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Blitz was used to chaos, he really was. Blood on his clothes, people trying to kill him from all different directions, blowing brains off, he was good at that. But this kind? He never got used to the type of chaos that forces you to talk, or the one where at least you should try to.
Stolas and him stopped talking a week and a half ago, over some stupid misunderstanding that kept them yelling at each other for hours before they decided it was finally enough. They still had to share the living room together, still co–existed just fine, so they were still together. Just not really.
Blitz had noticed little changes in the owl, like him turning around in the sofa more than usual, unable to sleep. Or maybe the fact that he’d eat maybe a granola bar every six hours, and it was worrying. But he wouldn’t do more than tell Loona or Millie to check up on him, his hubris winning over every time he thought about speaking to Stolas.
Either way, none of that mattered now that Loona was yelling at him on the phone to come back to the office right now because Stolas had collapsed on the floor. Panic took not even a second to set in, and the guilt was eating away at his bones.
“Wha—What the fuck you mean he just collapsed?” The Imp’s immediate reaction to fear was anger, survival instinct, he guessed.
“Dad I don’t know, I don’t know what to do. He’s not responding to me and he’s not moving, I think he’s passed out.” With every ounce in his being Blitz wanted to smash his phone against the closest wall and succumb to the panic, he’s breath hitching and skin itching. Everything was too damn much and there was still some fucking asshole out there they had to kill.
Millie quickly realizes what’s happening, she puts her hand in Blitz’s shoulder and speaks up. “We’ll take over this one, go take care of the bird, don’t worry about it.” He wanted to protest, to make himself useful in both situations, break himself apart.
“Sir, we’ll be fine, it’s an easy one. Just go.” Moxxie joins in, reassuring him as well. He knew they’d be fine, he hired them after all. But there was a side of him that was deeply frustrated with the fact that this was happening, that he couldn’t just do his job and go back to the routine that Stolas and him had for the last couple days. It’s easier to ignore a problem than to solve it, he thought.
As he fought for the portal to open, overwhelmed by all that was happening around him, he couldn’t help but think about all the times he should’ve told Stolas he was sorry. How he was a jealous idiot who misunderstood what he said, how he didn’t even fully remember the reason for his anger anymore. But the guilt really came crashing down on him like an avalanche when he walked into his office to find Stolas on the floor immobilized.
Paler than usual, hands completely relaxed as the rest of his body, a quill in one of them. The ink splashed around the floor reminded him of Stolas’ own blood too much for his liking, “Stolas! How many times did Loona tell you to stop working yourself to the ground?!” There was no answer to his desperate reprimand.
He puts his ears closer to his chest, just to confirm he is still alive. He can’t lose him—not again. But the knowledge that the bird is still breathing does not calm his nerves. He threw the keys of the van at Loona, “Go turn it on! Right fucking now!” If Loona didn’t know her dad, she’d be worried sick he was angry with her as well. But she did know him, so she took not a minute more to run outside and turn on the van, knowing he was right behind her with the bird in his arms.
They didn’t know what was wrong, and it was killing them. She sat behind with Stolas, to check on his breathing and make sure he’d be okay. Blitz was running every single red light, yelling obscenities at whoever took a second too long to get out his way, trying to bring himself power he did not have. Stolas could die in the back of his car right now, and he wouldn’t know why and wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. His hands were shaking like they hadn’t in the longest time, he kept telling himself it was the steering wheel vibrating, not him. The air reeked of burnt magic, and he didn’t understand a single damn thing, wasn’t Stolas powerless now?
“Dad, he’s shaking. I don’t think he’s awake though.” Loona whispered shakily, she felt so useless. She was limited to only caressing Stolas’ head, attempting to bring him any comfort she could, as if that could save him.
“Come on, you’re fine, birdbrain. Just a lil’ tired, yeah? You’ll wake up in no time and annoy the fuck out of me with all your book talk I don’t understand once again. I promise I’ll teach you how to cook this time, I- I promise I’ll do better,” His voice cracked half-way through his sentence, mentally praying to whoever’ll listen that his promises are enough to keep him fighting. He laughed—short, ugly, desperate. As if hell had a merciful God. “C’mon, don’t do this, not now. We still have so much to talk about. Fuck, I promise I’ll start talking, I won’t ever stay quiet with you again.”
He was angry, he was so fucking angry at himself, and at the traffic, and at his lack of power. Anger was the easiest way to keep him from falling apart, it had always worked, and he couldn’t succumb to fear now. He slammed his fist against the dash when the light turned red and the cars in front of him stopped him from running the light again. “Move it, damn it!” His throat burned, his eyes did too. Every second the world stood still felt like a personal insult, like the universe was taking his sweet time watching him fall apart and regret his choices.
Eventually—way slower than he would’ve wanted to—but finally, they arrived to the ER. In fucking Sloth for that matter. “You’ll be fucking fast today bitch! You’re getting him in there right now if you don’t want your brains blown out, you hear me lady?!” Blitz had been yelling for about fifteen minutes now for them to treat his bird, and it took him threatening them and pulling his gun for them to finally vanish him behind the curtains. He stayed frozen in the hallway, alone with his thoughts now and with no option but having his adrenaline crash down and his anxiety creep up. He had told Loona to go get herself something from the cafeteria, he didn’t want her to see him be this frustrated with nothing to do, being so weak.
For a long time he just stood there, staring at his empty hands. There was so many thoughts running through his brain, so many questions and no answers. He didn’t understand how they got to this position. He knew the ex prince had been neglecting his health lately, a habit he usually picks back up when he is left alone, but that smell back in the car was unusual. Burned magic, something his lover should be drained of right now.
He spent a long time repeating the same questions in his head, as if the answers would magically appear there. A sound took him out of his thoughts—Tick, tick, tick— “Damned clock.” The sound seemed to be mocking him for every second they wouldn’t update him or let him inside the bird’s room.
Blitz sat perfectly still in the waiting room, elbows his knees, eyes fixated in the wallpaper. To anyone passing by he probably looked bored, maybe a little tired. The kind of guy who’d been through worse. But one of his feet kept tapping against the floor—a small, repetitive motion that betrayed him. His tail coiled around his other ankle, trembling every few seconds.
He’d run out of things to say by now. He’d joked with the nurse, cracked something stupid about owl insurance. It didn’t land, nothing did. He didn’t even know how long it had been, he refused to check his phone, he trusted Loona with the task of updating M&M. They were probably here too. He didn’t care. His throat was dry and every word he said tasted wrong.
He replayed it a million times in his head—how limp Stolas was when he took him into the car. The way his body had gone slack in Blitz’s arms, heavy in a way that didn’t belong to someone alive. Blitz forced the image away, blinked hard. He tried calming his nerves by telling himself Stolas was fine, the Doctor told him he was stable. Stable was good, stable meant alive. But the word felt thin, stretched, like a lie someone told to keep him from breaking down in public.
A nurse passed by and he lifted his head too fast. “Hey, uh, the owl guy, room 206—he’s still okay, right?”
She smiled politely, too politely. “They’ll update you soon, sir.” He nodded like that meant something. Then his foot started tapping again.
Loona opened the door to the waiting room, M&M behind her. They were all quiet, as if they were expecting Blitz to blow up in any given moment. Loona was the first to say something, “You look like you’re about to bite someone, Dad.”
He chucked for the first time in hours, somehow his daughter always knew what would make him feel a little less shitty. “Nah, I’m okay.”
She stared, ”You’re shaking.” Blitz glanced down, and sure enough, his hands were trembling, faint but constant. He shoved them under his arms and leaned back.
“It’s just cold in here.” M&M sat by his side, Millie softly tapping him in the shoulder.
“Blitz, we’re here for you, you’ll need to be strong later for him. You two have a conversation pending. But here? Here you can allow yourself to crumble down for a moment.”
But before he could reply, the sound of the door opening hit him before he saw the doctor. Blitz’s head immediately snapping up, neck stiff, eyes wide and wild before he forced himself to look as normal as he could.
The Imp felt like the doctor was just saying a word soup—something about exhaustion, malnutrition, magic short circuit, stress, recovery—and Blitz nodded like he understood any of it. He just needed to hear alive. That was the only word that mattered.
“...He’s stable now,” the doctor finished, soft and cautious, like he was afraid Blitz might kill him. “He’ll need to have some rest, but he’s out of immediate danger. He should wake up soon.”
Stable. He snorted, but it fell thin. Then he let out a laugh that sounded too sharp, too high. “Stable. Yeah, I heard that before.” He rubbed the back of his neck, realizing only then that how cold his hands were and that they hadn’t stopped shaking.
The doctor finished by mumbling something about paperwork, before once more disappearing into the hall.
For a long moment, nobody said anything. The world felt muffled, lights too bright, everything too quiet, like the air had been sucked out of the room.
Moxxie was the first to move. He stood and crossed the space between them, crouching slightly so he could look him in the eye. “He’s okay, boss.” His voice was soft but steady. “You can let go now.”
Blitz blinked quickly before responding, “Let go? Nah, I’m fine. Just, y’know, long night. Owl boy’s fine. Everything is fine.” He said, attempting mostly to convince himself than anyone else.
Moxxie’s hand landed gently on his shoulder. “Blitz. You don’t have to do that right now.”
That was all it took, the smallest bit of kindness, and something inside him just snapped. His breath hitched. The sound that came out wasn’t a sob exactly, more like a broken laugh trying to crawl its way through a chokehold.
“He’s a fucking idiot.” He muttered, his voice shaking. “Y’all told him to eat, told him to sleep, he never listens—“ His words stumbled, turned to static halfway through. He pressed a hand over his face like he could hide it, shoulders trembling. “He never fucking listens. And it’s my fault, because he would’ve listened to me if I just manned up and stopped being such a pussy about feelings.”
Millie knelt beside him and rubbed slow circles into his back. “It’s okay, Blitz. You can fall apart now. You’ll need your strength later when he wakes up.” She repeated, reassuring him it’ll be fine.
For a second, Blitz didn’t move. Then he just breathed. One deep, ragged sound that seemed to scrape out of him. He dropped his elbows to his knees and bowed his head, tears dripping silently into his palms.
“I thought I lost him,” he whispered. “I really thought—”
Moxxie’s voice was quiet but sure. “You didn’t.”
Blitz nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He didn’t. But for once, he let himself believe it.
They stayed quiet for some time after, that until a nurse walked in. “Mr. Buckzo, he’s awak—“ The nurse couldn’t finish her sentence before Blitz jumped out of the position he was in, running to the room Stolas was in.
The room was too white, too still. Machines hummed softly in the corner, a slow, steady rhythm that almost sounded like breathing, like proof that Stolas was still here.
Blitz stood in the doorway for a long moment, frozen. He’d spent the last hours rehearsing something to say, a joke, maybe, or some snide comment about hospital gowns, just anything to ease into the thunderstorm that this conversation would be. But his throat had other plans, the words getting stuck somewhere behind his ribs.
Stolas looked even smaller than that first day he took him in, not in a literal sense, he still took up half the bed. But he was fragile, like a bird that flew too close to the sun. The shadows under his eyes were deep, his feathers dull where they’d once shimmered. The sight knocked the air out of Blitz’s chest. Was this how Stolas had looked after Striker? He would never know. The realization kicked guilt into his stomach once again, he was nauseous.
He wanted to run, oh, he wanted to run so badly. But he couldn’t, because he wasn’t that type of person anymore, at least from now on he’d try not to be. He dragged a chair to Stolas bedside, and for a long time he just stared at the floor, unsure of what to say. Stolas was silent too, maybe out of anger, maybe out of tiredness, he didn’t know.
“Y’know,” Blitz finally talked “You really fucking scared me there.” He looked into Stolas’ eyes, they were tired. “You can’t die on me like that, you’re supposed to take care of yourself!” Anger filled his chest again, because it was the easiest emotion to feel right now, the safest. “You can’t pull shit like that on me. I was worried.” He meant to be loud, assertive, but it came out broken. Stolas was still silent, he wasn’t fighting back.
“Oh, you worry about me now?” Stolas said, he meant it to have bite, sarcasm, but it came out hurt too.
Blitz scoffed, but it didn’t sound convincing. “Don’t start with that,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I worry. Sue me.” Defensiveness filled his words.
Stolas blinked slowly, feathers ruffling as he turned his head on the pillow. “You have a funny way of showing it that’s for sure. Ignoring me for a week and a half does the trick.”
That hit deeper than it should have. Blitz’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly good at this stuff, okay? I’m sorry. I am. I don’t—” He stopped, exhaled hard through his nose. “You scared the shit outta me, Stolas. You weren’t breathin’ right, and I— What if I had lost you? I could never forgive myself.”
The room went quiet again. The hum of the monitor filled the silence, steady and taunting. “I’m sorry,” Stolas said softly. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I should’ve talked to you too. I just… haven’t been feeling like myself..”
Blitz turned his head back, eyes narrowing. “No kidding. You look like hell.”
That got the smallest, breathiest laugh out of Stolas, barely there, but it was something. “Once a clown always a clown, I suppose.” he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment.
Blitz sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m serious, though. You can’t just run yourself into the ground. You got people who—” He hesitated. “Who’d notice if you didn’t wake up the next day.”
Stolas’s gaze softened, studying him. “People? Or you?”
Blitz tried to roll his eyes, but it came out weaker than usual. “Don’t make this a thing, feathers. I’m not doin’ the sappy crap right now.”
Stolas smiled faintly. “You already are.”
They go quiet, and in a second, Blitz stops hiding behind his sarcasm and Stolas stops performing. It’s just them, small and exhausted, choosing each other. “You don’t have to stay,” Stolas said finally, his voice fragile in a way Blitz had only heard after the trial. “You’ve already done enough by bringing me here. I’m sure you’re tired. And I’m sure Loona and the others are worried—”
Blitz let out a short, humorless laugh. “Nah. They’re fine. Millie made me promise not to bolt, so… guess you’re stuck with me, birdbrain.”
That made Stolas huff softly, something close to a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “I’m… glad.” Stolas murmured, eyes fluttering half-closed, “I think you’re the only one keeping me alive right now. I feel like shit.”
That hit harder than Blitz expected. He looked up softly, meeting those tired, glassy eyes, and something in him just broke open. The part of him that always needed to joke, to deflect, to run—it just shut down.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice low. “You can’t say stuff like that, Stols. You can’t just…give up like that.”
“I’m not giving up,” Stolas whispered. “I’m just… tired. Of pretending everything’s fine these past weeks. Of you looking at me like you don’t care when I know you do.”
Blitz’s throat tightened. He didn’t even try to deny it this time. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “I do. Too much, maybe. That’s what fucking terrifies me, I’ve never allowed myself to care so much about someone, Stols. I’m used to running, escaping, but that’s not who I want to be to you anymore.”
For a long beat, neither of them moved. Then Blitz reached out, tentative, fingers brushing against Stolas’s. The bird turned his talon-like hand over, catching Blitz’s in his own, and squeezed, weak, but deliberate. Then he looked up, sweet soft tired eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Blitz muttered, but he didn’t pull away. “You’re gonna make me do something stupid.”
Stolas’s lips curved faintly. “I think we’re well past stupid, dear.”
That was all the permission Blitz needed. He shifted closer, one hand cupping Stolas’s jaw with a gentleness that surprised them both. The kiss was soft, clumsy, hesitant. But real. The kind of kiss that said you’re still here.
When they broke apart, Blitz kept his forehead against Stolas’s, their breaths mingling in the quiet.
“You scared me,” Blitz whispered again, voice raw.
“I know, I’m sorry.” Stolas breathed, brushing his thumb against Blitz’s cheek. “I scared myself, too.”
For once, Blitz didn’t hide. He just sat there, letting Stolas’s hand rest against his face, feeling the steady rhythm of the monitor behind them, proof that they’d both survived another night.
———
The world outside the window had turned even a darker red by the time Blitz drifted off, still sitting half-upright in the chair beside the bed. His hand was resting on the mattress, close enough that Stolas’s fingers could brush it every now and then, just to remind himself Blitz was really there.
When the door creaked open, Blitz woke instantly, blinking blearily as a doctor and a nurse stepped in. The doctor’s voice was gentle but carried that clipped precision of someone about to deliver news.
“Good morning, Mr. Goetia and Mr. Buckzo,” he said, checking the monitor. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a spell and a truck at once,” Stolas rasped. Blitz managed a tired snort at that.
The doctor offered a small, professional smile, then adjusted his clipboard. “We’ve run several scans to understand what caused your collapse. Physically, the exhaustion and malnutrition alone would have been enough to ground you. But there’s something else.”
That made Blitz straighten in his chair, tail flicking nervously. “Something else?”
The doctor nodded. “Your system shows evidence of a magic circuit overload. Essentially, the energy that was supposed to be removed from you, didn’t dissipate completely. Some of it has been cycling through your body, unable to be controlled by its host. That alone can lead to collapse, but it also created an unusual reaction in your physiology.”
Stolas frowned, confused and already uneasy. “What sort of reaction?”
The doctor’s tone softened. “The residual energy appears to have… anchored itself. In doing so, it triggered a state similar to magical gestation. You are, by all current readings, carrying a developing lifeform. I suppose you know this is possible in both genders when it comes to the Goetia, when it comes men, a spell is normally casted. Let’s say, the spell cast itself.”
The room fell utterly silent. Blitz blinked once, then twice, like the words needed a second to hit. “You mean—he’s— what?”
The doctor nodded carefully. “Gravid. This combined with the stress, malnutrition and exhaustion, caused your collapse.” The doctor hesitated for a second, but spoke again, “Stolas, you were lucky. In the state you were, you could’ve had a miscarriage, or even worse, lose your own life.”
Stolas’s breath caught, talons curling weakly against the sheets. “Gravid,” he echoed, voice shaking. The word landed like glass in the quiet room. “That’s… that’s impossible. I—”
“It isn’t.” The doctor said. “There was no need for you to cast a spell, the residual magic in your body was blocked, with nowhere to go. So to protect itself, it reformed itself.”
“I- I’m going to be a father again?” He was scared as fuck, that was undeniably true. But there was excitement in his voice, because as scared as he was, and inconvenient as the time was, having a child with his bird was a miracle he didn’t think possible.
The doctor hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. Congratulations, though I understand this is… a lot to process.”
”You could say that.” Stolas said with a faint smile.
The doctor started to go on about energy stabilization and prenatal enchantments, but Blitz wasn’t hearing any of it. His tail had gone rigid, his claws flexing restlessly. “You said he could’ve died.”
“Yes. His body was under immense stress. The exhaustion, lack of nutrition, and magical imbalance made it extremely dangerous. But he’s stable now. He just needs rest, food, and care.”
Blitz’s voice dropped low. “He’s gonna get that.”
The doctor nodded, sensing the warning in his tone, and excused himself quietly, leaving them alone.
Once the doctor left, fear filled Blitz’s chest. What if he ruined this too? He started pacing around, short strong steps, strong turns, every muscle tightening.
“Blitz,” Stolas whispered.
That single word stopped Blitz cold. He turned, eyes wide, jaw still set hard. “You scared the shit outta me yesterday,” he said, the words shaky, uneven. “You can’t— you can’t do that again. You don’t sleep, you don’t eat, you just sit there pretending you’re fine, and now—” He gestured helplessly toward Stolas’s stomach. “Now this we have this!”
“I didn’t know,” Stolas whispered, voice broken, eyes glassy. “I swear I didn’t.”
“I know you didn’t.” Blitz’s voice softened, the anger collapsing into something fragile. “But you have let me help you, okay? You don’t get to just waste away ‘cause you think you can handle it on your own. You have me, and I fucked up and I should’ve talked to you before this got this far but we’re not doing that no more. We talk about shit, I- I’ll talk about shit, even if I wanna run, I won’t bail on you.” His thumb brushed over the owl’s bruised knuckles. “You’re gonna rest. You’re gonna eat. You’re gonna take every damn thing the doctors tell you to take, ‘cause I’m not losing you. Not you, and not— Not either of you.”
Stolas stared at him, stunned silent for a moment, then whispered, “You’re not angry?”
“I’m terrified,” Blitz said quietly. “But angry? Nah. Not at you.” He lifted Stolas’s hand and pressed a kiss to it, lingering there for a second. “You didn’t do this to me. You just… got stuck in somethin’ that’s ours now. And, honestly, between all of that I’m also excited.”
Stolas smiled, “I’m scared as fuck too, and excited as well. I want this. Ours.”
“Yeah,” Blitz said softly. “So no more starving yourself, no more all-nighters at the office, no more tryin’ to be Mr. Save-A-Ho. You got me, you got Loona, and now—” he smiled faintly, eyes glinting with that stubborn warmth he couldn’t hide, “—you got a baby who’s already gonna have too much attitude for their own good.”
A shaky laugh escaped Stolas then, tears spilling freely down his soft cheeks. Blitz leaned forward, resting his forehead against Stolas’s, and for the first time since the collapse, both of them breathed in sync again.
———
The hospital discharged Stolas the next morning, much to Blitz’s relief, though the Imp didn’t let him take a single step without an arm around his waist. Stolas tried to argue once, something about being able to walk on his own, but Blitz just gave him that sharp look that meant don’t even start, and Stolas let himself be guided.
The car ride home was peaceful, the kind of silence that felt fragile instead of heavy. Blitz’s hand never left Stolas’s thigh, thumb tracing slow circles over the fabric of his pants every few minutes, like he was making sure he was still there.
When they stepped inside the apartment, the smell hit first, something warm and buttery and definitely not from Blitz’s nonexistent baking skills. Hey, the Imp could cook his ass off, but bake? He’s good off that. There was also something savory cooking up, he guessed from M&M.
Loona looked up from the stove, a rare soft smile tugging at her mouth. “Hey, bug bird,” she said to Stolas, hugging him tightly, she was scared too. Blitz opened his eyes wide, ready to tell her to chill on him a little, but he allowed it to happen this once because the relief on his daughter’s face was priceless. “We figured you’d want real food. Moxxie’s been stressing over soup ratios like his life depends on it.”
“It does depend on it,” Moxxie snapped from behind her, but his tone was light. Millie just grinned and waved, holding up a tray of something that looked like an apple pie, Stols’ favorite they’ve come to realize.
Blitz exhaled a laugh he hadn’t realized he was holding in. “You guys didn’t have to—”
“Shut the fuck up Dad,” Loona said without looking at him. “You’ve been pacing since four a.m. We had to.”
That earned a genuine smile out of Stolas, small but real. “This is all very kind of you,” he murmured, voice still hoarse.
“Don’t mention it, feathers,” Millie chirped. “You’re family now, like it or not.” Oh, and was he.
Blitz helped him settle onto the couch, fluffing pillows that didn’t need fluffing and adjusting the blanket three times before Stolas reached out and caught his hand. “Dear,” he said softly.
“What?” Blitz muttered, still pretending to be busy with the blanket.
“Doing too much.”
“Womp womp, deal with it.”
That earned him a quiet laugh, one that loosened something deep in his chest. Stolas leaned his head against Blitz’s shoulder, eyelids heavy, while Loona passed him a mug of tea with both hands. After finishing his tea, Stolas started to drift off.
They still had a lot to figure out, still had to tell their friends, still had to learn how to raise again. But this was warm, and it was theirs to figure out. They had a village too, liked it or not. He reached down, resting his palm against the faint warmth of Stolas’s stomach, thumb brushing lightly over it like he was making a silent promise. For once, after so long, they’d decided to get off autopilot.