Archive of Our Own ^beta

Moxxie sighed shakily, rubbing furiously at his wet eyes as tears threatened to overwhelm him, everything from the past week seeming to slam into him all at once. The muffled sounds of Blitzø’s sister snarling something was lost on him, and he barely registered the crackling noises as she slid between realms, keeping his face buried between his knees and his hands rubbing along his horns as he tried not to cry.

He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t even managed to get one thing right this whole week, the one thing he was supposed to do - it wasn’t even that hard! Just kill one measly target! How had he screwed up his first mission so badly? And of course, Blitzø had had to be here to see it.

At least Millie had done a good job, though. The thought of her brightened Moxxie’s thoughts, and he sniffled quietly, smiling a little. He should probably tell her that - he hadn’t been the best husband while they had been here, and she deserved someone to tell her how proud they were of her. How proud he was. How much he loved her.

“Fuckin’ - fuckin’ shit, Satan-damn it!” 

The sudden string of loud cursing pulled Moxxie from his musing, and he glanced up, his eyes widening and his shoulders tensing instinctively. It was just Blitzø, which was normal - but what wasn’t normal was what the taller imp did next, which was bury his face into his clawed hands and scratch his claws into his scarred skin, a low whine building in his throat. Blitzø half-collapsed to the ground, all at once, right at the edge of the dock, curling up into the fetal position and shoving his face in between his knees, rocking back and forth a little, mumbling under his breath as his tail lashed agitatedly behind him.

“Sir?” Moxxie ventured cautiously, sniffling and wiping the last of his tears from his eyes (as well as blood smeared across his face) as he tentatively moved forward, wringing his hands together anxiously and biting his lip. “Sir, are - are you okay?”

“Am I - no, no, the fuck do you think? I’m not fuckin’ okay, Moxx, my own fucking sister hates my fucking guts even more than I do, the fuck do you think?” Blitzø’s voice was unusually raw and emotional and almost pained, and as he twisted his head to glare at Moxxie, the smaller imp nearly recoiled at the sight of tears glistening in his widened eyes, at the sight of his mouth twisted into a grieving snarl. “My own fucking sister hates me - not that I haven’t done shit to deserve that, I - I just - I fucking -,”

All at once, Blitzø seemed to deflate, the anger and grief leaving him as quickly as it had come, replaced with a dull sense of longing. His shoulders slumped, his tail drooping down until the pointed tip brushed against the dirty lake water below them, sending ripples across it. “I just wanted . . .” He spoke in almost a whisper, his voice cracking. “I just wanted us to be a family again.”

Moxxie - who was entirely out of his element when dealing with an emotional Blitzø rather than a blatantly horny, probably high on crack Blitzø - cleared his throat awkwardly, curling his arms around himself for comfort and moving carefully to sit beside the taller imp, bumping their shoulders together and digging his nails into his shoulders. “I . . . I’m sorry, sir.”

“No - no, please don’t fuckin’ - don’t do that.” Blitzø glanced away, lashing his tail angrily as he pulled his knees up to his chest, his claws digging into his scarred skin. He lifted a hand and brushed his fingers over the skull pendant adorned around his neck, his gaze clouding. “I deserve it,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “Barb, she - I get why she hates me, I do, and - and I get it. It’s just . . .” He sighed, and Moxxie’s chest tightened at the sight of a glimmering tear slipping down his cheek. “I miss her,” he confessed, his voice sounding almost frightened at the confession. “I miss her, I - fuck, I miss Fizz, I fucking -,”

He cut himself off, shaking his head violently and reaching up to scratch agitatedly at his scars, his mouth twisting into a pained grimace. “Fuck, never mind.”

“It’s . . . it’s okay if you do want to talk about it, sir,” Moxxie said cautiously, his heart jumping to his throat with anticipation and anxiety. Slowly, he reached out and placed a small, clawed hand onto Blitzø’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him; the taller imp stiffened for a moment before relaxing into his touch, his head drooping, his horns bowed.

“It’s fine,” Blitzø mumbled after a moment of quiet, though the tears in his eyes and the tremor in his voice clearly suggested otherwise. He let out a trembling sigh, shaking his head a little and attempting a smile, though it looked more like a wince. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Moxx,” he ground out, pulling away from Moxxie’s touch and glancing at the water below them. “I don’t wanna talk about this shit, it’s just . . .” He sighed again, pulling at his cheeks with his claws and rubbing at his tired eyes. “It’s been a fuckin’ . . . long week.”

“Tell me about it.” Moxxie smiled a little, bumping his shoulder against his boss’s, and after a moment Blitzø returned it; the expression grew as his gaze slid over Moxxie’s outfit, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“The fuck are you wearing? You look like fuckin’ Madonna.”

Moxxie sighed internally, suppressing the urge to rub his temples, unsure if he should be relieved or concerned that Blitzø was back to his normal, bubbly self. That said, the taller imp wasn’t exactly known for talking about his feelings to any extent whatsoever. “Yeah, yeah,” he grunted, rolling his eyes, “don’t even, I’ve already heard enough about it from the shitty teens here.”

“C’mon, Moxx, that’s a compliment!” Blitzø’s eyes had lit up with glee, and as he shoved his face into Moxxie’s, his grin widened, and his tail began to wag with enthusiasm. He didn’t look at all like someone who had been crying about missing his sister and wanting family just moments before. “Where’s Mills - does she look like you, too? If all of your missions are like this, I might dig this shit, even if it was all fucked at the end.”

“I should probably go see how Millie is doing, actually, sir. She’s become a little something of a celebrity around here.” Moxxie smiled wanly, pride for his wife flickering in his chest, and Blitzø tilted his head a little, his forked tongue poking from the corner of his mouth.

“You better tell me all about it.”

“Are you sure, sir?” Moxxie pressed gently, trying to keep his voice steady. His eyes searched Blitzø’s, and the latter glanced away after a moment, staring pointedly at the floor. “You can talk to me if you need to, I’m actually a good listener, or so I’ve been -,”

“Moxx, listen. I really appreciate it, I do,” Blitzø interrupted loudly, lashing his tail as he stood abruptly and half-ran for the door to the boathouse, kicking his way through piles of blood and gore and cocaine, “but really, as long as we don’t have to talk about my fuckin’ dickhead sister anymore, I’m totally okay. Never been better, really.”

Even though that was a clearly blatant lie, Moxxie allowed Blitzø to go with it anyways, because he clearly wasn’t getting anywhere with the taller imp; maybe sometime else, but not today, when the wounds were too fresh. Moxxie half-listened as Blitzø began to ramble about all of the imps and demons he had threatened in the past week and how his kill count had gone up by 34, and let Barbie (who he had barely even heard of today besides the one time he had asked Blitzø about her from a poster of the two of them together; Blitzø had stiffened and ground out that it didn’t matter in a choked voice, and Moxxie had never attempted to breach the topic again) slip away from his mind as he, in turn, recounted the events of his week to Blitzø, and then bounded up onto the stage to embrace his Millie in front of the cheering (and then disgusted) crowd - not seeing the sad, lonely look that Blitzø cast towards him from behind.