Chapter Text
- -Doo-doo-doot- -
Blitzø glanced up from his screen at Stolas' phone face-down on the table. It was ringing again. Across from him, Stolas turned a page in his legal pad and continued jotting down notes, ignoring the soft, insistent beeping. They had been sitting in Blitzø's kitchen after supper, poring over housing ads in three different newspapers and online for more than an hour, and Stolas had been ignoring his phone for half of it.
- -Doo-doo-doot- -
It wasn't loud or obnoxious, but even the most subtle ringtone could be grating when you had to listen to it for thirty goddamn minutes.
- -Doo-doo-doot- -
"She's not gonna stop calling," Blitzø finally spoke up.
"I have nothing to say to her," Stolas replied, peering at one of the papers.
"Why don't you block her number?"
"Unfortunately, she does need to be able to contact me about Octavia." Stolas frowned and jotted down some more notes.
- -Doo-doo-doot- -
Blitzø drummed his heels at the front rung of his chair. "I'll answer it, then. I've got plenty to say to that bitch."
"Don't you dare!" Stolas glanced up sharply. "I will not have you get into a screaming match with her. And yes, Blitzø, you know that is exactly how it would go. The stress would not be good for you or the babies."
With a sigh, Blitzø turned back to his own phone, scrolling through apartment listings, each one shittier than the last.
- -Doo-doo-doot- -
Blitzø groaned. "Doesn't she have anything better to do? I can't focus with that fucking beeping in my ears."
- -Doo-doo-doot- -
"That's it, I'm answering." Blitzø reached for the phone, but Stolas slapped his hand down on it first.
"Fine," Stolas huffed. "I will simply tell her to stop calling unless it is about Octavia. And if she persists, I will have to involve the authorities."
Blitzø managed to hold in a derisive snort. Barely. What fucking help would "the authorities" be?
Stolas tapped the answer button and raised the phone to his ear.
"I do not wish to speak with you, Stella," he said, his voice clipped. "I had hoped you would take the hint that–" He cut off as a shrill screech shot through the phone's speaker.
Stolas' ex-wife was screaming so loudly, Blitzø could hear every word even with the speakerphone off.
"—cannot believe you, Stolas! Of all the shitty, selfish things to do! How could you let it go so far?"
"Me!?" Stolas cried in disbelief. "How could I have let it go so far? I didn't ask for any of this!"
"Your father gave you every chance to apologize, to mend the damage you did to his reputation, the damage you did to my reputation!" the harpy shrieked. "It's killing him to have to cut you off, but you don't even care about that! You just couldn't swallow your pride to repair your marriage and become a useful member of the family for once in your pathetic, fucking life!"
"I cannot repair a marriage that was never whole in the first place, Stella," Stolas protested, but his ex barreled on without acknowledging his words.
"I always thought you would come to your senses but it's too fucking late now, isn't it? Do you have any idea what you have thrown away? How powerful we could have been together? The strides we could have made for society, a high-profile lesbian couple paving the way into the Fortune 500 executive boys club for women and gays everywhere!"
Blitzø lowered his own phone, glowering. The fucking audacity of this bitch!
"I am not a woman," Stolas spoke firmly. "I am–"
"You can't just cut off your hair and tits and put on a fucking suit as if that changes who you are," Stella interrupted.
Blitzø felt his temperature rising. It wasn't his ex, it wasn't his conversation, it wasn't his place to butt in. But if she said one more fucking word…
"I don't have to liste–" Stolas tried to break in, his voice shaky.
"And if you were going to pretend to be a man," she sneered, "at least you could have pretended to be a normal man instead of the pathetic waste you've turned yourself into."
"Oh, that is fucking IT!" Blitzø snarled, lumbering to his feet and leaning as far as he could over the table. "You do not get to talk to him like that, skank!"
"Who the fuck is that, Stolas!?" Stella raged. "Is that the whore you replaced me with? That's right, I heard about her . I've seen pictures, too. A dirty, classless, knocked-up tranny leeching off your wealth. I'm glad your father cut you off so she won't get another dime!"
" He has more class than you have in your little finger!" Stolas shot back. "I have chosen my life, and you have chosen yours. It is over and done . Why do you insist on tormenting me?"
"Because I want to remind you of what you've done!" Stella's voice pitched low and dangerous, barely audible to Blitzø over the phone. "You are an embarrassment to your family and a traitor to your gender, and you will pay for it," she seethed.
Blitzø reached out a hand, trying to snatch the phone so he could grind her words back into her face and make her choke on them, but the line went silent.
Stolas laid the phone back onto the table, visibly shaken.
"There," he said weakly, then cleared his throat. "I answered. Perhaps now we can focus on finding an apartment so my daughter and I don't have to live in a cardboard box on the corner?"
Blitzø stared at him, struggling to reel back his temper. "Shit," he breathed. "I'm sorry, Stols. I…"
"It's all right, Blitzø. It's nothing I haven't heard before," Stolas remarked wearily, as if that made it okay. He picked up his pen and turned a newspaper over. "Please sit down, darling."
"Somebody should egg her car."
Blitzø jumped as Loona's voice floated from behind him.
"Fuck, don't sneak up on us like that, Loonie," he grumbled, setting back into his chair.
His beloved daughter rolled her eyes and breezed past them, opening the fridge to rummage around for a snack. Blitzø turned back to the listings on his phone, trying to wrench his focus back to the task at hand.
Stolas turned the page in his notebook, beginning to jot down another note, when he dropped the pen with a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"This is pointless, Blitzø!" he sighed. "Everything even remotely within budget on my current income is either a single bedroom or an obvious scam!"
Blitzø pursed his lips, glancing over at the couch that had been his bed for years. "Well, Stols, sometimes you just have to make it work. A one-bedroom isn't so bad when you–"
"Or," Loona cut in, then let the fridge door fall shut with a loud thump. She paused, ripping the foil top off a yogurt and spraying an obscene amount of whipped cream on top.
Blitzø waited while she snagged a spoon from the drainer, scooping up a generous bite.
"Well?" he finally asked. "Or what?"
Loona took another bite, unhurried. "Or the two of you could get a one-bedroom together,” she suggested, pointing her spoon at them.
”Us?” Blitzø asked.
She shrugged. ”Yeah. I mean, look at you, Dad. You can barely fit on the fucking couch anymore, and you can’t stay in the living room with a pair of newborns. You need a bedroom. I’d offer to switch with you, but—“
”Absolutely not,” Blitzø interrupted. “No fucking way.”
”—exactly." Loona took another bite of mostly whipped cream. "So, get a new place.”
Stolas massaged his forehead. “I don’t see how that solves anything, Loona,” he told her, frustrated. “Adding another person would just make the problem worse.”
”But you and Dad would share the bedroom,” Loona replied. “And you won't need a separate room for the babies for months."
"Okay but where the fuck would you and Via sleep then?" Blitzø demanded.
Loona shrugged. "Here."
Stolas lifted his head to stare at her. “What?”
Loona took another spoonful of yogurt. "Yeah. We've kinda been talking about it for a while, for when she goes to college. We can get some cheap bunk beds or something, wouldn't be any worse than a dorm room. We figured Dad would eventually move in with you, so, like…" She shrugged. "Why not now?"
"Oh, so you just assumed I would move in with my boyfriend?" Blitzø asked. Loona rolled her eyes and didn't answer.
"But Octavia is still underage," Stolas protested. "She has to live with me."
"Uh…no, she doesn't," Loona said flatly.
"I have custody," Stolas explained. "For now," he added bitterly under his breath
Loona grunted in annoyance. "She's seventeen. Sixteen and up, you can decide for yourself where you want to live."
"Yes," Stolas said with wearing patience, "and she chose me instead of her mother."
"No, you don't get it." Loona gestured with her spoon. "She can choose anywhere, not just between you two. At any time. She doesn't need the courts to say she can move." She scoffed as she resumed eating. "Did you really not know that?"
Stolas sat back in his chair, stunned. "Stella…Stella led me to believe…" he muttered.
Blitzø frowned, processing the new information. "What about your fancy-ass lawyer?" he asked Stolas. "Didn't he say anything?"
Stolas dropped his head into his hands. "It was my father's lawyer. I thought…" He groaned. "I foolishly assumed my father was on my side. I never questioned what his counsel was telling me. They leveraged Octavia against me to make a deal in Stella's favor. Heavily in her favor."
Blitzø frowned. "Your dad's lawyer lied to you about the custody thing so your ex could get all your shit, and then your dad cut you off the day the divorce finalized? That stinks like a fucking conspiracy."
Stolas paled at the implications. "She knew!" he muttered. "She knew all along what he was planning. That's why she kept pushing for my personal assets but not any of my company holdings. She wanted to make sure I had nothing left."
"Damn," Loona remarked.
Blitzø reached across the table to lay a hand on Stolas' arm, offering mute sympathy.
Stolas shook his head with a sigh. "It stings, but it truthfully makes no difference." He raised his head to look at Loona. "Octavia can live here with you and it won't affect the terms of the divorce?"
"Yeah." Loona shrugged. "Like, I don't know dick about divorce but I know about the rights of a seventeen year old kid."
A thought struck Blitzø suddenly. "Y ou were seventeen when I adopted you," he blurted. "So does that mean…you could have left the group home whenever you wanted?" An ugly, sneering voice whispered at the back of his mind. "You didn't…you didn't really need me?"
"Ugh!" Loona groaned, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, Dad. I could have left any time. I didn't because I had nowhere to fucking go." She shifted uncomfortably and looked into her yogurt cup, scraping the bottom with the spoon. "Eighteen isn't when you're allowed to leave; it's when you're not allowed to stay. You… gave me someplace to go."
Tears pricked at Blitzø's eyes as the whole past four years suddenly shifted. She had never been forced to stay with him. She could have gone off on her own at any time, but she chose to stay.
The clink of Loona's spoon hitting the sink pulled him out of his reverie.
"Okay, well… let me know what you dumbasses decide. I'm going to my room." Loona slouched away, snatching a half-empty package of cookies off the counter as she went.
"It… It does make sense," Stolas ventured when Loona's door closed.
"You'd want to live with me?" Blitzø asked.
"Of course!" Stolas replied. "That is, I mean, it does seem to be the most economical solution right now, and it would certainly be a better situation for you as your due date approaches."
"Mmmhmm." Blitzø pursed his lips in thought. Well, he'd given the guy an out, and besides, it only had to be long enough for Stolas to get on his feet. If he got tired of Blitzø all up in his space all the time, he was welcome to move later. "All right, let's do it. And you don't have to handle the rent by yourself; if I'm living there, I'm contributing what I can. That way, you can save up for a better place, too."
Stolas nodded in agreement. "If you insist, darling. Oh, this is exciting now!" He glanced down at the table, his smile falling at the sight of the papers. "But now we have to start all over again! There's only a week left, and I can't look while I'm working! I should turn in my resignation on Monday. I'm going to have to eventually anyway."
"That's a bad idea, Stolas. Any income helps right now," Blitzø tells him, jabbing a finger into the table. "You never quit until you have another job in the bag."
"But how am I supposed to look for a higher-paying job while I'm working all day?" Stolas asked helplessly.
Blitzø snorted. "Million-dollar question, babe. You just make it work."
Stolas frowned. "That doesn't seem like a very good system."
"Don't I know it." Blitzø rolled his eyes. "Look, let's take the time pressure off. We'll pack up your place over the weekend and get shit out of there. That way, you don't freeze up trying to finalize on a place by next week."
"But there's nowhere to put–"
"We can store stuff at the office until we get a place," Blitzø interrupted. "You and Via can squeeze in here while we lock in an apartment. It'll be tight, but it's just for a little while."
Stolas reached across the table for his hand.
"Thank you, Blitzø. I don't know how I would get through this without you."
"Yeah," Blitzø replied, laying his fingers in Stolas' palm. "You will, though. I promise."
"Black ball gag?" Blitzø asked, holding it up.
"Of course," Stolas replied, and Blitzø tossed it in the box.
"Blue ball gag?" Blitzø waved the item over his head as he sat on the floor of Stolas' bedroom. He had assembled the gang to help move, but some things were too important to delegate.
"Yes," Stolas answered as he rummaged through a drawer. Blitzø tossed the blue ball gag into the cardboard box labeled Sex Stuff for Stolas.
"Bit gag?" he asked.
"With the way you look at me when I'm wearing it?" Stolas replied. "Absolutely, darling."
The bit gag was in the box before Stolas even finished speaking.
"Ring gag?"
"Assume all the gags are a yes, dear," Stolas commented as he moved books from his shelf into another box.
"Even the red one that tastes like a middle-school dodgeball?" Blitzø held up the cheap restraint, a freebie sent with one of their other purchases.
Stolas looked over, brows raised. "No. I forgot we had that," he mused. "Should I be concerned you know what a middle-school dodgeball tastes like?"
Blitzø moved to put the gag in the "toss" box when something caught his eye.
"What is this, Stolas?" With a grunt, Blitzø leaned over to pull a little black and white toy from the toss box. It was roughly peanut-shaped, with a small round indent on one end. Of course, Blitzø had seen –and used– clit sucker toys before but this one…
"Is this a penguin?" he asked.
Stolas looked up, flushing. "It was an impulse purchase!"
Blitzø grinned, holding up the toy. "Hah! Look at his little bow tie! Why the fuck haven't I seen this one before?"
Stolas crossed to him and grabbed for it, but Blitzø pulled it back.
"I've never used it," Stolas said. "He's too cute; I just can't! It feels weird."
Blitzø waggled the penguin with a wicked grin. "Well if you don't want him, I don't mind a bird between my legs if he knows how to suck good dick."
"You mean ‘suck dick well’," Stolas corrected.
Blitzø flashed him a middle finger. “Fuck you, I mean my dick is good."
"Hmm, point taken," Stolas conceded. "Please put him back in the trash."
"No fucking way!" Blitzø clambered to his feet and shoved the toy in his pocket. "I'm keeping him. His name is X-acto Knife."
"Well, now I'm definitely not putting him anywhere near my clit." Stolas returned to packing, pulling clothes from his closet.
An exasperated shout made them both turn to the door.
"Are you two fooling around while the rest of us are out here actually working?"
"Unwind your bowtie, Moxx!" Blitzø shouted back. "Unless you wanna help me box up Stolas' frankly impressive collection of jeweled butt plugs."
"Sir!" Moxxie cried. "I did not need to know that!"
"Blitzø!" Stolas flapped a hand at him, trying hard not to laugh. "What if Octavia heard that?"
Blitzø steepled his fingers self-importantly. "Then she'd know her dad understands the importance of accessorizing to match your fit."
Stolas hooted with laughter. "You know, you really don't have to ask about every single item. You use them just as much as I do. Pack what you want and I will have a look in the toss box after to see if I want to save anything else."
"Got it," Blitzø replied. "Pony tail plug, come to Daddy!"
When Blitzø returned from putting the sex toys in the van, he found Stolas wrestling with a small potted tree in the living room.
"Whatcha doing, babe?" he asked.
"Oh!" Stolas straightened up, gesturing to the tree. "I-I thought it would help bring some life to our new home, wherever we end up. I'm sure we won't have room for all my plants, especially if we have limited storage while finding an apartment, but… I thought perhaps just one…"
Blitzø glanced at the row of leafy plants at the window, all healthy and lovingly cared for. He hadn't even thought of how Stolas would feel to leave them behind, to what was probably going to be a death sentence. Blitzø didn't know much about Stolas' old man, but he doubted the guy would care enough to keep the plants alive. He looked back at his boyfriend. He looked so damn sad and hopeful at the same time, those big red-brown eyes tugging Blitzø's heart. Blitzø smiled warmly at him.
"That's a great idea, Stols! Uh, what is it?"
"It's a lemon tree!" Stolas beamed and gently ran a finger over its leaves. "It isn't in season right now, but with proper care, it will even bear fruit!"
"That little thing?" Blitzø nodded thoughtfully. "Huh. Never would have guessed. You know, though… a fruit-bearing lemon tree is just asking for whores."
"Whores?" Stolas blinked at him, confused.
Blitzø broke into a grin. "Yeah!" He gestured with a hand. "Everybody knows whores love to steal lemons!"
"Oh, I see." Stolas giggled. "Well, we wouldn't want that. What should we do about the lemon-stealing whores?"
"Uhh… we can make a sign." Blitzø glanced about, his gaze landing on a nearby cardboard box. "Here," Blitzø ripped a panel off the top and pulled a marker from his pocket. Scribbling "no whores" on it, he propped it up in the dirt at the tree's base. "That should do it."
Stolas stepped up beside Blitzø, bending over slightly to read the sign. "No whores. Well, it certainly is a clear message, but can whores read?"
"Sure!" Blitzø replied slyly. "You can, can't you?"
"Blitzy!" Stolas swatted at his shoulder with a scandalized laugh. "Does this mean I should be out stealing lemons?"
"Pft, nah. That's why we've got the tree. Home-grown whore lemons." Blitzø stretched, arching his back as well as he could. "I'd help you with it, but y'know." He gestured at his belly. "Already carrying a couple freeloaders."
"Oh, I'm sure I can manage," Stolas commented. "It's not really that heavy, just awkward to hold."
"That's what he said," Blitzø shot quickly.
Stolas giggled again, the pretty smile on his face almost enough to make Blitzø forget the ache in his back. Almost.
"Hey," he spoke up, an idea sparking in his head. "Can you get behind me and, like… hold my belly?"
"Certainly!" Stolas replied, stepping behind Blitzø and wrapping his arms around him, placing his hands gently on his round belly.
"No, no, not like that," Blitzø said. " Hold it. Like, fucking lift it up."
"Oh!" Stolas slid his hands underneath his belly and pulled up, taking the weight of it in his hands. "Like this?"
The relief was immediate, a literal weight off his back.
"Yeah, like that. Fuck," Blitzø groaned, dropping his head back into Stolas' shoulder. He hadn't realized just how heavy it was. "Just hold it like that for a minute. God, I forgot how it feels to not have this fucking belly."
"It does seem quite heavy," Stolas remarked.
"Yeah, no shit," Blitzø replied. He sighed and leaned back against Stolas, feeling the other man return the pressure. "The worst part is, it's not just heavy. It doesn't move with me, it's always lagging just a little bit, fucking up my balance and shit. Doesn't even really feel like part of my body. It's like… like a giant fucking water balloon strapped to me. Some weird alien thing that doesn't belong on me."
"Well, that's not entirely inaccurate," Stolas remarked, shifting his hands and lifting Blitzø's belly a little bit higher. "Most of this is not part of your body. It's two completely separate little people."
"Wow," Blitzø breathed. He'd never actually thought of it like that before. "That's… reeeeally fucking creepy, Stolas."
Stolas chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Well, creepy or not, please feel free to ask me to hold your babies whenever you like, dearest," he murmurs.
The slam of a door made Blitzø jump, and he looked up to see Octavia stomping down the short hall carrying a large box. Her face was fixed in a petulant scowl, and Blitzø could hear the screaming guitar leaking from her headphones. The teen stalked past them without a glance, kicking open the front door and marching down the hallway towards the elevator.
"I… take it she's not happy?" Blitzø remarked.
Stolas sighed. "She did not take the news well, no. I've done what I can to reassure her, but I'm afraid there is not much I can say."
"Mmmhmm," Blitzø mused, then pushed out of Stolas' arms. "Well, gotta get back to work! You stay with the whore tree; I bet Mils can help you when she gets back up here. I'm gonna take…" Blitzø grabbed the nearest box, found it too heavy for him to lift comfortably, and grabbed the next one. "This down. I'll be back in a jiffy!"
He was out the door before Stolas could protest.
Blitzø caught up to Octavia at the van, just shoving her box into the back as Moxxie and Millie headed back inside. Blitzø set his own box on the sidewalk and stood in her way, fists planted on his hips.
"Move," she muttered, scowling.
"Okay, what the fuck is your problem?" Blitzø asked. "You're acting like your whole world is burning down, but I thought you wanted to live with Loona. Made secret plans behind our backs and everything, apparently."
Octavia glared at him. "Not like this!" she cried. "I didn't want it like this . I didn't want to be kicked out of my home!" She stabbed a finger at Blitzø. "I thought you were going to move in here with my dad, and I would stay with Loona for college and… and everything would still be here ."
A flare of irritation clawed at Blitzø's throat. "Oh, I see. You wanted a safety net. You wanted to be able to run back to your fancy apartment whenever slumming it got boring. Well, some of us don't get that option, so sorry you're just finding that out, princess." The teen opened her mouth, but Blitzø charged on. "Yeah, playing at being poor is all fun and games until you have to be, huh? Oh, and newsflash! You're not even actually poor! You just have to suck it up for a few years until your trust unlocks. Your dad has lost everything! Do you understand that? While you're bitching and moaning about having to spend the next four years doing what you had already planned on doing anyway , Stolas has to figure out what the hell he's going to do for the rest of his life."
"I don't have to listen to this," Octavia said coldly. "You don't get to lecture me; you're not my dad." She brushed past him, stomping towards the building doors.
"Yeah?" Blitzø called after her. "Well, maybe not, but I'm the leaseholder of your home for the foreseeable future, so show me a little damn respect!"
By the time Millie came down with the lemon tree so Blitzø could leave the van, his annoyance had mostly receded. Maybe he'd been too hard on Octavia. She'd needed to hear it, but… maybe that hadn't been the right time. Back in the apartment, her bedroom door was shut, and he could hear the dull thud and scrape of things being moved around. Blitzø found Stolas in the living room, staring absently at a fancy mirrored display on the wall filled with rough, glittering crystals.
"You had words with her?" Stolas asked quietly.
Blitzø sucked a breath through his teeth. "Yeeeah. Sorry. I didn't really mean to, I just…"
"It's all right. I'm sure you didn't say anything out of line."
It didn't sound like a question, but Blitzø answered anyway. "No, but I probably could have been nicer about it. She's having a rough time."
Stolas nodded, turning back to the display with a troubled frown.
"You, uh… want a hand packing up the rocks?" Blitzø asked.
Stolas reached out a graceful hand, tripping his fingers lightly over the faceted edges of the crystals. "I started collecting as a teenager," he commented. "Just common amethyst and rose quartz at first, but I sought out more priceless pieces as I got older. One of the few hobbies of mine that Stella tolerated, because they look beautiful and opulent." He touched a finger to a moss-green stone with a ridged and bubbly texture. "Some of these are quite rare. Really, it is an impressive collection, by anyone's standards."
Stolas drew in a breath. "Stella got them in the divorce agreement. I'm sure she will sell them for far less than they're worth. I don't care. I only want this one." He picked up a small rock nestled near the back, plain gray, river-smoothed and irregularly shaped, with a wavy pink line through the center.
"Do you see?" Stolas held it out to Blitzø. "It's shaped like a heart."
"All this, and you want that one?" He watched Stolas absently stroke the stone with his thumb, tracing the pink with a habitual gesture. "It's Via's rock, isn't it?" Blitzø asked. "The one that means 'I love you, Dad'?"
Stolas nodded. "It is worth more to me than all the rest combined. It's precious, priceless." He turned it over in his palm. "I thought I would do anything for her. But when it came down to it, I chose myself, didn't I?"
"Hey, no!" Blitzø reached out, taking his hands. "You did what you had to, Stolas. Via is upset right now, but she'll get over it. She doesn't need this apartment and all this stuff. What she needs is her dad, happy and healthy. You can't take care of her if you're being pulled to pieces by your tyrant dad and harpy wife. Ex -wife," he corrected with venom. He opened their hands and looked down at the rock, Via's heart cradled between the two of them. "We'll find a good spot for it in our home," he promised.
"Absolutely not, Blitzø!" Stolas balked, clutching at the pillow and sheet Blitzø had shoved into his arms. "You're pregnant. I am not kicking you out of your bed!"
"It's a couch and it has not been doing my back any favors lately," Blitzø replied, pulling a clean blanket from the basket and adding it to the pile Stolas was holding. "I promise, the beanbag is actually better right now. Besides, we'll find a place in no time, and then we'll have your fancy-ass bed again. Well, mattress, anyway." Unfortunately, the bitch ex had gotten the bedframe in the divorce, too.
Stolas eyed him skeptically. "Well, all right. If you're sure." He followed Blitzø over to the couch, holding the bedding as Blitzø fluffed the cushions to make it as comfortable as possible. A bit of gray fabric poked up from between the cushions, and Stolas tugged it out.
"Where should I put this, Blitzø?" he asked.
"Hmm?" Blitzø turned to look at it. "Oh, just–" he broke off as both of them realized at the same time what Solas was holding.
“Is this… my t-shirt?" Stolas asked. "You had it this whole time!?”
Blitzø shrugged with a nervous grin. “Oh, yeah, I guess it is. You must have left it here at some point.” The day he showed Blitzø how to tape, that first day he'd taken off his shirt, a day that was burned into Blitzø's memory. He totally hadn't fallen asleep multiple times clutching that shirt. Blitzø took the sheet from Stolas and turned to spread it over the couch, feigning disinterest. “Yeah, it's comfy as shit.”
“Yes, I know ," Stolas commented. "I've been looking for it! I thought it got lost in the laundry.”
“It's just a plain gray t-shirt." Blitzø placed the pillow at one end of the couch. "How'd you even realize it was missing?”
“Because it's my best one!" Stolas gestured with the hand holding the shirt. "It's the one with the printed-on tag and the soft shoulder seams, it's thinner material than typical, and it falls at exactly the right place on my hips.”
Well shit, now Blitzø was starting to feel guilty for keeping it. ”Couldn’t you get a new one?”
”I tried that. The manufacturer changed the cut; it’s not the same.”
”Damn, I didn’t know it was so important to you.”
”It…” Stolas sighed. “It’s not. Not really." He sank to the edge of the couch, looking at the shirt in his hands. "It’s just a shirt. I’m not upset; I just get…attached to things I like.”
Blitzø placed a kiss on the top of his head. “Well, that makes it important to you. I’m glad you’ve got it back.”
Stolas nodded, but he didn't seem happy. "It doesn't matter. None of it truly matters."
Blitzø frowned. "Hey, hey, what? What doesn't matter?"
"All of it!" Stolas cried. "All my stuff, my piles of meaningless stuff! All I've done with my life is collect stuff and wait to take over my father's company. And now it's all gone and I find that there is nothing left of me without it. I have no purpose. I don't even know who I am anymore."
"Stolas…" Blitzø carefully lowered himself to sit next to Stolas and lean into him. "You are a great dad," he told him. "A great boyfriend, a … well, a decent driver. A terrible cook. A sexy as shit man…" Stolas chuckled. "Look, the point is, there's a lot to you besides just stuff. And you're gonna get through this. You'll find a new purpose, a better one. One you want. You just gotta take it day by day." Blitzø patted the back of Stolas' hand. "Now get some sleep. We'll give the place a last look over tomorrow, maybe sneak some sardines into the air vent as a parting gift, and then we'll come back here and I'll make us all a special dinner to celebrate."
"You're going to cook?" Stolas asked.
"Hey, I can totally cook!" Blitzø protested. "I just usually choose not to. Except for pancakes, fucking love pancakes."
"Is the special dinner going to be pancakes?"
"No, smartass." Blitzø grinned proudly. "I've got a patented clean-the-plate recipe. You're gonna love it!"
"The goddamn motherfucker is lactose intolerant!"
It was Monday morning, and Blitzø was shouting from the driver's seat of the van before M&M even had the door all the way open.
Millie paused, startled. "Who?"
"My fucking boyfriend, who the fuck else?" Blitzø waved an impatient hand at her, and she climbed in.
"Is… that a problem?" Moxxie asked hesitantly, following behind.
"YES!" Blitzø replied. "Because I made my extra special five cheese fettu-fucking-alfredo and he didn't say a goddamn word until I had to ask if he was feeling okay because he spent so fucking long in the bathroom."
"You've spent practically every day together for months," Loona commented from the passenger seat. "How did you not know?"
"It's not like he fucking talks about it!" Blitzø shot back. "And he seems like the kind of guy who just likes oat milk better."
"To be fair, oat milk is delicious," Moxxie remarked, shutting the door.
Blitzø threw up a hand. "Exactly! How the fuck was I supposed to know?" He checked his mirrors, grumbling to himself. "I'm probably gonna have to buy special formula now, dammit. As if babies weren't already expensive enough."
"Uh...why would you need special formula?" Millie asked.
Blitzø frowned. "Isn't that shit geneti— oh." He could fucking kick himself. "Right."
"You… know they ain't his, right?" Millie's voice was tinged with something. Concern? Pity?
"Yeah, thanks, Mills, I got it!" Blitzø snapped, throwing the van into gear. "Let's get the fuck to work."