Work Text:
It took a week for Blitzø to finally decide he should probably go back to work.
Really, he should have gone back to work the next day. He survived the bullshit “trial” Satan threw on him, and he was the most popular imp in Hell because of it. Business was booming in ways that he’d never even dreamed of, and he should have been there to cash in on his new-found fame.
But he couldn’t bring himself to leave Stolas.
Oh, his poor Stolas…
He’d barely moved since Blitzø brought him home. The moment he plopped down on the couch, it was like he was glued to it. He refused to move – not for something to eat, not for something to do; the only times he’d left that couch had been to go to the bathroom, and he always came right back.
And Blitzø has tried to help him. He really has. He hasn’t tried to force anything on him. He hasn’t tried to make him do anything he doesn’t want to – and he really doesn’t want to do anything. He’s brought him food, which the owl’s barely picked at. He’s brought him drinks, but Stolas only seems to pay them any mind when there’s alcohol in them. He’s just… there.
Blitzø’s heart breaks for him. It really does. But there’s only so much he can do, and, after a week of this, he finally had to admit that his presence wasn’t doing much good. So he went back to work.
And it was amazing.
And then he came home, and nothing changed.
He went to work, he had an awesome fucking day, and he came back and nothing bad happened. To say it was a relief would be an understatement. He doesn’t have to stay here all day, every day. Stolas will be okay if he steps out for a few hours at a time. It’s not the end of the world. And maybe that’s even what Stolas needs: some time to himself. Maybe this is good for him. This really does feel like the right decision.
So he went to work again the next day.
And then again the next.
He’s just made it home from that third day of his glorious return to IMP and all his newfound fame, and as he and Loona walk through the front door, the only thing on his mind is that he is fucking starving. He didn’t even have time for a lunch break today. He and Loona and Stolas are going to eat so good tonight.
Except…
Stolas isn’t on the couch.
Blitzø pauses in the doorway, looking at the empty couch inquisitively. That’s… bizarre. He’d been so sure that he’d walk back into the room and he’d find Stolas right there where he left him.
Is he finally feeling better? Is he finally feeling like he can do things? That would be fucking great! Sure, it’s probably still a little too soon to jump straight into sex, but maybe they can do something cute and romantic, like…
Um…
They could…
Shit. He’s gonna need to call Moxxie for this.
But the first step is finding his beloved owl – because, though he hates to admit it, the odds that Stolas is actually feeling a little better and isn’t just taking a piss are incredibly low.
Blitzø heads over to the bathroom and knocks on the door. “Stolas?”
It’s silent.
That doesn’t mean much. He’s not sure he’s heard Stolas’s voice at all over the last ten days.
Blitzø knocks again. “Hey, Stolas, you in there?”
Again, it’s silent. Again, Blitzø isn’t surprised. It was more of a rhetorical question, anyway.
So he knocks one more time. “Hey, Stolas, I’m coming in, okay, buddy?”
Shit.
Did he just call Stolas “buddy”?
Why the fuck would he do that? That’s his goddamn boyfriend! (Kind of.) Why in the everloving fuck would he call his boyfriend (kind of) “buddy”? Ugh, he’s an embarrassment to boyfriends (kind of) everywhere.
But, despite his resounding dumbassery, he perseveres, and he opens the bathroom door.
Stolas is not, in fact, in the bathroom.
(He did leave the bathroom light on again, though. How many times does Blitzø have to ask him not to do that? It’s going to run up the electric bill, and he’s not made of money, dammit!)
But, as he flips the lightswitch off, he can’t help the smile that creeps up on his face. He turns around and looks at Loona. “He’s not there.”
Loona just looks at him.
Blitzø just smirks.
Loona just looks at him some more.
“Is that…” Loona frowns. “Is that a good thing?”
“It sure is,” Blitzø says as he kicks the bathroom door closed. “Do you know how long it’s been since Stolas was anywhere except this bathroom” – he points at it rather dramatically – “or this couch?” He points at the couch, lying empty for the first time in fucking forever.
“Um…” Loona shakes her head slowly. “No?”
“Ten. Fucking. Days.” He pauses between each word. It has been ten fucking days, but Stolas has finally gotten his ass up. Somebody mark the date and time: Hell’s just had its first miracle.
“Come on, let’s go find him!” Blitzø sas eagerly, already heading off to look.
He’s not in the kitchen.
He’s not in Blitzø’s bedroom.
He’s not in Loona’s bedroom. (That’s probably for the best. That would be weird.)
He’s not in the hallway.
He’s not–
“Uh, Dad?” Loona calls. She almost sounds… wary. He doesn’t like that.
“Did you find him?” Blitzø calls back.
“Well, I found… something?”
So Blitzø heads over to find her. She hasn’t gone far: she’s just standing in front of the couch, a small piece of paper in her hand. Blitzø gives her a weird look, and she just hands it over silently. He’s not sure what to make of it, but he takes the paper and looks it over.
The first thing he notices is Stolas’s signature across the bottom. That alone is a relief. It’s from Stolas. He hasn’t just disappeared off the face of Hell. That’s very good to know.
The next thing he notices is the dried teardrop smudging Stolas’s beautiful penmanship. He tries not to pay that too much mind, and he reads the note.
Blitzø,
I love you, and I’m sorry.
Stolas
Blitzø reads it again.
And again.
And again.
And then it really sinks in.
He’s out of the house before Loona’s had a chance to ask what’s wrong.
He needs to find Stolas. He needs to fucking find him. He needs to find him alive and unharmed. If he’s too late… He can’t even bring himself to finish that thought.
“Stolas!” he yells, as loudly as he can. He looks around – up, down, left, right, spinning in circles like a fucking ballerina – but the owl is nowhere to be seen. He cups his hands around his mouth and tries again. “Stolas! Where are you?”
There’s nothing.
Nothing.
No sign that Stolas was even here at all.
Loona throws the door open. Blitzø doesn’t even look at her. He can’t look at her. Any time he spends looking at Loona is time not spent looking for Stolas, and he can’t waste any time. He just… he can’t.
“What is it?” Loona asks. “What’s wrong?”
“Stay here,” Blitzø says, spitting the words out as quickly as he can. “If you see Stolas, call me.” He can’t stay. He can’t. He needs to be anywhere else; anywhere he could possibly find Stolas, and he already knows that right now, that place is not here. But if Stolas comes back, if he realizes the mistake he’s about to make… He needs someone here. He needs to know that someone will tell him. And he needs to know that Stolas won’t be alone.
“Dad, what are you–”
“Loona, I need to find him.”
He doesn’t give Loona time to argue; he doesn’t give her time to ask questions. He takes off running, eyes scanning his surroundings as he makes his way to the nearest car. He doesn’t know whose it is, and right now, he doesn’t fucking care. He doesn’t care about anything but finding his Stolas. And if that means hotwiring one of his poor neighbors’ cars, so be it.
He doesn’t realize how badly he’s shaking until he sits down. He’s vibrating like a damn musical instrument, and he can hardly control his hands as they grab hold of the wires within the car. It takes a hot second for him to get it going, but the moment the car turns on, he’s gone.
“Stolas!” Blitzø yells out the window. Where the hell would he have gone? He doesn’t have another home anymore; he doesn’t have a safe haven to call his own. He would know better than to seek out Octavia when Stella’s near – that would be a death sentence, and he would never let his daughter witness that.
But then, he’s not looking for a safe haven. Not really. Safety is far from his priority right now. In fact, he’s probably not putting much thought into where he’s going at all. He’s looking for somewhere where he can do something very, very stupid – and unfortunately, most of Hell fits the bill for that.
So Blitzø is going to go everywhere.
He just drives. He drives down roads he’s never been on. He drives down roads he’s not even sure are roads. He drives everywhere. He’s going to find Stolas, even if he has to drive though every motherfucking street in Hell to do it.
He leans his head out the window once more. “Stolas!”
He doesn’t expect Stolas to respond. He hasn’t any other time Blitzø has called his name; he’s certainly not going to this time. But somebody else does.
“Yeah,” somebody yells out the window of their home, “fuck Stolas!”
Blitzø slams on the horn, out of frustration more than anything. “Go fuck yourself!” Fuck Stolas, he says. Blitzø has already fucking done that! That’s the whole motherfucking problem is that Blitzø has already done that! They never would have gotten into this mess if Blitzø hadn’t been using him for sex (and the grimoire) for fucking ages! Stolas would still have his powers – would still be a prince! – if Blitzø hadn’t fucked him so damn well for so damn long.
Blitzø’s grip on the steering wheel grows tighter, and his shaking grow worse. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t fucking care anymore. He doesn’t care about anything but finding his boyfriend before he does something stupid – if he’s not too late already.
Blitzø grits his teeth and lets out a frustrated scream. “Stolas!” he yells again. “Where the fuck did you go?” Hell is too fucking big for him to just fucking disappear like this!
He’s nearing downtown; the busiest part of the city. Stolas wouldn’t be here, would he? There’s too many people here – too many imps here. The mere presence of a royal in the streets would cause an uproar heard for miles. If he’s here, there’s going to be a crowd. Blitzø won’t have a hard time finding him.
Stolas wouldn’t have gone to IMP, would he? He’s been there before. He knows the headquarters. He certainly knows how to get inside. Is there a chance – even a small one – that he’ll find him inside?
There’s only one way to find out, he supposes. He’s already downtown. He might as well check it out.
He’s driving by the building when he sees it.
There’s a silhouette atop the building.
Blitzø can feel his heart drop.
That’s him. It has to be. Stolas is on top of the building. That can only mean one thing.
He’s going to jump.
Blitzø doesn’t even bother parking the car. It’s not his car, anyway. He doesn’t give a shit what happens to it. The only thing he cares about right now is getting to Stolas before he makes a mistake that he can’t take back.
He jumps out and runs straight into the building, only stopping as he slams the up button by the elevator. He waits impatiently for the doors to open, bouncing between his heels and his toes anxiously. He doesn’t have time for this! He’d take the stairs if he thought it was quicker – and, at this point, maybe it would have been, if he’d started with them. Why is this elevator so slow? This is fucking ridiculous! He has places to be and boyfriends to save!
Finally, the door opens, and he jumps inside and sets it for the top floor. It’s the longest thirty seconds of his life before he’s finally let out, and he wastes no time in running to the roof access door. He shoves it open, and he’s never climbed a ladder faster in his entire life – and in his line of work, he’s had to run up a lot of ladders during hasty escapes.
He throws the hatch open, and as he climbs onto the roof, he finds him.
Stolas.
Alive.
A wave of relief washes over him. He’s still here. He’s still alive. He hasn’t done anything stupid – not yet, at least, and Blitzø isn’t going to let that change.
Stolas stands at the edge of the roof, gazing out at the city below. He must know he’s not alone – the roof hatch isn’t very quiet – but he doesn’t so much as flinch. Blitzø frowns, and, slowly, almost cautiously, he walks up to join him.
It’s silent for a while, as they stand side-by-side atop IMP headquarters. Blitzø wants to say something – he needs to say something – but he doesn’t know where to start. What if he says the wrong thing? What if he doesn’t help; what if he makes things worse? What if he’s the one who pushes Stolas to do this? He wouldn’t be able to live with that.
Eventually, it’s Stolas who breaks the silence. “You weren’t supposed to find me.”
Blitzø shrugs awkwardly. “You weren’t supposed to leave.” He was allowed to, of course. It’s not like he was a prisoner. But, at the same time…
Stolas doesn’t respond to that. Blitzø can’t fault him for it. What is there to say?
So Blitzø tries again. “What are you doing up here?” He knows the answer. He’s not an idiot. But there’s a small part of him that hopes that he’s wrong; that he’s completely misread the situation, and that Stolas only wanted to get away; to have some time to himself, and nothing more.
Stolas just sighs. It’s not an answer, but it tells him all he needs to know.
Blitzø looks up at him, but still, Stolas doesn’t look back. He’s still gazing out at the city, as though Blitzø wasn’t even here.
“I was only going to wait until after you left work,” Stolas says. “I didn’t want to worry about you walking out when I…”
Blitzø lets out a long breath, but otherwise, he’s silent.
“You looked so happy,” Stolas continues. “I’ve never seen you that happy before.”
Blitzø raises his brows. He… doesn’t know what to say to that. He was pretty happy when he left work, but, like, in a ‘work didn't suck total ass today’ kind of way. That’s all it was. He’s not sure he understands why he’s bringing that up right now.
Finally, Stolas looks down to meet his gaze. “I’ve never made you that happy before.”
Blitzø shakes his head, quickly, emphatically, and reaches for Stolas’s hands. Stolas just pulls them away. It hurts more than any words ever could.
“Don’t say that,” Blitzø says quietly.
“Why not?” Stolas asks. “It’s true: I’ve never made you happy. Looking back now, I don’t know how I didn’t see that. I don’t know how I deluded myself into thinking this was something more than just…” He sighs and shakes his head. “Casual, mindless sex.”
“That’s not true,” Blitzø says quickly. How can he not see that that’s not true? How can he not see how much he means to him?
“You don’t have to lie to me, Blitzy,” Stolas says solemnly. “You don’t have to pretend that this was ever something more than it was. I was lucky just to have you in my life at all.”
Blitzø grimaces at that.
Was.
He was lucky.
He tries not to think about the connotations of that.
“Stolas, I’m sorry,” Blitzø says. “For everything. I didn’t–”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Stolas assures him. “You were the best part of my life. Seeing you every month was the one thing I had to look forward to.”
“Stop it,” Blitzø murmurs, reaching for his hands once more. This time Stolas lets him take them, and they turn to face one another. “Stop saying ‘was.’ Nothing has changed, okay?”
Stolas scoffs, and his eyes shine bright with tears. “Everything has changed, Blitzø.”
“Not this,” Blitzø says, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. “Not us.”
“Blitzø…”
“I am so sorry,” Blitzø whispers. “About everything. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t snuck into your room that day–”
“If you hadn’t snuck into my room that day, I would still be tormented by my loveless marriage,” Stolas reminds him. “I would still be sludging through every day, just waiting for it to end.” With a small, tearful smile, he says, “You changed my life, Blitzø – for the better. I don’t regret any of it. I’m just…” He shrugs minutely. “I’m sorry that it had to end this way.”
“But it doesn’t have to,” Blitzø pleads. “It doesn’t have to end! I know it sucks right now and life’s a big bag of dicks – and not the kinky kind – but we're still here! Okay? And I’m not going to lose you again! I can’t lose you again.” His voice cracks, and he bites his lip, willing himself into silence before he lets his emotions take over.
Stolas cups his cheek in his hand, a soft smile on his lips. “You’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “You don’t need me. You never did.”
“Yes, I do!” Blitzø insists. How can he not see that? How can he not see that he is the most important person in the world to him? “You can’t do this, Stolas! I can’t –” He shakes his head helplessly. “I don’t know how to live without you!”
“And I don’t know how to live like this!” Stolas says. “They took everything from me, Blitzø. Everything! I don’t even know who I am anymore! I don’t have a purpose, I…”
“But they didn’t take everything,” Blitzø pleads. “I’m still here! I’m always going to be here for you! And I can give you a purpose! You can…” He raises his arms in a helpless shrug. “You can come work for IMP! You can help Moxxie with paperwork, or screen clients, or–”
“But that’s not my life, Blitzy!” Stolas cries. “I wasn’t meant for this! I don’t know how–”
“Then I will show you!” Blitzø begs. “I will show you anything and everything you want me to show you, but I will not lose you again! Do you know how shitty these last couple of months were for me? And you weren’t even dead! You were still right there where I left you, and I still spent the entire month eating ice cream from the carton and watching Ghostfuckers all day! I blew IMP’s finances on a shit-ton of taxidermy fucking owls because I missed you so much! And you think you’re just gonna fucking kill yourself and I’m gonna be fine?”
Stolas’s expression softens, and a single tear slips down his face. “You really missed me that much?”
Blitzø scoffs. “Of fucking course I missed you that much! Were you not listening at the trial when I literally told you I’d rather be dead than live without you? It was a whole fucking musical number and everything!”
Stolas sniffles. “You meant that?”
“You think I would have sung that on live TV if I didn’t?” Blitzø asks, incredulous. “Stolas, I care about you more than you know – more than I know! I have feelings for you that I didn’t even know existed!”
In spite of everything, that puts the smallest of smiles on Stolas’s face. “You’re not just saying that out of obligation because I gave everything to save your life?”
“Of course I’m not,” Blitzø says. “I’m saying it because…” He shakes his head, spreading his arms in a helpless shrug. “I’m saying it because I’m in love with you.” Which is so fucking stupid and he swore for years that he’d never fall in love, but he failed, and now he has to deal with thee consequences, so here he fucking is.
Without a moment’s warning, Stolas picks him up and presses their lips together.
It feels…
Different.
They’ve kissed before. Of course they have. They’ve fucked more times than he can count; of course they’ve kissed before. But this is different. It’s… softer. Gentler.
It’s weird.
… He kind of likes it.
Blitzø wraps his arms around Stolas’s neck, holding him close. This is nice. This is really, really nice. If this is what love is like, he’s kind of okay with that.
When they finally pull apart and when Stolas finally puts him back down on the roof, Blitzø takes the owl’s hand in his. “So, you’re, uh… You’re not gonna jump to your death anymore, right? Like, we handled that? You’re okay now?”
Stolas gives him a small smile. “I wouldn’t say I’m ‘okay,’” he says, “but, I don’t know… I guess I’m willing to give this a chance.”
Blitzø grins. “Great!” He tugs on his arm, pulling him back toward the roof hatch. “There is a fantastic smoothie place down the street – my treat, obviously. You’re gonna love them.”
Stolas chuckles. “I look forward to it.”
“I’m telling you,” Blitzø continues, “you’re gonna take one sip, and you’re gonna wish you had more than a hundred years here. You’re gonna get your princey powers back, and you’re gonna beg to stay here next to the milkshake place.”
“You really think so?” Stolas asks.
“Oh, I know so,” Blitzø says. “I’m telling you, these next hundred years are gonna be a breeze once you get used to the place.”
Stolas gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “I can’t wait.”