yeah, you watch it, motherfucker," he snarled. "Try that again and I'll fucking slice you up in pieces. Don't think I don't know you want to tap that." He was slightly angling himself - and Stolas, in the process - away. Then he motioned with two fingers from his eyes to Blitzø's, mouthing, I'm watching you.
Stolas drew back a little. "Blitzø," he admonished lightly, but he was snickering, too. "This is literally you."
"Yeah, I know," Other-Blitzø said. He snorted. "The shitty past version of me, maybe." He stuck his tongue out at Blitzø for good measure. Then he swiftly swept Stolas off his feet to carry him. Stolas hooted in delighted surprise. "And you," Other-Blitzø said to him, "I can't leave you alone for five minutes, and you run off with the first Blitzø you see? Un-fucking-believable."
Stolas' smile turned mischievous. "I happen to love all my Blitzøs," he said, swinging his long-ass legs in the air and making very obvious bedroom-eyes.
Other-Blitzø smirked. "Oh, you freaky whore. Wait, is this a fantasy of yours? A threesome with two of me?"
Stolas eyes comically widened at that. He gave a small hoot, that sounded a lot like Oh. "That- I hadn't even thought of that!" He suddenly sounded very excited.
Other-Blitzø rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, okay. Thought that would be the first thing on your mind," he muttered. "Unfortunately, we gotta bounce. We have to get back to Via, she's been freaking out like crazy." He turned back to Blitzø, who had been watching this whole interaction with an open mouth and no brain power left whatsoever. Logic was so fucking dead. "Anyway, uh... raincheck, I guess?" When Blitzø didn't react, Other-Blitzø frowned, leaning in to Stolas and muttering, "You sure this is really me? He looks and acts like an idiot."
Stolas snorted into Other-Blitzø's shoulder. He glances back at Blitzø, too, then whispered something into Other-Blitzø's ear with a glint in his eyes that was all too wicked.
Other-Blitzø drew back in shock. "Holy fuck, Stolas." He laughed. "You dirty, dirty bird." It was almost impercetible, what with the red skin and scars and everything, but Blitzø could swear he was blushing. Fuck, he'd never seen himself blush before.
"See you, Blitzy!" Stolas trilled, smiling wide and happy, waving over Other-Blitzø's shoulder who'd turned around to hop back through the portal.
"Yeah, see you, bird-steeling cock bag." Other-Blitzø flipped him off without even so much as looking back. The portal swallowed both in no time. Blitzø stared after them like he'd just seen a ghost.
Suddenly, Other-Blitzø poked his head back through. "No, really," he said, serious. "Get ready, we'll be coming back to get your ass." He vanished. Came back again. "Literally." Then he was gone for good.
The portal remained open for just a moment longer. Blitzø was still gaping at it when it closed in front of him.
So... where was he?
Right.
Papers! Paperwork.
Aw, fuck.
Blitzø felt so fucking tired when he went back into his office. His eyes were burning, his face was hot and- wet? What the fuck?
How late was it, anyway? He must've fallen asleep.
Blitzø eyed the mess of papers all over his desk and floor with a disgusted face for a solid two seconds before he hell-no-ed out of there and closed the door again. Yeah, let someone else deal with that in the morning. Blitzø might just accidentally sleep in, completely on accident, of course.
Yawning, he turned off the lights, got his keys and went out the front door. Right as he locked it, his phoned dinged with a message. Blitzø didn't have to look at it to know who it was, most likely.
Sure enough, as soon as he swiped it unlocked, Stolas' name greeted him in big bold letters. Blitzø sighed. There were a few messages Stolas had sent him since their last meeting. Blitzø had basically left all of them on read. He sometimes wondered why Stolas still felt the need to do that. Maybe the bird should get a hint.
Hello, Blitzy!
Today Belinda - you remember Belinda? She's my absolute favourite in my garden - caught her first bat! All by herself! In midflight!! (The bat was flying, Belinda wasn't. Just to be clear.) She also grew about 2 inches since I last measured her, since August I think. She's such a good girl. I'm so proud of her.
I hope you had a wonderful day today.
I can't wait to see you soon! ;)
Blitzø looked at the message for a long time. He really needed to get home. It was late. Loona was waiting.
Still.
With a small smile he couldn't quite explain, Blitzø typed a response.