Chapter Text
How to Improve Your Communication Skills in 12 Easy Steps
Step One: Treat pushback as openings, not obstacles
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“I think I made a mistake.”
“Nonsense, sweetheart!” Lucifer shouts from across the lobby. His hands immediately let go of the ladder he’d been holding steady for Husk so he is free to hurry to his daughter’s side. He is vaguely aware of the cat demon cursing up a storm behind him and the sound of something heavy falling over. Lucifer ignores the chaos he leaves behind and quickens his steps, eager to seize this chance to abandon the mundane task he’s been given. He adores his daughter’s determination to introduce more teamwork into their routines but the guy has wings for Father’s sake! What does he need a ladder for and why does it have to be the King of fucking Hell standing there holding it, bored out of his mind?
And anyway! Charlie has been muttering under her breath this whole time, anxiously chewing on her fingernails, and his dad-senses have been tingling ever since. Something is bothering his little Duckling and Lucifer is ready and willing to eradicate whatever it is on the spot. But as he reaches her side and follows her worried gaze upwards he falters. He can hear Charlie bite down hard on one of her nails at his silence and shakes his hesitation off like a duck shakes water off its back.
“It looks grea-at”, he gushes and hopes no one hears the way his voice breaks.
Get it together, Lucifer!
Angel Dust, who is lounging on a sofa nearby, snorts. A very loud, very judgmental snort.
Charlie’s teeth bite down harder. A small piece of her nail goes flying and barely misses Lucifer’s twitching eye.
The king shoots the porn star a withering glare. The only reward it gets him is a blown kiss and a wink. He chooses to ignore the blatant disrespect and grips both of Charlie’s shoulders to turn her attention away from the accident happening on the ceiling. He then slowly takes her hand and sprinkles a bit of divine magic over it, restoring her poor abused fingernails to their former glory. “You did a wonderful job, Applepie!”
Charlie, predictably, brightens immediately. She squeezes his hand back and looks at him with that adoring gaze he loves so much and which leaves him feeling so guilty because he knows that he does not deserve it. “Really Dad? You really mean that?”
“Totally! Absolutely! Never been so sure of anything in my life!"
He lets his gaze wander around the lobby and tries hard, very, very hard, to school his expression into something that conveys nothing but absolute and wholehearted support. It is admittedly rather difficult when his eyes are assaulted with the sight of dozens of balloon animals in tacky colors hanging off the ceiling. He sees dogs and cats and birds and even the occasional duck (he is not interpreting anything into that, like maybe his daughter doing this for him, no he is not) and it is a step up from the absolute disaster of decorations from his first visit to the hotel but not by much.
He knows what his daughter was trying to do here: breaking up the rest of the decor to make it look exciting and new and modern. Mixing patterns, he thinks she called it.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t work. Like… at all. The balloons just look out of place.
The rest of the lobby is immaculate: circular bar tables with pristine tablecloths and candle holders and sparkling flutes of champagne (and blood), tasty hors d’oeuvre (not all of them of the cannibalistic kind) and soothing music playing in the background (jazz, which does not annoy Lucifer as much as he’d like to pretend).
Very classy. Very fancy.
But as soon as your gaze wanders upwards… Well. Interior designer, his daughter is not!
“You did wonderful,” he repeats. He wants to leave it at that but he’s promised his princess to be more honest, to treat her like the grown business woman she is. And you need to be able to take criticism as a business woman, right? Like, that's a pretty important skill to have, right? Right! “You did! Definitely. Couldn’t have done it better myself. Buuuuu-huuuuut. And it’s a small but. A teeny, tiny but. Not even worth mentioning. So small, it might as well not be there. So itty bitty tiny-”
“Dad!”
Wow. Blast from the past. Sounded just like her mother just then.
“Buuuut there will be a lot of high ranking demons and even some royalty coming tonight. And they have sticks up their butts. You know they do. And they might see your adorable, wonderful whimsy and-”
“Get rid of the balloon animals, princess.” Husker interrupts the painful stammering of their sovereign. He is holding an ice pack to his head and shoots Lucifer an unimpressed look.
“Not all of them,” Lucifer is quick to amend when he sees Charlie’s crestfallen expression. “Just… maybe the bigger ones?”
His dear girl stares at the ceiling with a sad furrow between her brows. Damn. This party hasn’t even started yet and Lucifer is already messing up.
“They are adorable and whimsical, aren’t they?” Charlie mumbles before a determined glint banishes the sadness. “Which is exactly what I don’t want tonight! This fundraiser is meant to bring in sponsors from all the Rings. We need them to recognize us as a professional business. Tonight has to be perfect!”
“Well spoken, my dear.” The radio demon appears out of nowhere and Lucifer does such a good job not jumping out of his skin in surprise that he would like some kind of medal for that, please. “Allow me.” With a snap of his long ass fingers the balloon animals pop and disappear.
Most of them.
A few smaller ones remain, almost invisible between the chandeliers and resting in clusters against the walls. Seeing Charlie’s puzzled look the overlord merely shrugs, his unnerving smile never wavering. “There will, unfortunately, also be a few wee ones attending the party with their parents I assume. Appealing to their… love of whimsy might also sway their guardians into a more favorable mood and loosen some wallets.”
Charlie beams at the guy and as much as Lucifer wants to wipe that smug grin off the demon's face more often than not, he has to admit that he is thankful for Alastor’s subtle act of kindness. He wants Charlie to succeed and wow her audience tonight but he doesn’t want her to change who she is either. He knows how it feels to bend yourself to the expectations of others, to reign in yourself and everything that makes you you just so you will be taken seriously. To sit stone faced and outwardly unaffected, always hiding the storm brewing inside, biting your lip, gnashing your teeth.
He doesn’t want that for his daughter.
Alastor grins at him as if he knows exactly what Lucifer is thinking. He raises one of his eyebrows as if daring the king to question his good deed. Lucifer knows that the demon expects him to turn it into one of their infamous shouting matches that almost always boil down to Lucifer feeling insecure about his relationship with Charlie and Alastor mercilessly mocking him about it.
Instead Lucifer takes a deep breath and gifts upon the sinner the most benevolent smile he can muster. It does not reach his eyes and the restraint almost kills him but that hardly matters. What matters is that Charlie is watching their exchange with baited breath and that his darling little girl starts to beam at him when she realizes that her dad remembers his promise and intends to follow through.
She’d cornered him in the kitchen just that morning which was, in hindsight, pretty unfair. Her downturned face and the big puppy eyes are lethal on a good day. Sleep drunken and without his morning coffee Lucifer never stood a chance.
“This night is really important to me, Dad. I know I have already asked a lot of you, making you use your connections to fill the guest list with all these important demons and everything. But please try to get along with Alastor tonight? We all need to present a united front. The guests need to see that we know what we are doing and we can’t do that if you two are at each other’s throats the whole time. Please? For me?”
And how could he have said no to that? How could he have looked into that face and denied his little girl this one, simple wish? How hard could it be to play nice with the radio demon for just one night? He just has to ignore the guy and grin and bear it when he tries to push Lucifer’s buttons. Surely he can manage that… for one night.
For Charlie!
He has disappointed his daughter more than enough already and he will not ruin her chances for some heavy hitting sponsors. He will be supportive and on his best behavior and not even Alastor’s smug grin or veiled insults will make him break that promise.
So Lucifer doesn’t rise to the bait and instead turns his back on the sinner, stone faced, biting his lip, gnashing his teeth.
Same old, same old.
The screech of radio feedback at his back startles him for a second but when he chances a look over his shoulder Alastor is facing away from him, one eyelid twitching and grin strained. Weird.
“So. Lotsa filthy rich peeps comin’ tonight. Anyone safe ta approach for a good time, Short King?”
Angel is the only one who has already donned the fancy gown he is going to wear tonight. He has skillfully used that as an excuse to only do the bare minimum to help prepare the lobby for the fundraiser, citing that he doesn’t want to ruin his outfit. And what an outfit it is! A deep purple dress with white pelt accents and a slit that ends just short of reaching his ass. A low neckline shows off a choker with dozens of delicate, golden chains hanging off of it, cascading down his chest and disappearing into his cleavage. The spider takes great pleasure in sprawling out across the sofa, lifting his legs into the air to show off ankle boots covered in fake gems and heels long and sharp enough to kill a demon.
The question is obviously meant for Lucifer but Angel is doing everything he can to not actually acknowledge the king standing next to the sofa. Instead he is staring at his nails that he has painted purple to match his dress as if they are the most fascinating thing he has ever seen.
Lucifer realizes that he is nervously rubbing his fingers over the burns on his palm and immediately stops, annoyed with himself.
He hates this!
Ever since his little pissing contest with the moth pimp and the rather dramatic confrontation that followed Lucifer doesn’t know how to act around Angel.
Sometimes it feels like they have a connection now that he doesn’t share with anyone else in this hotel, not even his darling Charlie. They understand each other on a level that feels almost invasive, aware of each other in a way that is suffocating at worst and uncomfortable at best. It scares Lucifer, sometimes, this unspoken thing between them. And if it scares the King of Hell he doesn’t even want to know how Angel feels about any of it.
Despite all of that (or maybe even because of all of that) most of the time they can barely stand to be in the same room without resentment and guilt bubbling beneath the surface respectively.
Lucifer might be the original Sin of Pride, but even he can admit that he’s gone about this whole thing the wrong way. At the time he’d simply seen a problem and fixed it. There had been little to no second guessing and certainly no time to stop and wonder if maybe he should talk to Angel about any of this first. This Valentino guy had obviously been trouble and Lucifer had taken care of him.
Nothing more to it. Easy peasy.
Right?
While he admits that he maybe should have had a discussion about this with Angel first, he has yet to apologize for his actions which probably contributes to the weird mood between them.
But, quite frankly, it is hard to apologize for something he doesn’t exactly feel sorry for. Angel wasn’t any more than Val’s sex slave with that contract and no matter how much the spider has been screaming at him about choices and consent and how it wasn’t his place to meddle Lucifer honestly just… doesn’t get it.
It’s obvious that Angel would have never been able to break the contract without help, not against a powerful overlord like Valentino. And it is glaringly obvious that a big, heavy burden has left his shoulders after Lucifer got involved. He laughs more freely, his flirting is much less aggressive, the bags under his eyes have grown significantly less pronounced.
Sometimes he jokes with Lucifer as if they are the best of friends and sometimes he stares at the king from across the room as if he wants to strangle him and Lucifer just doesn’t understand why the guy is still holding on to all this resentment!
Isn’t he happier this way? Isn’t it better this way?
His confusion over the issue has been messing with his head quite a bit because everyone else seems to get it. Husk has pretty much been making him the best and most delicious cocktails of his life ever since, but the cat demon has also told him that he’d really messed up and he needs to get his head out of his ass. And Charlie has told him how disappointed she is in him while hugging the living daylights out of him with tears of joy falling from her eyes. Vaggie has cornered him and thanked him for taking care of that particular problem and in the same breath threatened him with bodily harm if he ever dared breach her boundaries like that.
And that creep Alastor has been… staring a lot more than usual. Like, a lot more. The calculated look in his eyes is something that makes Lucifer nervous for reasons he can’t explain and the “Who knew you had it in you, Sire. You are much more interesting than I thought,” whispered into his ear one late night in the kitchen had sent a shiver down his spine that Lucifer would rather not think about too closely.
Niffty’s only reaction was a sad “No more visits from the Bad Boy?” and that was that.
Weird, but a lot less confusing than the others.
So yeah, everyone seems to be a bit two-faced about the whole incident, happy and dismayed in equal measures, and Lucifer honestly wishes he could sympathize and understand a lot better than he does but he simply…doesn’t.
Which just shows again how fucking ‘other’ he is compared to all of them. A millennia old, exiled archangel. The first. The favorite. The traitor. Not a demon, not a sinner, not a human and definitely no longer an angel. Detached from everything. He’s never felt so different.
Never felt so lonely.
Without giving himself too much time to think about it (Hah, story of his life!) he sits down at the other end of the sofa, right next to Angel. The sinner pauses only for a second before he lowers his legs so they lie across Lucifer’s lap. The king rests one hand on one of the boots and he will deny for the rest of eternity the relief he feels when the spider doesn’t pull away.
He ignores the knowing and sappy look his daughter shoots him. She knows him too well sometimes and she knows how much this tension between him and the porn star has been weighing on his mind. Which is ridiculous, really. What does Lucifer care what a random sinner thinks of him and whether he is comfortable around him and not angry anymore and-
Whatever!
He clears his throat and stretches his other arm out along the back of the furniture. Hopefully it makes him look cool and relaxed and not like the nervous wreck he actually is.
“Hah! Who is not coming would be the better question. We’ll have almost all of the sins, of course. Mammon hasn’t RSVP’d but that doesn’t mean shit with that guy. He never does and then just crashes the party. Wouldn’t have invited him at all but we have invited all the other sins and Mam can be such a little bitch when he feels slighted. Let’s just hope he forgot about this whole thing, shall we? Ozzie is coming and I heard there is some bad blood between the two of them and hoh boy, when they fight they FIGHT if you know what I mean? Hmmmm, let’s see, we’ll have some overlords coming, naturally.” He feels a tremor going through the legs on his lap and adds: “Only those we want here, of course. And I invited some Ars Goetia, as you do.”
“Really?” Charlie steps up behind the sofa and leans on the back of it, gripping her father’s arm nervously. Vaggie has wandered over as well and lays a comforting hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder. These two are so sweet! Lucifer really needs to arrange some one on one bonding time with his daughter’s girlfriend soon. As the father it’s probably his duty to give her the shovel talk but that is some archaic bullshit and anyway, he is pretty sure Vaggie would dismember him and hide the body if he ever tried. Atta girl!
Wait! His daughter asked him a question, didn’t she?
“Oh, uhm, I did! I know they are a bit… uptight. But they have a lot of connections and their magic is nothing to scoff at, Ducky.”
“So, is Lord Paimon coming?” His daughter, bless her sweet heart, tries to sound politely curious instead of apprehensive. Lucifer knows how much she hated the last party she had to attend, organized by her mother, where the elder Goetia had trapped her in an hour long, pompous monologue about how much better they all are compared to lesser demons and sinners.
How nice to be the bearer of good news for once. “Nope! He is sending his son, Prince Stolas.”
“Oh!” Just as he had hoped his daughter brightens immediately. “I think I remember him? I was a teenager and didn’t talk to him much but I think he was very sweet with his daughter, wasn’t he? I remember that he was very polite, at least. Will he attend with his wife?”
Lucifer rarely bothers to remember anyone he deems unimportant so he only has a vague memory of a very young Goetia couple from one of his wife’s get togethers years ago. Him, brooding and uptight, focused on the small girl hiding behind his tail feathers. And her, complaining about everyone and everything, voice grating and obnoxious.
Angel perks up. “Wait! The Prince Stolas? Tall, dark and fuckin’ handsome? Well Toots, seriously doubt he’ll attend with da dear wifey, considering tha’ they got a pretty nasty divorce a few months ago. It was all over da tabloids.”
“How sad!”
“Don’t know about that.” Husk drawls. “Talk on the street is that she was a real bitch about it and almost got him assassinated. Is still trying, as far as I know.”
Charlie gasps and pulls Vaggie closer. “Seriously? But they must have loved each other once! Even if they are not together anymore, how could you want to hurt the person you loved once?”
“Oh, sweet summer child.” Angel sighs and shares a knowing look with Lucifer. The devil is the first to look away, a bit too uncomfortable with the familiar sense of understanding passing between them. It’s not as one sided as he’d like it to be.
“Well,” he conjures up Stolas’ reply and reads it over again. “He checked the plus one but didn’t put down a name. Maybe we’ll get to meet his new fling tonight! How scandalous.”
He briefly wonders if they have invited his wife too (Bella or something like that) but dismisses the thought immediately. Even if they did, he doubts she will turn up. As far as he can remember, she comes from an influential family which is also very elitist. No way would they ever want their name associated with something like the Hazbin Hotel.
“It certainly promises to be a very entertaining evening, doesn’t it?” Alastor says and claps his hands once. “The doors will open soon, let us all freshen up and-” He pulls Lucifer up by his lapels, ignoring Angel’s indignant squawk when the sinner almost falls off the sofa with his foot rest gone. “Let’s be on our best behavior, everyone. Hmm?”
He fiddles with Lucifer’s suit, smoothing the lapels back down as if he wasn’t the one who wrinkled them in the first place. Lucifer is keenly aware of Charlie watching them and keeps himself from slapping the hands away by sheer force of will. When Alastor smirks and winks at him he can feel his self-control slipping and hastily takes a big step back.
That fucking smirk and wink is all the confirmation he needs. Alastor must be aware of his talk with Charlie and Lucifer’s promise to not start any fights during the fundraiser. Which means Alastor, who has a nasty talent for appearing genuine and polite while flaying you alive with his words alone, knows that he has the upper hand tonight.
Lucifer snarls a warning as subtly as he can. Alastor merely laughs and disappears into the kitchen with a merry little spring in his step.
This is gonna be a long night.
**************************
“Don’t you think this outfit might be too much?”
Blitz hums and doesn’t look up from his phone. He just sent Moxx a filthy meme and enjoys an epic, prudish freak out which consists of his employee insulting him in all caps, blocking Blitz, unblocking him to send some more insults and blocking him again. A notification from Mills pops up in the corner, assuring Blitz that she will unblock his number on her husband’s phone as soon as Moxxie has calmed down and thanking him for giving her a fun idea for their night off.
Is he the best boss in all of hell, or what?
“It’s not,” he drawls when he realizes that Stolas is suspiciously quiet. Usually the owl would be rambling to himself by now, pretty much answering his own question. Quiet Stolas means that the inquiry was not, in fact, rhetorical and requires an actual answer.
“I just… I usually wear things that are a little less revealing to official events. Stella always said-”
Blitz immediately puts his phone away and gives Stolas his full attention. He scowls when he is once again reminded how obnoxiously long this fucking limousine is. When Blitz saw their ride for the night he was all in favor of enjoying some luxury but sitting on opposing seats means that he can’t play footsie with the Goetia which pretty much takes all the fun out of a long drive if you ask him.
Despite the dim lightning he can tell that Stolas is nervous. Normally he would distract the guy by planting his foot right between those long legs and making good use of his flexible toes. Stolas is so far out of reach he doesn’t even try though. Instead he puts a lot of effort into a leer that is filthy enough to make Stolas blush all the way across the space between them. “Fuck that bitch! Was probably just jealous of your tight ass! Damn, Birdie, look at you! Might have to fight them horny bastards off with a stick all night. But that’s what you got me for, isn’t it? Come on, don’t act like that wasn’t your intention all along.”
In moments like these, moments when the self-doubt rages like a beast behind four sad eyes, it is easy to see why Stolas is such a glutton for attention. They don’t talk about his married life a lot but it is obvious to anyone with eyes and at least a smidge of brains that Stella has done her damndest over the years to put Stolas down any chance she got. Be it his clothing or his love of books or his interest in plants and stars.
No wonder he lights up at the smallest sign of affection, something that Blitz once upon a time found suffocating and exhausting. He is not great with words and he used to think that Stolas was just messing with him when he’d react like a lovesick fool to his uncouth attempts at pillow talk.
But nope. Touch- and affection-starved Stolas had always been honestly happy with even the most backhanded compliment and the implications almost make Blitz want to kill a bitch.
More than he already does.
As expected, Stolas beams at Blitz, his whole posture straightening out of its slump like a flower unfolding towards the sun. The prince smiles coquettishly and tilts his head. His four eyes are radiant in the dark interior of the car. “I am sure I have no idea what you mean, dear Blitzy.”
Blitz snorts despite himself. Stolas looks like sex on legs even more than he usually does. He’s wearing some fancy ass cape that shimmers like the stars and a tight skirt that does not leave much to the imagination. The cream colored shirt hugs his body in all the right places and the fluff of feathers on his chest enticingly escapes the open and ruffled neckline like a fucking treat just waiting to get devoured. The heavy and glittery eye makeup, colors matching the cape, is just the cherry on top, making those fiery eyes pop. The whole get-up is effortlessly classy and sexy at the same time. Blitz wasn’t lying; he’ll probably have to fend off horny bastards all night.
Blitz on the other hand is wearing his usual outfit. The only difference is that Millie had insisted on washing and ironing his coat and at least sewing the bigger bullet holes shut. All in all, he feels seriously underdressed next to Stolas.
Which was kinda the point.
“Yeah, yeah,” he snarks. “I know you! I bet you have written whole roleplays about being the damsel in distress at a party, rescued by his strong and capable bodyguard. Probably watched that human movie a few times in preparation, didn’t you? That’s why you have been singing that cheesy love song in the shower the last few days, right?”
Stolas laughs and doesn’t deny a thing, the cheeky bastard. “I do feel very safe in your strong and capable hands.” He stares at Blitz with an intensity that makes the imp squirm in his seat. He hates when Stolas gives him his full attention like that. He also craves the feeling it gives him more and more which is stupid and contradictory but what else is new with Blitz? “But I did not dress my best tonight for anyone but you. I hope you know that.”
Blitz scoffs and the sound is a bit too bitter, the smile a bit too dishonest. Shit. He averts his eyes, a weakness he only allows himself because they are alone in the back of their car and he knows for a fact that their chauffeur will not dare to eavesdrop on them. He’s made the consequences of that very clear before even getting into the pompous thing.
He wants to fill the silence with something snarky, maybe even something hurtful because he is who he is and his stupid mouth has always run ahead of him before his head can tell it to shut the fuck up.
Thankfully Stolas has gotten better at Blitz 101 and doesn’t let the uncomfortable silence linger. He folds himself in a way that shouldn’t be possible in the tight space and nimbly crosses the distance, squeezing himself into the same seat as Blitz. The imp is pushed against the car door, one side of his face pressed against feathers and leather. He smells Stolas, that unique scent that sometimes won’t leave his nose for days. Stolas drapes his legs over his own and just like that Blitz is truly trapped. He knows the guy would let him wiggle free without too much prompting but he also knows that Stolas needs this as much as he does. The weight and the suffocating closeness would have sent him running a few months ago. Now it just grounds him, allows him to surrender and relax.
“Are you sure you are okay with this?” Stolas whispers into his ear.
Blitz rolls his eyes. He is still staring out the window and he can see Stolas’ face mirrored there, distorted slightly by the reflections of the lights outside as they pass them by. It’s easier looking at him like that. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? This was my idea.”
“I’m okay with whatever makes you comfortable.”
Which is such a fucking Stolas thing to say it makes Blitz’s blood boil! Stupid bird and his stupid consideration and patience and love and… Fuck!
Maybe he shouldn't have come.
***************************
“No!”
Blitz paces in Stolas’ bedroom. The topic of their discussion, an official invitation to a fancy fundraiser at an infamous hotel, is getting seriously crumpled between his sharp claws and shaking fists.
“Blitz-”
“You must be out of your fucking mind!”
Stolas is sitting on his bed with his legs crossed delicately over one another. He looks like serenity personified but Blitz can see the way he presses his beak into a thin line to hide an unhappy tilt and the way his two upper eyes don’t blink. The imp wants to feel guilty about that but he is also too keyed up to feel anything but annoyance. Fucking bird completely blindsided him with this. It’s like the fucking crystal all over again.
“Why would I not want my partner with me at this event?”
Blitz bites his lip and continues his pacing. That word rings in his head and he can feel a headache coming on but he keeps himself from snapping.
He is Stolas’ partner, his equal, no matter how much he still can’t believe it. No matter how much he still thinks sometimes that the Goetia is just playing with him, still sees him as this impish plaything, ready to throw him away the moment he finds someone better. It’s difficult to stop thinking like that when he’d done nothing but for so long.
After the whole shitshow with the crystal and their brief break up and Stolas’ implosion of a fucked up marriage that almost culminated in both of them dying, they had cleared the air as much as two fuckers who never learned how to properly communicate could and decided to give this a shot. A real shot. Complete with healthy communications and adult discussions about boundaries and all that shit.
One of the very first things Stolas had spent a disproportionate amount of time on had been his attempts to convince Blitz that what he wants and what they are going to have from now on will be a proper relationship.
No more transactional fucking. Only fucking with feelings.
Partners. Lovers.
A freaking couple.
Blitz does his best to ignore how that makes him feel. How everytime Stolas refers to him as his boyfriend or as his significant other something unfurls in his chest that hurts and that soothes the hurt at the same time. He’s only been able to call Stolas his boyfriend a few times and only in the presence of their close friends and family and he feels so fucking bad about it when he sees the way Stolas lights up every time.
He desperately wants to be better at this. He wants to be able to acknowledge their new status outside of their tight circle so badly, wants to claim Stolas as his own openly. Wants everyone to take one look at them and just know that they belong together.
But every time he tries there is a blockage right there at the base of his throat, choking him. And there are voices in his head, the voices of everyone he’s ever disappointed or hurt, asking him if he seriously believes that he deserves this? If he seriously believes that someone like Stolas could want someone like him? A fuck up. A stupid, thoughtless, cruel imp. The voices keep asking him if he honestly believes that he won’t fuck this up the first chance he gets, won’t leave Stolas worse off than if he’d never met him?
And Blitz won't answer them because he knows the answer.
Blitz ruins things. That’s just a fact.
And the last thing he wants to do is ruin Stolas.
The bird is so patient about all of this and Blitz doesn’t deserve any of it and he wants to be deserving of it so bad that he is willing to do almost anything.
But going to that party as Stolas' official boyfriend? Impossible.
“Take Via!” he snaps. “Teenagers love parties, don’t they?” Satan knows Loona seems to get invited to one every weekend now that she is buddy buddy with that Tex guy and his girlfriend. Not that Loona is a teenager anymore but the way she was locked up during her formative years she might as well be. If she wants to act like a teenager in her early twenties to make up for lost time Blitz is more than happy to let her.
“Octavia is solely uninterested in functions like this-”
“Smart girl.”
“-and I would much rather go with you.”
“Why?” It comes out way too desperate and vulnerable and it reveals way too much about Blitz and that just makes him even more mad. “Don’t answer! Don’t care! Find someone else. Ask Moxxie, he’d probably cream his pants for a chance like this, the little asslicker.”
Stolas just keeps staring at him, his eyes still and steady. It is fucking unnerving and for a moment Blitz misses the times when he could have just given him the finger and climbed out the balcony without having to fear any repercussions or hurt feelings.
No he doesn’t.
“Are you ashamed to be seen with me?”
“Bitch you know I’m not!” Blitz explodes and the moment he sees the look on Stolas’ face he knows that he’s walked right into a trap. He sighs and walks over, jumping up so he can sit next to his lover on the bed. “You know I’m not,” he repeats cause it feels like something he needs to repeat, not just for Stolas’ sake but his own as well.
The owl demon relaxes, a small smile curling his beak. It looks sad. “I know, dear. Please talk to me.”
Blitz starts to fiddle with his hands, a sure sign that he is slowly losing the battle with his own anxiety. But he is not done fighting yet. In a last bid, a last rearing up against the inevitable, he leans closer and lets his hand wander up the inside of Stolas’ leg. “Talk is overrated, Birdie. Wouldn’t you rather use that mouth for something more fun?”
Stolas shudders and for one sweet second Blitz thinks he might have successfully averted the nauseating heart-to-heart but then his hand gets caught and trapped against the thigh he’d been fondling. It is meant to be restraining but it just feels like an anchor.
When he looks up it’s to see Stolas giving him an unimpressed glare. The bird has grown so much better at asserting his needs and putting his foot down, which is kinda hot but also real fucking annoying in moments like these.
“Talk.”
Blitz… is tired.
“Come on, Stols. This is not a trip to LooLoo Land or one of your stupid picnics or whatever! This is a party with nobles and Sins and it’s at that fucking Hotel that Lucifer’s spawn owns! You remember Lucifer? The king of pretty much everything?”
“I am aware. And his daughter Charlotte is quite a lovely girl if I remember correctly. But I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”
It is Blitz's turn to give Stolas a look that makes the owl squirm in his seat.
One of Blitz's demands during their pre-relationship ‘How the fuck do we make this work?’ discussions, had been for Stolas to stop patronizing him. No matter how much the prince has initially denied ever doing so they both know that he’d been guilty of that more than once in their turbulent acquaintance.
‘Don’t talk down to me! Don’t make me feel even more stupid than I already do !’ Blitz had demanded and almost immediately regretted it when he’d seen the heartbroken look on Stolas face.
“Forgive me.” Stolas says now and presses his beak against Blitz's forehead. How something like that can feel firm and soft at the same time will probably always remain a mystery. “I don’t mean to act obtuse. I… I do understand your concerns and they are valid, darling. An Ars Goetia and an imp attending a high profile function like this as a couple… it would cause…quite a stir.”
Understatement of the centuries.
“But I heard Asmodeus will attend as well and bring your friend FizzaRolli. If they can-”
“You know it’s not the same.” Blitz interrupts. “Oz is a sin and Fizz is a freaking celebrity in his own right with a fan base and everything so no one the big guy has to be embarrassed about and don’t you dare tell Fizz I said that. His head is big enough as it is. Point is, nobody would dare question them. They have a freaking couple's name for Satan’s sake! The media loves them.”
“Blitz.” Stolas squeezes his hand and doesn’t stop tilting his head until he has caught Blitz’s eyes. There is something fierce and tortured in his gaze and Blitz just knows that he’s made a mistake somewhere. “I am not embarrassed by you. I am not!”
Without his doing, their night at Ozzie’s from almost a year ago flashes through Blitz’s mind.
Blitz knows that a lot has changed since then. He knows and he believes Stolas and yet…
And yet.
Wide eyes showing nothing but shame, head turning left and right in a panic before hiding behind a tacky menu held up by shaking fingers. A pit forming in his stomach at the sight, wishing the ground would open up, swallow him whole and never spit him out again .
And that had been a fucking mid nightclub (sorry not sorry Fizz) with some horny nobodies gawking.
Blitz stares at the crumpled invitation, fancy font he can barely read printed on paper that probably costs more than his entire outfit.
This… this would be so much worse.
He shakes his head.
It would be better if Stolas got angry. Or disappointed. Or even just openly sad. Instead he merely sighs and smiles, resigned.
“I understand. I admit that this is probably not the right event to introduce you as my… to introduce you properly. Maybe something smaller would be better.” He sighs again but his hand is careful and tender as it scratches at the spot Blitz loves right where his horn meets his head. The sensation never fails to relax Blitz but today the loving attention just leaves him feeling like the scum of hell. “It’s just too bad I’ll have to go alone. I really would have enjoyed your company.”
“Who says you have to miss out on that?” Blitz asks past the lump in his throat. “I can still come with you. As your bodyguard.”
“My bodyguard?”
“That bitch ex of yours is still sending assassins your way, isn’t she? By the way you really gotta let me kill her already, it’s getting annoying and I’m wasting a lot of ammo on those fuckers.”
“She’s still Via’s mother.” Stolas says absentmindedly. Blitz wonders if he’s aware of how little love is lost between Via and her mother after that disaster of a divorce. The imp is honestly not sure Via would really be as against a permanent solution as Stolas seems to think she is. Then again, it has proven much easier for Via to confess her dark and murdery thoughts to Loona and her very, very, very morally ambiguous father than to prim and diplomatic Stolas who is very much willing and able to overlook his ex trying to kill him if it means his daughter still has a mother.
But that’s a problem for another time. Stella is thankfully stupid enough to only hire the dumbest shits in all of hell. Or maybe she is just cheap.
“As my bodyguard, you say.” Stolas keeps caressing Blitz’s horn and the imp holds his breath in anticipation. Maybe Stolas is angry after all and doesn’t want him there if not as his boyfriend. Maybe his suggestion is presumptuous considering that he basically turned Stolas’ invitation down not even a minute ago.
But then his boyfriend is smirking. The melancholy has left his eyes and he leans down so he can rub his face against Blitz’s cheek. “Well, as my bodyguard you would have to stay by my side the whole night. Guarding my back. Doing everything I say, being at my beck and call. You think you can handle that, darling?”
Blitz smirks right back, relief making him so lightheaded he feels like he is about to float off the bed. He pushes Stolas on his back and straddles him, one of his hands lightly resting at the base of his slender neck. “You would like that, huh? Bossing me around all night? Well, better get the most out of it because at the end of the night we will end up right back here and then I’ll show you who's giving the orders.”
Stolas janks him down into a kiss. “I can’t wait.”
****************************
Maybe they should have talked a bit more about this before falling back on their favorite pastime but oh well.
‘I’m ok with whatever makes you comfortable’ Stolas has said and if that doesn’t push the knife permanently lodged in Blitz's heart even deeper he doesn’t know what will.
Stolas is making a lot of concessions for him tonight. Letting him attend as his bodyguard, letting him set the pace. The least Blitz can do is be honest and take at least a little bit of the burden off of Stolas’ shoulders.
Hey, look at him! Thinking of someone else for a change! Where is his fucking gold star?
“I want to be here with you,” he says and tries to ignore how surprised Stolas looks at that. He shouldn’t be surprised but has Blitz really given him reason not to be? “I look forward to tonight. Maybe we can sneak away once in a while for a quick quickie, eh? Maybe do it in the king’s bedroom.”
He is mostly joking but the idea is fucking sexy. A bit dangerous, a lot stupid. Just how they like it.
He watches Stolas chuckle for a moment and almost leaves it at that.
“I’m just ner-… I just don’t want to…Fuck.” He squirms in his seat and snarls. “I just want us to have a good time tonight, alright? Despite…everything. Got it?”
Stolas presses closer to him, almost smothering him against the door. “I want that too. And don’t worry. I have attended a lot of parties just like this with Stella. You cannot do worse than her.”
Blitz can’t help but flinch. It feels like a jinx. He can do worse, he knows he can, because there is not a low he hasn’t managed to reach yet. Blitz is a champion when it comes to hitting rock bottom and finding out that there is still farther to go for someone like him.
Admittedly, Stella has probably set the bar very fucking low but Blitz knows how to do the limbo, baby.
Feathery hands grip his face and force him to look, really look, at Stolas. The owl demon’s eyes glitter with guilt. “Let me rephrase that.” He litters Blitz's face with small kisses with every other word. “You won’t do worse. Simply having you here, at my side, is already a vast improvement, no matter what else the night might bring. Thank you so much for being here with me.”
Blitz allows himself one shuddering breath before he stops Stolas’ affectionate kisses by grabbing him by the scruff and shoving his tongue down the bird's throat. After a kiss that feels like hours he pushes him away but only far enough to press their foreheads together.
“Course I’m here.” And because that sounds way too sappy he quickly adds: “Free booze and a first row ticket to watching that ass in that tight skirt all night? Where else would I be?”
Blitz revels in Stolas’ helpless laughter but all too soon he can feel the car slowing down. He dimly hears the sounds of a crowd outside and a look through the darkened windows reveals that they are pulling up in front of the hotel.
Blitz shoves at Stolas until the bird gets the message and returns to his own seat across the aisle. Bodyguard and client do not sit that close together.
Their chauffeur has walked around the limousine and starts to pull open their door and Blitz is quick to scurry out first, keeping his eyes on Stolas the entire time so he doesn’t have to look at the crowd gaping at the famous guest. He stops next to the open door and gives the driver a not so subtle kick to get him out of the way. He holds out his hand and Stolas takes it and allows the imp to help him unfold from the confines of the car. That’s something bodyguards do, isn’t it? Gentlemen bodyguards anyway. And with his professional attire, the gun clearly visible in his waistband and the fact that he is just some lowly imp, no one will mistake him for anything else.
Of course not.
Stolas gives his hand a gentle squeeze before he lets go and approaches the open doors of the infamous Hazbin Hotel with long and elegant strides. Blitz follows a professional two steps behind.
This will be fine, he thinks. It is not the first time he has acted as Stolas’ bodyguard and it will bring them a lot less attention than arriving as a couple would have. There is press gathered around the entrance, taking pictures of everyone that's arriving. They are pretty much salivating at the sight of the goetian prince and Blitz realizes that this is his boyfriend’s first public appearance since the divorce.
The cameras go crazy trying to get a good pic of Stolas while completely ignoring Blitz, the unassuming imp walking in his shadows.
And that’s fine, he tells himself. That’s how he wants it.
“Showtime,” he mutters under his breath and follows his boyfriend into the fray.