Archive of Our Own ^beta

Blitz had never thought about it before, but as time passed with him and Stolas living together, he started to notice something. 

While Stolas had grown used to Blitz holding his hand or touching his shoulder, the bird still reacted strangely whenever Blitz hugged him or sat pressed against his side.

It confused Blitz. In all the time he had known Stolas, the bird had always been very touchy, clinging to him like a damn koala after their full moon nights, making it very hard for Blitz to slip out of his grasp in the mornings.

He knew the circumstances were different, but he couldn’t figure out why. He tried to ask Millie for advice, but she had just shrugged him off.

“Why dontcha just ask him yourself, B? Aren’t you two trying to improve your communication?” 

If only it were that easy.

He dances around the topic for a while, mulling over the best way to bring it up without making Stolas close up and get defensive. It had been happening a lot lately, and Blitz still hadn’t found the best way to confront him on things like this.

Eventually, he manages to gather the nerve to rip off the band-aid.

“Why do you always tense when I hug you?” Blitz asks randomly one night while they’re watching one of his shitty horse shows. They had gone out for drinks after work and both gotten a bit carried away.

Stolas’ head snaps to look over at him, but the imp keeps his gaze glued on the screen, too lost in the show to look back at him. “What?” 

“I’m just curious,” Blitz shrugs. He had been trying to get to know Stolas as a person better—not the image of some pompous, rich, asshole prince he had made in his head. He wanted to know every single thing about Stolas, all of the thoughts running through his head, and the traumas that tainted his heart.

“O-oh! Well…I…” Stolas stutters, voice small, seemingly finding it impossible to find the right words. Blitz doesn’t rush him, figuring the owl’s drunk state was playing a part in his loss for words.  “Well, to put it simply…no one had ever… held me before Sinsmas.”

Blitz raises his head from where it was slumped ungracefully on the back of the couch, his brain hardly registering the words as Stolas whispers them into existence. His attention snapped from the television to the bird beside him.

“What?” He manages, squinting.

“The hug after our…dance,” Stolas blushes as he mentions it, and Blitz has to suppress the urge to roll his eyes fondly at it. They had done far dirtier things, yet Stolas still acted like a lovesick teenager over a simple late-night dance.

Not that he could judge, he was sure he did the same thing when he thought about that moment.

Their relationship had changed so much since that night. They still had yet to label it properly, but they didn’t need to. Not yet, at least. They had each other's backs, for now, that was enough.

“What about it, Stols?” He slurs, forcing his head to stay upright as he gazes into those beautiful ruby eyes. 

“Well, um…” Stolas looks away now, his gaze falling to his lap. “That was the first time I’d ever been held by someone who held the intention of comfort, of course, I’ve hugged Octavia, but…” His voice falters.

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence. Blitz knew what he meant. Sure, Stolas had given hugs to comfort others, yet somehow he had never been on the receiving end of those embraces.

He couldn’t imagine it. Even him, in all of his awful, shitty life, had known the comfort of a warm, soft, loving embrace meant to provide ease to a bad day. He can easily recall the feeling of his mother’s arms draped around him, holding him tightly to her chest as he soaked her dress with tears after an argument with his father. He remembers how she would kiss his tears away and cradle him to her chest.

Although his childhood was awful, he always had her to hold him. And, of course, he had Barbie, too—sweet, incredible Barbie, always there to wrap him in her arms late at night, one soul separated into two bodies, unable to stay apart during the coldness of the night.

He missed her so much. He missed them both.

Memories of a small fluff ball with legs flow back to him. He remembers the little owl ranting about his books, fluffy feathers tucked messily in his red vest, a small crown resting on his head. All four of his eyes were filled with nothing but innocence.

How had no one ever wrapped that boy in a comforting embrace and told him everything would be okay? How had no one been there to support him through a lonely adolescence and a lonelier adulthood? How had no one noticed his suffering sooner?

How had Blitz not noticed sooner? All those nights together, how had he never noticed how Stolas reacted to his touch, sexual or not?

The imp swallows, raising his gaze to meet Stolas’. The former prince looks embarrassed, as if he hadn’t meant to confess the words he’d just spoken. It’s too late to take them back, though. For a moment, Blitz just stares up at him, then he all but launches himself off the couch and into Stolas’ lap, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulder, head buried in his chest fluff.

He feels Stolas freeze beneath him, but he knows how to read Stolas like a book—which was ironic considering he was shit at reading. If Stolas wanted him to get off, he would shove him away. Stolas knew how to defend himself.

After a few moments, the owl slowly relaxes his body until his chin is hooked over the top of Blitz’s head, breath softening. His hands hesitantly lift to rest between the imp’s spines. Blitz tries not to shiver when he feels those familiar talons pressed against his back.

The silence is interrupted by a small noise escaping Stolas. Blitz just squeezed tighter. He brings one of his hands up higher, cradling the back of Stolas’ fluffy head, pulling him back so he can meet his eyes.

He’s not surprised to see all four of his owl's eyes brimming with tears, his beak wobbling sadly. It was a rather pathetic sight, yet Blitz still thought he looked beautiful. 

He cradles Stolas’ face in his hands, squishing his cheeks slightly. He pulls him down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as he holds him tightly against his chest. 

The dam breaks. 

Stolas’s whole body shakes as he clutches onto Blitz, talons digging into his back so hard that Blitz is absentmindedly worried he may be bleeding, but that doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is the former prince in his arms. 

The imp stays in his lap, running his fingers through his fluffy head feathers, shushing him gently, lips pressed against the top of his head, right where his hat used to rest. 

“I’ve got you, Stols,” He whispers. “You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

He knows these tears are not just a reaction to Blitz’s affection, that Stolas’ already aching heart was simply having a chance to run free while the walls he built up were crumpling under the alcohol. Blitz hopes one day he can get Stolas to open up to him like this without alcohol involved. 

“I’m here,” Blitz repeats steadily. “I’m not leaving, you hear me? Not this time. I’m right here, Stolas.”

He feels the owl nod against his chest, the front of Blitz’s shirt completely soaked through with hot tears. He doesn’t mind. He would spend every night for the rest of his life like this before he ever let Stolas suffer alone again.

He doesn’t know how long Stolas cries. Long enough that he can hear the movie behind him stop as the credits begin to roll. He doesn’t reach for the remote to turn on something, letting Stolas’ sobs be the only sound filling the apartment. 

Eventually, the cries go silent. When he dares to think Stolas was going to say something, he realizes the prince has fallen asleep. Blitz’s heart stutters in his chest as he gazes down at Stolas’ gentle, sweet, resting face, a blush growing on the imp's cheeks.

Oh, the things he would do to make Stolas look this peaceful while he was awake. He would give anything in the world to make him happy. For now, though, he would hold him tight until the sun rose, not caring about the hangover he was sure to have mixed with the anxiety constantly rising in him every moment he and Stolas didn't discuss their relationship status. 

Stolas was safe in his arms; that was all that mattered to him. He let his eyes fall closed as he pressed his forehead against the bird's feathers, breathing in his comforting scent, letting the night fade away as he held his entire world in his arms.