Been Dying to Say

by Morgan_Baker91

Summary:

"…and I think it's so sweet! I don't know what made you think I wouldn't find out, though. You know Dad's not very… Well, he told me everything!"
Maggie gulped. "Everything?"
"Mmhm! And I think it's a great idea," Charlie bubbled. "I don't know why I never thought of it! Most of our clients are in the community, anyway, and I think this will really help us build rapport. Everyone needs a little time to relax, right? You're a genius, Maggie!"

It's Pride Month! This is an excuse to let everyone be a little extra gay... with a plot? Updating daily this month (or that's the plan, at least)!

Notes:

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH, MOTHER FUCKERS!

Chapter 1: Green Light

Maggie could only blush as Charlie leaned over her desk with that devious smirk of hers, like she knew something she shouldn't. After a drawn-out silence, though, her stomach turned sour.

"Did I do something, babe?"

Charlie tipped her head playfully, asking "I don't know. Diiiid you?"

Maggie sighed in relief. This was a game, not an intervention.

"Can I get a hint?" Maggie chuckled.

Charlie's grin widened into something that would seem sinister on anyone else.

"I just got off the phone with Dad…," she shared.

Maggie's amusement vanished. That was a surprise! He wasn't supposed to tell Charlie. He wasn't supposed to tell anyone!

"…and I think it's so sweet! I don't know what made you think I wouldn't find out, though. You know Dad's not very… Well, he told me everything!"

Maggie gulped. "Everything?"

"Mmhm! And I think it's a great idea," Charlie bubbled. "I don't know why I never thought of it! Most of our clients are in the community, anyway, and I think this will really help us build rapport. Everyone needs a little time to relax, right? You're a genius, Maggie!"

Maggie blinked. Then she forced a smile to her lips.

"Y-yeah. That's… why I suggested it! So, uh, what did he say?"

"He got the ship, the crew, everything! He's even cashed in a favor from a fraternity brother, but hasn't heard back. But, if Uncle Oswald says yes, he and Ozzie are coming, too! Aaaaaah, I'm so excited, Maggie! I haven't seen Ozzie in years! Thank you so much for setting this up, babe!"

Maggie's smile relaxed into a more natural grin as Charlie started listing everyone she needed to invite. The clients, of course, Maggie expected as much. They were kind of her family, in a weird, fucked up way.

"Oh, and Alastor! We have to invite Alastor, even though he's not a client of mine," said Charlie with determination. Alastor and Rosie, which still leaves, like, 30 random invitations."

Maggie cringed internally and fought to keep her smile in place. Bad. The last person she wanted there was-- Actually, that would be Fisk, and after that, Adam, but Alastor was easily third.

"Maggie."

She gasped softly as a gentle hand settled over her own. She squeezed it.

"I know you're worried about him. And you have every right to be. It would mean a lot to me if he could come, though. He doesn't have many friends, and this could be good for him. Like I said, Rosie will be there, too," Charlie said softly. "Any funny business, you can push him overboard, okay? If it's a red line for you--."

"No. It's… more of a yellow-ish… solid marigold?" Maggie stammered. "It's not my first scar."

"You can be honest, Maggie. I'd never force you to do something you're not comfortable with."

Maggie grinned softly and gave another gentle squeeze to Charlie's hand.

"No, you're right," she whispered. "Lucid Alastor is very different from… the other one. I can… if he can behave, so can I."

"If we see anything off-."

"I trust you, Babe. Absolutely."

Charlie leaned down and planted a tender kiss on Maggie's nose. With a giggle, Maggie tilted her face to meet her lips.

"I love you, Maggie-pie."

"Love you, too, Char-bar. But lunch is almost over."

"Oh, fuck! Any chance you could grab-?"

"Coffee and tacos from the truck? I'm on it."

After another sweet kiss, Maggie gathered her purse and keys then headed outside. The second the door shut behind her, she whipped her phone from her bag and found "Lu."

Lucifer was notorious for letting calls go to voicemail, and that's what Maggie expected this time, too. Instead, the phone rang twice before a nervous laugh met her ear.

"Sorry…" he said playfully, as if he hadn't just fucked Maggie over.

"No, not sorry! What the fuck did you tell her?"

"Well, I didn't exactly have time to prepare anything fancy," Lucifer confessed, "but I think I sold it. I told her you thought a networking event to celebrate a year of business could be fun. And I offered to pay for the whole thing as a gift because of how proud I am of you both!"

"Ay, dios mio. But you found the boat? You actually booked the Calypso?"

"I got the Calypso! Fully catered, staffed, and paid for, plus, I got my brother-."

"Ozzie, yeah. She's really excited to see him again," Maggie said, her heart starting to calm down. "And you'll be there, too?"

"Cross my heart. I wouldn't miss this party for anything. Well, unless I'm dead. Yeah, I'd have to be literally dead to miss it!"

"Well, try not to die in the next two months, okay? It'll ruin the mood."

"I'll do my best," Lucifer laughed. "And you try not to jump the gun, okay? As proud as I am to have you in the family, I want to see the proposal!"

Maggie chuckled back, "I just hope she says yes."

"She will. She's crazy for you, Mags! And, honestly, I am, too. You two really do complement each other."

"I think so, too. Sorry for yelling at you."

"Nah! I'm used to it. If someone's not yelling at me, I worry I forgot to do something."

Maggie rolled her eyes. She certainly didn't envy the politician on that front. Everyone seemed to have something to say about Governor Mange and his spectacular failures running the state, despite re-electing him every single year. Maybe there were just a vocal minority, but it seemed like a new scandal was dug up every few months.

"Anyway, sorry," Lucifer continued. "I try my best to keep everything straight in my head, but, you know. It's not exactly Disney up there."

Maggie laughed and said, "Well, no one ever accused you of that. I'll see you in June, then."

"It's already in my calendar! Take care, Maggie."

"Bye."

With another chuckle, she hung up. She returned the phone to her purse, a thumb brushing a small box protectively before focusing on her surroundings again.

Chapter 2: Rare Bargain

Summary:

Ozzie gets a phone call, and Fizz takes a bath.

Ozzie groaned at the staccato blips of his phone. His arms tightened around- a pillow.

"Fiiiiiiiiiizz," he groaned again, rolling over in the bed. "You'd better not be in the kitchen."

"Bath," Fizz shouted back. "Answer your damn phone, drag show!"

Through blurry eyes, Ozzie read his screen. Pop. He swiped to answer.

"Morning."

"Morning? It's nearly one! Did I wake you up?"

"Nope," Ozzie yawned. "Been awake for hours. Something wrong?"

"Something right, for once! Remember my pal Lucifer and his little girl?"

Like a shot of espresso, that perked Ozzie right up.

"Yeah, course I remember Charles. How is she?"

"She got that clinic up and running, if you can believe it. All on her own, too! Coming up on a year in business and still in the black."

Ozzie rolled his eyes with a smile. Charlie'd been adamant about becoming a therapist since she was seven, talked his and Bee's ears off every chance she got.

"Good for her!"

"Her partner's throwing a party to celebrate. On the Calypso."

"Well, fuck, where's my party?" laughed Ozzie. "I been running the club for almost ten, and no one's thrown me a party! Fizz, get me a party!"

"Bitch, I am the party!"

"His implants holding up okay?" Pop asked over the phone.

"Hasn't complained to me. And thanks again for getting him hooked up."

"Kiddo, if he makes you happy, I'll burn down Hell for him," Pop laughed. "But, uh, there is more to it than just the business. I'm kinda sworn to secrecy, though. Anyway. What are you doing June 11th?"

"Shit- Hey, Fizz? When's your next tour?"

"New England Tour, basically all of July. Trying to relax here, Babe, not think about my fuck-head manager."

"We can be free," Ozzie relayed.

"Good! Charlie's gonna want you there, trust me."

"If Fizz can come, I can come, so…"

"Yeah, I'll make sure he doesn't show up or surprise book anything," Pop promised. "This is a big ask, but—."

"Isn't it always?"

"—are you two okay performing, or do you want to be just guests? Lu was very clear that you don't have to, but Zizi's kinda hoping for it, I think."

Ozzie snorted, "Who'd pass up free entertainment, right? Fizzy's out. Let him enjoy the party. If Aunt Z wants to set up a drag show, I'll dress for it, maybe do the song and dance. Nothing special. Only 'cause it's Charlie."

"Fair enough. You'll still get a cruise ride, an overnight room, and Baby Bee's doing all the catering, so you know the food'll be killer."

"And we get to ride with you?"

Pop sighed and said, "Well… I guess you can ride along. But your boyfriend is not joining the club."

"Whatever you say, Pop," Ozzie laughed. "We'll see you then, okay?"

"No, I'll see you next Thursday for dinner. Wish you could visit more, but… business comes first, right?"

"Hate to knock you down a peg, but business second. Froggy comes first."

"Might have to take that advice."

"Not a bad idea, Mr. Twice Divorced."

"Third time's the charm. Take care, Kiddo. Love ya."

"Love you, too, Pop. Later."

Ozzie hung up his phone and stretched. Wrapping his robe around himself, he sauntered to the bathroom where he was greeted with a yip and one of his favorite sights.

Rico Fizzarolli reclined in an over-sized tub, no makeup, no wig. The thick layer of bubbles on the surface of the water smelled like sherbet. A robotic hand stroked the ears of a pale, shivering chihuahua snuggled into a bed next to the bath. Fizz smiled, olive eyes glittering with whatever chaos possessing him this day.

"Hey, doll," he growled. "Wanna join us?"

Ozzie giggled and said, "Nah, not today. Precious need a trim?"

"Yeah, I was amazed her little nails didn't wake you up. Could you?"

"Always," Ozzie said, already pulling the clippers from a drawer.

"So," Fizz rumbled as Ozzie knelt down to fix Precious's nails, "who's calling so early on a Monday? And where's the party?"

"Pop. LA. My cousin's celebrating a year of business, and some other stuff, I guess."

"Hell yeah. This is one of the adopted ones, right?"

"Yeah, my old partner-in-crime Charlie," Ozzie grinned. "You know I don't talk to my bios, Froggy."

"Just checking."

"Anyway, Auntie Z was hoping for free entertainment, so we got an invitation, if you—."

"Hell yes! When?"

"The eleventh."

"Parade day? Double win!"

"It gets better." Ozzie laughed at the dumbstruck awe pulling at Fizz's features and said, "We're taking a plane with Pop. Private jet, so if you can be real quiet, I can get you into the club."

"What club?"

"Froggy. Baby. We're taking a private jet. To LA. What club do you think?"

Fizz didn't really blush because of how fucked his skin was by his accident. He didn't need to. In the past eight years, Ozzie learned to watch his eyes instead for them to turn glossy and his eyelids to flutter like butterfly wings when he was aroused, just the way they did when Fizz connected the dots then.

"O-oh."

"We land, we enjoy the parade, spend a little time incognito," Ozzie continued, resting against the tub, "then we get on the water, hm? I'll do a little drag, introduce you to the rest of the family, and you get to spend the evening eating anything you want."

Fizz's lips turned down at that, and he said, "You can't keep bribing me with food, Doll. This figure takes work, you know."

"Now, you of all people should know 'eating' doesn't necessarily mean 'food,' Froggy. But you do need to have a crepe, okay?"

Fizz rolled his eyes and waved him off with a simple, "Fine. One. And you're gonna help me work it off afterwards, got it?"

Ozzie laughed and said, "Always happy to help you break a sweat, Babe."

Notes:

This can only end well!

Chapter 3: Save the Date

Summary:

Angel and Charlie discover some things.

(Sorry it's a smidgeon late! I got distracted by art!)

"No fucking way!"

Angel nearly launched himself from the couch to maul Charlie. She only shrugged, still smiling at him and completely calm, the fucking tease. As if Angel wasn't mentally wrestling his organs back into place. With a deep breath, he tried again.

"Ozzie fucking Mendez is your cousin and you never told me that shit? Bitch is my fucking idol! Why wouldn't you say that?"

Nope. Still freaking out.

"He's just a person, Angel."

"Just a person? The sexiest drag queen alive is just a person?"

Charlie's smile faltered a touch as she said, "See, this is what I mean. You have this habit of putting others on a pedestal and not accepting that they can make mistakes, just like you."

"Uh, okay, fuck you," Angel sassed. "I don't make mistakes. And I don't just worship anyone."

"Ricky—."

"Okay, that doesn't count. Of course I'm gonna admire my big brother."

"Mark—."

"He coulda ratted me out any time, but he didn't. Loyalty is important!"

"Valentino."

Angel gasped and narrowed his eyes at Charlie.

"That's a low blow, toots," he rumbled.

"Husker probably has his own demons, too."

Angel did bounce up at that one. Despite clenched fists and a sneer that hurt his teeth, though, Charlie only watched him. Still calm. Almost pitying.

"You don't say shit about Husk," he growled. "He's been a fucking saint since day one! He's treated me like- like I'm something special."

"He's treated you like a person, Angel," said Charlie. "You are special, because you're human. And so is Husker, and so is Ozzie. You'd be surprised how many people will treat you as their equal if you just expect it from them. Val and Mark… They're the ones who'll use you. You feel inferior around them because they want you to feel that way. The people worth respecting are the ones that respect you. It doesn't make them gods."

"Agree to disagree," Angel said as he relaxed back into his seat.

Charlie tapped her lip with her pen and muttered, "I wonder… do you think he still spends hours making sure his outfit is perfect?"

"Who?"

"Ozzie. No joke, he spent three months planning his hairstyle for prom. Then he changed it at the last minute anyway because his hair just wouldn't cooperate. And he looked great, so there wasn't really a point to the fuss!"

"No way. Ozzie?"

"Yeah! We were starting to explore cross-dressing in high school, and the principal hated it. Tried to install a school uniform and everything. My dad and Uncle Oz… were not fans of that. It's just crazy how worked up people get over clothes!"

"You're telling me," Angel scoffed. "Ricky and Molls mighta known, but if our Pa ever found out I was borrowing skirts? He'd have put me on ice, you know? Hell, Ricky actually threatened it a few times. Telling him. Never did, though, that I know of."

"Why's that?"

"Why he'd threaten or why he didn't?"

"Let's say both."

Angel rolled his head along his shoulders. Big question.

"Quid pro quo," he said after a minute. "It's standard practice in the family to dig shit up for your own safety. We took care of each other or else. If anything came out that made one of us look bad, we had mutually assured destruction. If word got out I was gay, I could deflect. Ricky nearly got arrested for joy-riding, and Molly needed a ride up to the clinic every once in a while. So we made sure no one knew but us, to keep our own asses safe. Ricky took it a step further sometimes, since his shit 'wasn't so bad' as ours, but… little favors. 'Scare this John for me, so he don't talk' or 'Get this envelope to Mario's. I got a hot date and no time.' Stuff like that."

Charlie's face puckered, like someone stuck a clove of garlic in her ear and she was trying not to let anyone know.

"Um… I don't mean to presume, but…"

Angel chuckled, "Presume away, sugar."

"Mafia?"

"Ricky got inducted before I left, yeah. I bailed when they started training me, and Molly… I don't actually know if Molly was part of any of it. Lucky bitch."

"Do you think that's why Val seemed so appealing to you?" Charlie asked.

"Huh. I, uh, hadn't thought of that before. I mean, it's not not a factor. Big, strong dady offering to whisk me away to Hollywood and make me a star? That's enticing on it's own, yeah? And not having to hide anymore, being able to wear what I wanted, no expectations? Who could turn that down? Not me! I'd way rather be blowing guys than blowing them away! So even when it turned out to be a fucking lie, I was down to stay because at least I wasn't home, you know?"

"And then you met Husker."

Angel covered his cheeks, certain he was blushing. Even he could hear the dumb smile in his voice when he said, "Yeah. Then I met Huska. Should I ask him to come? Like, as my plus one? He'll probably be working, what with the parade and all, but… Can't hurt to ask, yeah?"

"Well, no, it can't," Charlie said slowly. "Unless you're not prepared for a 'no.'"

"To be fair, he'll probably say something more like, 'Are you fucking high again? I though you dropped that shit.' Nah. I'm not afraid he'll turn me down. More like… I guess I'm afraid he'll assume it's a date? Which I would love, don't get me wrong! I just don't think he would."

Charlie nodded and sighed.

"But if you don't ask, it's like, 'when will a moment like this ever come up again?'" she said quietly. "It's just too perfect to pass up, isn't it?"

"So you think I should invite him?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah! It's not like it has to be… And it's okay if it's not. Maybe you can just… hang out together, right? No pressure at all!"

Angel quirked a brow and asked, "You okay, toots? You seem… twitchy."

Charlie laughed, maybe too loudly, at him.

"I'm just really excited to spend some time with my family," she said.

Chapter 4: One Plus One

Summary:

Blitzø does math right for the first time in his life, and everyone wins!

...mostly.

Loona entered the studio boot-first, hands busy with her phone.

"Blitzø! You here?" she shouted.

Blitzø rolled his eyes and said, "If you would look up once in a while, you'd know."

To her credit, she did lower her phone and turn towards Blitzø. He waved from his seat behind the counter of their little shop.

"Oh. Charlie sent you this."

She pulled an envelope from her case and held it out to him. Just a simple, ivory, card-sized envelope. Damn. Not money. He took it anyway.

"Uh, what's it for?" he asked.

"Some fucking 'Year in Business' party," Loona snorted. "We've been open a few years now. Where's our fucking party?"

"Loony, please. That's rich people bullshit. Party, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess. Well. You have fun."

"What, you're not going?" Blitzø squeaked.

"Fuck no! Bee's got some massive catering gigs and it's her first night off that month. We're going to her place. Besides, I know you," Loona said sharply, "and I'd rather not see more of you than I already have. You're gonna get hammered, make out with everyone who'll let you, and use a mast as a stripper pole. I'm not making that mistake again. Not going."

With her signature one-finger salute, Loona vanished into her workshop. Blitzø shook his head with a small grin and a superficial sigh. Then he opened the envelope and read the card outloud.

"'Celebrate with us, one year in business. One-night social on cruise ship, the Calypso.' Ah, fuck. Really? '4 PM, Sunday the 11th to Monday morning, bring a—' Oooo. A plus one, huh?"

He flipped the card over to read a list of perks he, frankly, hadn't expected. Open bar, fully catered with a dessert table, "614" written in after "room number," fireworks, guest drag show… Perhaps Mustang Dong would ride again, then. Maybe Max could be his plus one.

"Fuck," Blitzø snarled, crumpling the invite in his hand.

No way. Max wouldn't go anywhere without Millie, and even he knew that was two and, therefore, more than one. Damn. If Loona hadn't declined, she could have invited Millie so they could both go. And she'd still have her own room, because he'd hopefully talk the couple into doing something stupid!

Him. He was something stupid.

Too bad. He tossed the card towards the garbage can where it bounced out and landed on the floor.

"Fuuuuuuuck me, can I do anything right today?" he growled. "Whatever. Fuck boats."

So, that was that. Blitzø settled in for a long day of fuck-all, outside of checking in and cashing out two appointments for Loona. Even the phone stayed uncharacteristically silent all afternoon.

Until…

"You're the night. You're the light—."

Blitzø groaned at the ringtone Millie had picked out for Stolas. While a perfect summary of thier relationship, "Love Me Like You Do" wasn't really a song he wanted to hear on a daily fucking basis. It did, at least, make him pick up to silence it.

"Heeeeeey," he said with all the fake enthusiasm he could muster. "How you doing, Stols?"

"Wonderful, thank you," Stolas laughed back, his voice light and crisp through his perfect service. "I was just— Are you, erm, busy? On the eleventh?"

"Uuuuuuuuh, maybe." Blitzø's eyes darted to the invitation still wadded up on the floor. "What, uh, why do you ask?"

"Oh? Well, it's your choice, of course, but… See, I have an event that day, and I was wondering if—?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sssssssssso, I actually also have some things. Like, I never miss Pride, so my day is already booked, and then I got this boat party I'm invited to, probably not your thing. Like, you could probably come if you wanted. I could get you in, no problem, but if you got your own thing, then… I mean, it doesn't make much sense, huh?"

"Ooo, a boat party? That's not much different from my event, and, well, it's not one of Stella's parties, so I'm not mandated to attend. I'd be happy to accompany you to your engagment, if you've already committed to it."

Fuck. Blitzø smacked his face into the counter as he cursed his luck mentally. Stolas was fun, sure, but he was also exhausting. And now he'd seen Blitzø's hand. He cleared his throat of the need to scream and pressed the phone to his ear again.

"Sure, we can make that happen. You behave for Daddy one night, and he'll let you meet his friends, hm?"

"Well, now I'm concerned what this party entails."

Blitzø snickered and said, "Don't you worry about that, Birdie. You just meet me at the Outer Harbor around 4, okay?"

Stolas was quiet. Blitzø checked his phone. Still on.

"Uh, Stols?"

"Do you know Dr. Magne?"

Blitzø jerked back in his seat, lost balance, and crashed hard onto the floor.

"Fuck! Shit, dammit…"

"Are you all right, Blitzy?"

"Yep! Fine. You know Charlie?"

"I… may speak to her on occassion. On regular occassion."

Blitzø sat up wheezing, rubbing his elbow to try soothing the pain.

"So on top of having a sex therapist, you've got an actual therapist?" he laughed.

"I'd hardly consider you… that."

"Yeah, but it sounds better on paper than 'hooker.' God, that hurt… I see her every other week, okay? Thinks I have mental health issues or some shit."

"I'm hardly one to judge. At least she didn't immediately refer you to Dr. Franklin like she did with me."

"Riiiiight, well," Blitzø breathed, internally wincing at his continued avoidance of that particular topic, "seems like we both have an invitation to the same party, then."

"So it would seem."

"And we both have a plus-one that no one's accepted yet?"

"I'm sure it's fine not to bring someone."

"You know, Max is gonna be at Pride, too."

Another pause before Stolas said, "All right?"

"And I bet he and Millie would get a kick out of a cruise, don't you?"

"Oh! Are you suggesting one of us offer up our invitation to them so they can come along?"

"I was gonna say we each invite one of 'em," mumbled Blitzø, "but your way works. Am I still coming over that Friday to rock your shit?"

Stolas giggled and whispered, "We shouldn't…"

"I'll take that as a yes. See you then, princy!"

After another soft pause, Blitzø hung up. Then he scampered across the floor to un-crumple his invitation. So he'd be spending his night in Stolas's room instead of with Millie and Max. Big deal.

If he could talk Max into wearing a fancy-ass hoop dress, he'd fuck anyone. Even that what's-his-dick Chad. Worth it!

Notes:

Remember, you can't mark it on your Bingo until you see it happen!

Chapter 5: Swan Song

Summary:

Maggie visits the only person she sees as family after leaving her old life.

"Mother?"

Cammy lifted her gaze from the invoices on her desk to the teenager in her doorway.

Two teenagers. The paler, blonde girl adjusted her amber sunglasses, a nervous habit of hers, Cammy knew. Her antithesis hovered behind her, dark-skinned with tight curls pulled back into a ponytail and concern spilling off her like rainwater.

"Odette. Clara. Is something wrong?" Cammy asked, sweeping her bangs to one side.

"No, Mom," said Clara. "We were just… well."

"You asked us to tell you if the one-eyed devil came back," Odette said.

"Especially if she brought gloves."

"Which she did."

"I see," Cammy said as she stood up. "Gracias, mijas. Please, hold my calls."

"Yes, mother."

Cammy watched the twins return to the front of the gym. Yes, twins. Fraternal, of course. While Clara inherited her father's dark complexion, Odette seemed to have gotten a double dose of Cammy's albinistic genes. Instead of lighter-than-typical hair and skin like her, Odette had arrived like a white swan and was named accordingly. Maggie had a strikingly similar story: she simply appeared one day at the gym growling that Charlie wanted her to blow off some steam and their place was walking distance. Everything more or less fell into place after that.

Cammy strode confidently into the changing room where Maggie had already changed and begun wrapping her hands. She smirked at Cammy.

"Miss Carmine."

"Margret," Cammy said, checking her hair in the mirror. "What's eating you today, child?"

Maggie shrugged and said, "Nada."

Cammy tsked and, taking the cue, switched to Spanish.

"You brought your gloves, but nothing is bothering you?"

"So you do come looking for me when I bring them?" Maggie grinned.

Cammy kept her face blank.

"Because you hit things when you're angry. You're not today?"

"Not today. Things are actually great. I got his blessing."

Cammy's eyes shot open. She picked up one of Maggie's gloves and helped her put it on.

"I presume congratulations are in order, then?" she asked.

Maggie grimaced and said, "Well, no. I haven't actually proposed quite yet. We're having a party, but she doesn't know it's an engagement party. She thinks it's to celebrate her practice."

"Hm. Could be dangerous, taking a risk like that."

"She's also asking if there's anyone I need to invite."

Cammy smirked back at Maggie. Not too dangerous, then. And yet…

"You don't have to save a man who insists on drowning," Cammy said softly. "The family who cares about you is all you need, and yours did not. Don't feel obligated to tell them anything, not if it will ruin your night."

"Shit," Maggie chucked as she wiped her face with her free hand. Then she held it out to be gloved as well. "I wasn't even thinking of them. I was… actually thinking of you."

"Is that so?"

"Would you come? As my— as my family?"

"Me? Are you sure?"

Maggie nodded, saying, "I can't think of anyone else I'd want to be there. I'd invite the girls, too, but we agreed, with the drinks everywhere--"

"Understandable. Well, I can't say no, if I'll be your only family there."

She looked up from Maggie's gloves meet her eye.

"Oh, mija, don't cry," she cooed, reaching up to dry Maggie's cheek.

"I- Thank you."

"Of course. Do you still wish to train?"

"I need a moment. But yes. And, uh, there's an… invitation in my bag for you. You can bring someone, if you want."

Cammy grinned and said, "I have an idea who might enjoy that. We'll worry on the details after work, though. Let's get you moving."

"Yes, Ma'am," laughed Maggie.

---

How was your day, my dear?

not terrible. maggie stopped by.

shes going to do it

Wonderful!

she wants us to come to the proposal

Cammy wasn't surprised at the pause that followed. Her friend didn't get out much, always too busy. Always working…

I'm going to need details, love.

june 11 4pm on the calypso

its a cruise ship

is it enough notice that i
can occupy some of your time?

Dear, you can always occupy some time.
Will she be alright?

youre not a cop zain

I'm not far off.

can you be a civilian one day?

just one?

For you, I'll do my best.

With a smile, Cammy set her phone down. Clara kept her attention studiously on the road, but Odette must have been watching attentively.

"Was that your not-boyfriend?" she asked.

"He is not," Cammy said firmly. "But, yes. I was speaking to Zain."

Clara piped in with, "Oh? How is he? Still a reclusive boomer?"

"Respectfully, girls, please. He's my friend, and we've been invited to a party."

"Party?"

"Can we come?"

"You may not," said Cammy. "There will be too much drinking, and the fireworks will hurt Odette's eyes."

"I'll be just fine at home, then," Odette confirmed.

"You're going out drinking at a party with your soulmate, and he's not your boyfriend?"

"Platonic soulmate. If you must know, it's an engagement party."

"Who got engaged? Is it Maggie?"

"Clara, please watch the road. I can't tell you."

"So it is Maggie," Odette hummed.

"No one is engaged."

"Not with that attitude!"

"Girls, please!" Cammy sighed and rubbed her temples. "You must promise not to say a word, but yes. Maggie is going to propose. Zain and I are going to see the proposal as her moral support."

"Awww, and we can't come?" Clara whined.

"Not with that attitude," Cammy repeated. "They're concerned about underaged drinking, and I don't blame them. A glass of champagne after dinner is very different from a full bar, especially on a ship. I'm sure she'll say yes, though, and I'm certain you'll be able to attend their wedding."

"Can we be bridesmaids?"

"I don't think Mom has a say in that, Clara."

"She can ask!"

"Girls! You can ask her. After the party."

Clara and Odette exchanged a brief glance then fell thankfully silent for the rest of the right home.

Chapter 6: By the Book

Summary:

Octavia works up the courage to tell Stolas a secret.

Octavia looked down at the book in her hands. The doodled cover felt so detached from the contents in some ways and so appropriate in others. She tucked it close to her chest, took a deep breath, and knocked.

A tired sigh preceded a tired, "Come in."

She hesitated, just a touch, then opened the door. Her father straightened up immediately, like he'd just been offered a mid-day coffee, and smiled. But he couldn't erase the bags under his eyes or the wine stain on his shirt. A slip of his own hand or one of Mum's outbursts, surely.

"Via, dear! I'm so sorry. Did we have plans?" he asked, sappy false cheer dripping from every word.

She sat down and said, "No. I… We should talk."

"Erm… what about?"

Octavia swallowed hard.

"I've, uh, been making friends. Online."

"That's wonderful."

"And they told me… I should read this book? It's called 'Loveless.'"

Dad frowned and set down his pen.

"'Loveless?' Whatever is that about?"

"It's about this girl starting college and thinking she might be broken or defective because she just… can't make herself fall in love. And she finds out she's aromantic and asexual over the course of the book."

"Oh! Well, yes, that is… It's not common, but—."

"About 1.3% of people identify as asexual, actually. It's just a lack of attraction. Like how you feel about women, but for everyone."

Dad stood, and Octavia's head dropped. Textbook, she mentally told herself. He would get up and run away from the issue. Such an avoidant personality, just like her new friends said.

Then he stopped at her chair. He knelt. Laid a hand over hers.

"Via, my starlight, if that is how you feel, I will support you."

"You will?" Octavia asked shakily.

"Yes! Starlight, I've spent— This is about you. You do not deserve," he said with a resolve she'd never heard from him before, "to feel ashamed of something outside your control. I refuse to force that on you, or to let anyone else do so."

She nodded, not trusting her voice in the moment. Her father didn't move, either, aside from giving her wrist an assuring squeeze.

"Thank you, Via. For telling me. I know how hard that can be." His expression shifted to something more nervous suddenly, and he whispered, "Let's not tell your mother, though, hm?"

Via's grip tightened on the book again.

"Will she react poorly?" she asked.

Dad sighed and said, "Honestly, I'm… not sure how she'll react. She's frustratingly predictable, which makes her paradoxically impossible to anticipate. Actually… Yes, you should hear it from— Via, dear, let me make a phone call. There's someone who's waited… many years to meet you."

He rose again, pulling his phone from his pocket and scrolling before selecting something. Via's stomach somersaulted as he pressed it to his ear.

"And— sorry, am I interrupting you? Good. In that case, I think you should come for a visit. No, she moved out weeks ago! You'll be fine. Of course not. She hasn't found out about Blitzy yet, and no one will tell her about… It actually can't. All right, I'll just tell Via you don't want to—."

"VIA?"

Dad flinched, yanking the phone from his ear with a wince. On the other end of the line, someone shouted through what Octavia could only guess was a panic attack. Outside of her own name, though, she could barely make any words out. "Forever," she was pretty certain of, as well as, "car keys," though it may have been "khakis?" Whoever it was must have been either getting dressed or heading out the door. As he slowly calmed down, Dad's arm relaxed until the phone was by his ear again.

"Yes," he said after a moment, "that sounds perfect. I'll prepare some tea. See you soon." Hanging up, he smiled at Via again and asked, "Care to accompany me to the kitchen, Starlight?"

"Who was that?"

Dad hummed sadly, even though she did leave the chair to follow him.

"A friend of mine. We attended Cambridge together, you know? But there was an… incident. And I was told to never speak to him again," Dad explained. "Now, clearly, I have. I really never stopped speaking to him. He's watched you grow up through photographs I send him."

"Dad, that's creepy."

He only chuckled, "Oh, not at all. You'll understand soon, but… it's not my place. Just know that I absolutely trust him."

"Have you got another secret boyfriend?"

"No! No, heavens no. Besides, he's married."

"Like that matters," Octavia breathed.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. So. Tea?"

The bell rang while they were pouring it. Whoever was at the door, they didn't live far.

"There he is. Via, dear, I'll fetch him and meet you in the sitting room, all right?"

"Yeah… Okay."

So she finished pouring tea like some domestic servant as her father scampered away. To be fair, the wait staff had diminished significantly once Mother had moved out. Some days it was almost… nice. To have such an empty home. A quiet home, where no one screamed or threw wine or tripped drunkenly up the stairs or fussed over an empty glass on her desk. Peaceful.

A door shut nearby, and Octavia picked up the tray of cups and brought them to the next room. Dad already sat on the sofa, and his presumed friend hovered behind one of the chairs. A wide, black hat hid his face at first, but, on seeing her enter, he reached up to remove it.

Octavia's muscles locked in place. Was this some kind of black mirror? All he needed to pass for Mother was a wig over his own white hair. Otherwise, his sharp chin and nose, thin lips and ice-blue almond eyes made him her clone.

"Um… Hallo," she forced herself to say. "I'm—."

"Octavia. You're… so grown up," Not-Mom said.

"Via, this is Andre Beck," Dad said. "Your mother's former brother."

"Former— How did that happen?"

Andre laughed sarcastically and finally stepped around the chair to sit.

"That," he said softly, "is a long story. And why we have tea. Sit with us?"

With less hesitation than before, Octavia held out the tray for Andre to take a cup before sitting next to Dad. Their guest took a small sip, then sighed.

"Keeping secrets," he said, "is a bit of an art. I thought I was a maestro, but Stella… your mother's skill to keep them is only outdone by her ability to uncover them. A lesson I learned at the worst moment I could have twenty years ago…"

Notes:

One day late, one dollar short, and fuck me sideways, I love writing VIA!

Chapter 7: Paper Princesses

Summary:

Max and Blitzø strike up a deal, Angel and Vasago collaborate on a project, and Millie worries.

Max stretched in his seat. His normal lunch break was still a bit away, but… fuck it. He'd finished all his freelance accounts. Starting work on Blitzø's files didn't make any sense if he would barely get his books open before being shout at to grab something off whatever food truck had parked out front. Usually tacos, but he'd seen gyros, barbecue, burgers, even a truck that literally only sold basic grilled cheese. His personal favorite was Waffle Stomp which, despite the shitty name, had a spicy chicken in a waffle that he'd kill someone to get. There was a vegan truck once, but they'd beat a hasty retreat after Blitzø, Millie, and Loona declared war on them over imitation bacon.

Max learned that day the trauma cheese could inflict.

Regardless, he grabbed and donned his hat and pushed out of his little corner office.

"Hey, Maxxie!"

Max rolled his eyes with a groan, debating if he could slip back into his office, but no. Before the thought even finished forming, Blitzø's arm twisted into his own and pulled him forward.

"So, about that drag show—."

"I'm not doing it," growled Max.

"Aw, come on! We could be so pretty!"

"You just want to see me in a real wig and tight leather."

Blitzø gasped playfully, saying, "What! No, I was thinking more like Disney princesses! Now, I like to be Aurora. I was thinking Belle for you, but if you want someone else, we can talk about it."

"Standard princess gown?"

"Hoop dresses and petticoats, yep!"

"No sexual 'modifications?'"

"It's basically cosplay!"

"And if I do this, you'll leave Millie and me alone after work hours?"

Blitzø hissed, like the request actually made his teeth hurt.

"I will give you… one month," he said painfully, "of zero contact outside of work."

"Three months."

"Six weeks."

"Deal. I'll get it in writing. Also, while Belle is my favorite princess, I look better in blue. Cinderella."

"Cinderella, then!"

Blitzø held out a hand, and they shook. Then Blitzø put his hands on his shoulders.

"So, that in mind," he said, maniacal grin glinting in the shitty hall light, "I might have enlisted some help making our look perfect."

"I am not reassured."

"Oh, relax! Just some guy I sucked off once while tripping hard on acid."

Max pinched the bridge of his nose against the impending headache as Blitzø pulled him into the lobby. A lobby that was much fuller than it should have been at lunch.

Three tall and slender men joined Millie on the cheap lounge chairs, laughing over boxes of Chinese takeout. Or, rather, two laughed. One of the blondes sneered at his box of rice.

"-dress me up again," he growled.

"Aw, no tienes estar mi princesa?" the red-head laughed back.

"I am only doing it for Via!"

Max examined the newcomers a bit more closely. The complainer did resemble Blitzø's sugar-daddy's wife, so perhaps Via's older cousin, or uncle? His wedding ring matched Red's, and they seemed to have that same benevolent teasing between them that he had with Millie. The third, though, looked more like someone Blitzø would hang out with. Sunken eyes, femme clothes hanging off his frame, and daisy dukes. Though he lacked the same tailored sophistication, he clearly had the grace and class to mingle with the upper crust, given how he had Red laughing.

"Look, everyone oughta try it once," he laughed, voice tickling the back of Max's mind. "And if it ain't right for you, hey, now you know, right?"

"Some things you simply know aren't for you," Fancy Blonde snarled.

"Well, if you don't want to dress as a princess," said Red, "I suppose I don't have to—."

Fancy grabbed Red's jaw and pulled him so close their noses almost touched.

"We. Are. In. Public!"

"Oh, please," Millie said with a giggle. "Max and I make bets on how many times your brother pinches the boss's ass when he comes over!"

"You WHAT?" Blitzø shrieked. "Oh, you fuckers!"

Millie, Red, and Femboy laughed as he picked up and threw an egg roll at Millie. Then he glanced at Max over his shoulder.

"Maxxie, this is Andre," he said, waving at Fancy, "Vass, and Angie."

"Uh-huh. So you're Stolas's brother?"

"Ugh. It's complicated, but… near enough," Andre sighed.

So he had guessed correctly: Via's uncle. Now that he thought harder, he did recall an article—.

"Oh, right. I think I read an article about the eldest of the Beck family being cut off. So those rumors were true, huh?"

Andre rolled his eyes, saying, "Yes, yes, I'm the family joke!"

"Joke's on them, really. As my husband, you're still part of the Goetia Society," Red — Vass — sang.

"Which I'm assuming makes you," Max said, swiveling to Angie, "the help Blitzø sucked off?"

Angie's face soured instantly.

"You promised you wouldn't tell anyone," he growled.

"I promised not to tell any cops."

"We'll discuss this later," Angie said accusingly. "Right now, we have princesses to mock up! So, Andy, yours is no problem. You're perfect for her. Blitzø, eh, you're a little tougher. Are you sure pink is what you want? It'll wash out your tone if it's too dark."

"Aurora's dress is fuchsia," Vass said quietly. "The 'pink' version is. What about blush?"

"Yeah, yeah! That sounds way better." Angie picked up a sketchbook and scribbled something down. "What about you, Moxxie?"

"It's Max. Cinderella."

Millie immediately cooed at the name. He grinned back.

"You been told before the blue brings out your eyes, huh?" Angie asked, not looking up.

Marlo, please. Blue makes his eyes sparkle.

"She's Millie's favorite," Max mumbled, pushing the memory back into its little box.

"You remembered…"

"Gay," coughed Blitzø.

"We are literally the only straight couple here!" said Max.

Angie raised a brow, saying, "You sure about that?"

Max sputtered. Technically, no, he wasn't sure. Then Angie snickered.

"I'm fucking with you, shnookums. This body's a gentleman's club, not a temple. Do you want a wig or extensions? With a cut like that, I can see extensions working for you."

Max picked up one of the take-out boxes and settled in. Over the lunch break, he, Blitzø, and Andre's plans for the eleventh came together. Angie and Vass's designs actually looked… pretty good. Angie knew what made drag work, clearly, and Vass quickly pointed out that fashion was his life. But, once the hour was up, Blitzø shuffled everyone back outside.

"Thanks again, Ang. I'll make sure to get your number to Stols. I promise he's good at his job."

"He'd better be. I could really use the income right now."

"Yeah, I know the feeling. Shit," Blitzø said, glancing at his phone. "Hey, I gotta pick up Loony. Can you two clean this up? Thanks, bye!"

Then it was just… Max and Millie. She picked up a still-sealed box from the coffee table and frowned. Max sighed.

"He's doing it again, huh?"

"I don't know what to do, Max," she whimpered. "It's not like we can make him eat. Can we?"

Max shrugged and said, "I doubt it. Maybe Mr. Burgundy could? Just put it in the fridge for now. See if he takes the hint."

Notes:

I am now 2 days behind. With any luck, I end this story a week into July. XD

Chapter 8: Coffee Break

Summary:

Nikki starts her day by checking in on Alastor. Today, he has coffee and an important question for her.

Nikki smoothed her dress before knocking. Presentability was important, after all. She counted in her mind, waiting for—.

"Who's calling?" the occupant asked.

"Hi, Alastor," Nikki chimed, smiling and waving, just out of habit. "It's just me, checking in to make sure you're doing okay!"

She heard the door unlock, then it opened to reveal Al in his little apartment. He smiled back and lifted his arms.

"Nikki, my dear, right on time."

"Punctuality is important, after all," Nikki giggled, accepting and returning his embrace. "Took your medicine?"

"I did. Please check me, though."

He waved his hand towards the counter. His pill box, indeed, showed an empty cavity for the morning's medicine. She reached up to pat his cheek with a grin.

"You're doing so good! I'm so proud of you, Al!"

Alastor cupped her hand, holding it to his face a moment longer before releasing it. Then he waved her to step inside.

"Please, have some coffee before work! A thank you for all your help," he said.

"Origato, Alastor," replied Nikki, pulling her house shoes from her bag and taking her outdoor shoes off.

"Oh, dear, you don't have to—."

"Manners are important, Al," she said. "It's proper."

"If it makes you comfortable, then."

It did. Or, rather, it just… was right. She didn't know how to act any other way. So, shoes changed, she stepped quietly inside and settled into one of the dining chairs. Alastor busied himself with the coffee maker while she smoothed her dress again.

"What's bothering you, then?" she asked.

Alastor flinched, then said, "Why do you think something's bothering me?"

"Because you asked me in for coffee. You only do that when you need to talk. So. Talk."

Alastor sighed and said, "Fine. I've been invited to a party.

"Oh, that's wonderful!"

"Not wonderful," he replied. "I've… never been to a party. I've never been invited to a party. I… don't know if I should even go."

"Of course you should!" said Nikki. "A party is an important social event! Turning an invitation down is rude, and manners—."

"Manners are important, yes." Alastor scoffed and continued, "You know, I'm not particularly known for my adherence to social etiquette and norms, dear."

"Hai… but, well, it's a start! You're growing, Alastor. Don't let your history stop your growth."

She would know, after all. Any time could be the time to change, if you were done with the current plan. Even if loyalty… was important. Family was important. The home was impor—.

A mug clattered on the table next to her, snapping her from her spiral of doom. She smiled at Alastor and took the cup in her thin little fingers.

"Thank you, Al. Caught me thinking."

"A sentiment I understand. Would you like to talk about it?"

Nikki shrugged and said, "What's to talk about? I couldn't find my place in Japan, so I looked for a new one. You couldn't find happiness in your old life, so you made a new one. It's all the same story, played out by the same sorry insects generation after generation. And, one day, all will be dust and memory. What will it matter then? No one will know what was or could have been. Staying where we don't belong isn't worth it, don't you agree?"

Alastor nodded blankly, and Nikki giggled.

"Sorry. I got carried away. We weren't happy, Alastor. We won't live forever, and I want to enjoy the time I have. I think you should do the same."

"If I did what I wanted with no concern for anyone else-."

"Oh, not with no concern," Nikki said, swishing her coffee around to cool it. "But you should put yourself first. I'm not saying to just… kill people. Like my bug collection. People think it's strange, but it makes me happy and doesn't hurt anyone."

Alastor hummed and took a sip of his own coffee. Then a small smile crept to his lips.

"Loopholes," he said. "If I do more help than harm, it's a wash."

"Yep. And helping yourself counts," Nikki said. "It has to."

"You are important, my dear. You count."

Nikki tensed like a collapsing star. She wanted to explode, to let Alastor know how long she'd been waiting for anyone to say that. She wanted to fall apart in all the emotions she kept locked in every day.

"You are important, too," she said instead. "So. What so you want to do?"

Alastor chuckled, saying, "I… think I wish to go. Care to accompany me, my dear?"

"No," Nikki said quickly. Then she blushed. "Sorry, that was rude."

"Of course not. As you said, you should put yourself first." Alastor leaned back and said, "Husker owes me one. Perhaps he'll be my companion for the night. Worst case scenario, I go alone. Charlie has already assured me that Dr. Franklin will be there as her associate. I won't get into any trouble."

"This is what I mean," said Nikki. "You need more friends!"

"So do you."

Nikki laughed.

"Oh, Al, you have no idea what I get up to in my free time. You don't think you're the only bad boy I keep in line, do you?"

"I like to believe I keep your hands full."

Nikki giggled again, "You don't. I'd offer to show you, but I don't think you'd appreciate my style. It's too… advanced for your tastes."

Alastor shrugged.

"I'm sure I could handle anything you—."

"It's kink, Alastor. I highlight as a dominatrix."

Nikki sipped her coffee again as Alastor stared at her.

"Do you mean moonlight?" he asked after a moment.

"Which one means 'second job?'"

"Moonlight. I rescind my earlier statement. Please never speak to me about it again."

"I thought not," Nikki said with a snicker. "Well, what's on my list today? Anything needing fixing up?"

With a chuckle, Alastor stood and retrieved a paper from the counter.

"Here you are, my dear," he said, holding it out to her. "Let me know if you need any help. And, perhaps start with Apartment 312. Husker's whore roommate is… incredibly annoying about that leak."

"I'm on it!"

Notes:

I am... so far behind on these... don't hate me.

But do leave a comment, please. They help motivate me to keep working.

Chapter 9: Sugar and Spice

Summary:

Bee is incredibly stressed, but Loona and Tex are incredibly amazing.

Even after a year together, Loona still wasn't used to Tex holding the door open for her literally everywhere. She rolled her eyes as always when he gestured for her to enter the shop first, silently thanking him for not making her put her phone down.

It smelled like sugar and fresh bread, as always. The usual buzz of customers, though, was absent. Two girls chatted in the corner over chocolate croissants and coffee. An over-tired boy tapped away at a laptop between bites of cookie, and a hairy, round man propped himself up behind the counter. He grinned at them, the smile not quite reaching his sunken, brown eyes.

"Damn," Loona said, tucking her hair back. "How much overtime have you gotten, Russ?"

"Enough that not working next week ain't gonna hurt me," he laughed weakly. "Want me to tell Bee—?"

"Nah, we'll just wait out here for her," Tex said, flinging an arm around Loona. "Want anything, Loo?"

"Hm. The orange cranberry scones sound good. What do you think?"

A half-dozen scones, a coffee, and an energy drink later, the pair wedged into a corner to enjoy their treats. Tex prodded at Loona about her most recent styling gigs. She pressed back about the latest events at the concert hall he worked at. They munched at their snacks, and Loona leaned into Tex's side once the other girls finally left. A few minutes later, Russ shooed away the frantic student, switched the door sign to closed, and started counting the till. Loona frowned and exchanged a worried glance with Tex.

"She's not skipping break, is she?" he asked. Then, louder, he said, "Yo, Russ? Can you check on Bee real quick for us?"

"Yeah, I need her to check my count anyway. Just give me—."

A chorus of metal hitting tile cut him off, a sound Loona and Tex knew intimately. They jumped immediately to action, slamming through the employee entrance to the kitchen before Russ could do more than shut the register.

"Holy fuck!" Loona coughed.

She pushed into the kitchen behind Tex in spite of the wall of heat trying to deter them. A waifish young woman puddled on the floor, a spoon halfway between her hand and a wall. A couple bowls spilled orange and pink frosting in an attempt at a Jackson Pollack across every surface available, including the woman's long, cotton-candy braid. Beatrice. Tex skidded to his knees next to her.

"She's hot," Tex said, scooping Bee into his arms. "Fridge is closest. Get sugar."

Loona nodded, biting out an "on it" before dashing out of the kitchen to the front counter. She slid to a stop before bumping against Russ in front of the fridge.

"Get a couple of day-olds," she ordered, grabbing a warm cola from the stock next to the fridge. "Bee's crashing."

"Fuck."

Loona rushed to the back again with the soda, slamming her way into the walk-in fridge. Bee lounged in Tex's arms, blinking heavily as she started coming back to life.

"I have the best boyfriend," she muttered weakly.

"Yeah, you do," Loona laughed.

She cracked the soda open and tipped it to Bee's lips, letting her sip the drink. Bee trembled as she took the bottle from Loona.

"Mmm. I have the best girlfriend, too."

"Damn right," Tex said. "Tell her what you did."

"Noooo…."

"Did you skip lunch again?" Loona asked, raising a brow.

Bee bit her lip, an obvious "yes" to her partners. Tex shook his head.

"Russ is coming with some sweets," Loona said. "What were you thinking, babe?"

"That this order is huge, and it has to be perfect. My whole family's gonna be there, you guys. I can't fuck this one up!"

"You can't skip meals with your condition, sugar," Tex said, brushing her hair to the side to expose her fade to the cold air. "Being alive is more important than being perfect."

"Tex is right. You gotta keep your sugars up."

"I know. I didn't do it on purpose! I just… I'm so behind. And tomorrow I gotta move it all and set it up… I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

"Sugar, you gotta ask for help," said Tex.

"Ask who, though?"

"Us," Loona said firmly. "We'll help."

Bee blinked up at her with wet, blue eyes. A golden-bronze glow slowly chased the pale complexion she'd had a few minutes ago.

"But you're both so—."

"Eager to take some pressure off you?" offered Tex. "You bet."

Something prodded Loona's shoulder, and she looked over it to see Russ. He held out a few croissants stuffed with jam. With soft thanks, Loona passed them to Bee. Tex pressed the back of his hand to her cheek again as she chomped down.

"Feeling better, sugar?" he asked.

Bee giggled and nodded.

"A little. Are you sure it's no trouble?"

"Yeah, but it's worth it," said Loona, smirking.

"You come up with the best 'thank you's,'" Tex agreed.

"I'm gonna get real food for you, then I'll count Russ's drawer. I used to do Dad's books before Max took them over."

"And I'll clean up while you organize your thoughts. We can make a plan over dinner."

"Yeah… Okay, Loo-Lee, there's a sign under the till that says 'closed for event.' Can you post that on the way out?" asked Bee. "And tell Russ once he counts the drawer down and gets dishes washed, he can clock out."

Loona chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Yeah,no problem. Pork bahn mi?"

"I love you two so fucking much."

Loona texted Blitzø that she might be home late as she headed to the restaurant next door. Good thing she did, too. Russ managed to leave the shop around seven, but it was fast approaching eleven-thirty when Bee crossed the last thing off her list.

"Okay, so in the morning, I just need to bake the rugelach and conchas, but they're already on the pans. So preheat the ovens, pop those in, package cupcakes while they bake-."

Tex put a hand on her shoulder and said, "We'll be here, too, sugar."

"Right, right… While they're cooling I— we can mise en place the crostini; shrimp takes, like, one minute so I'll do that. Toast and pack those as a team, then we can set up the cream puffs as an assembly line… once the tower's ready, we can head to the ship, assemble the crostini, and call it good! If we need to be setting up at three and it should take two hours to do everything—."

"Add 50% for scatterbrain, so Tex and I can be here at noon to help out?"

"I'll bring burgers. Make sure you two eat something."

"Hey, I'm not the one with GSD!"

"No, that's great," Bee said, pulling both into a tight hug. "Thanks, babies. I'll make it up to you once everything's done."

Loona pat Bee's hair as Tex laughed.

"We know you will," he said.

"Always do, honey-bug," Loona added. "But, uh… sleep first?"

All three giggled in an unspoken agreement as Bee finally shut the lights off in the slowly cooling kitchen.

Notes:

Is late. Is not care. I go on vacation soon, and you can be damn sure I'm writing these at least an hour every night while I'm away from my art tablet. Enjoy some HoneyBunch being a mess!

Also, if the food doesn't make sense, think of it as Maggie and Charlie both sharing their culture as well as the things they have in common. It's a little off-the-wall, but that's what they asked for.

Chapter 10: Keeping Secrets

Summary:

Andre may be an "ice queen," but he comes by that reputation for a good reason. He tells no one anything.

Not the truth, anyway.

Unlike Vassago's other clients, Andre didn't have a lot of say in how his dress came out. He wasn't happy at the initial fitting like the others, either, nor the second or final fittings. He was, however, Vassago's husband, and that came with its own perks. So, for three nights a year (the pride parade, their anniversary, and New Year's Eve), Andre swallowed what little decorum he'd maintained since being disowned and wore his partner's designs.

After all, if he wanted to be treated like a princess, he should at least look the part, according to Vass. And he wasn't the only one insisting the gesture would mean the world to Via.

"For how sheer this is," he complained as he got out of the car, "it is absurdly hot!"

"You could be wearing juicy shorts and nothing else and call it hot, mi amor," laughed Vass.

Andre rolled his eyes, and Vass took his hand.

"I know, love, but it's just a short time," he promised in Spanish. "Then we'll go back to our castle of solitude, and I'll reward all your suffering, yes?"

"You are so lucky you're adorable," Andre scoffed, absolutely not blushing under his pale makeup.

"Yo se. Now, shall we find our companions?"

Andre snorted and let Vass lead him into the crowd. The hot crowd of so many other queers. Andre could only imagine this must be the feeling of being a sardine in a can, if that can was in an active microwave. He carried his nearly-invisible train over one arm so no one would step on it. Not because he cared. He just hated dirt. Also, Via deserved to see it in its pristine glory. And it was Vass's work. Mostly the dirt thing.

"HEY ELSA!"

Andre groaned. In the collective eight hours he'd known Blitzø, that voice had already made a home in his brain like some kind of cuckoo bird. He was happy for Stolas, truly, but… he couldn't find someone less annoying to fuck? Or of his own caste? Someone who's voice wasn't a chorus of nails grinding against asphalt so hard it made his eye twitch?

"Mi amor—."

"I heard him," Andre hissed. "Don't they normally warn against feeding the local wildlife?"

Vass chuckled and shook his head, whispering, "Just don't throttle this one, si?"

"Si, I guess."

He pulled his lacy train closer to his chest and turned around to meet the little shit-stain dating his brother. Who was… with said shit-stain. And so was—

"Via! Darling!"

Andre dropped his gown to rush open-armed to the goth teenager approaching. She didn't react as he threw his arms around her, except to hesitantly pat his back.

"Hey… Uncle Andy. Um. Nice… dress."

"I hate it so much," he breathed in her ear. "But it makes Uncle Vass happy. Do you like it?"

Andre pulled away so she could get a better look. Thin, indigo satin clung to his chest in tight bodice, delicately stitched snowflakes in emerald, wintergreen, and sea foam decorating it before giving way to an iris skirt. Pale blue lace that faded to white composed the train and detached sleeves of the gown. A silver-plated tiara and fake braid completed his impression.

Octavia chuckled and said, "You look ridiculous."

Andre deflated, saying, "I know. Never fall in love, Via."

"Not planning on it."

She held up her hand to show her nails, each painted a different color: navy, blue, white, yellow, and orange.

"Dad helped. He did mine, and I did his," she said with a soft smile.

Andre glanced over and, indeed, noted blue and green nails on his brother's hands. He smirked.

"You know, your mother won't like that."

"I know," pouted Via. "I have to paint them over with the dark blue later, and Dad has to wash his off entirely, if he wants to keep his head."

Stolas tucked his hands into his armpits and added, "We're trying to keep a low profile. I don't anticipate anyone we know seeing us, but… Just in case."

"I doubt hiding your nails will help if our parents see you with me," said Andre.

"Uh, hi, excuse me?" Shit-stain broke in. "Yeah, were we gonna get in on this parade or what? This wig is sweaty as fuck, and I didn't wear my waterproof mascara."

Stolas raised a brow and said, "We're spending the night on a boat. Surrounded by water."

"Surrounded by, not in it," Blitzø sniped back. "I'll be fine. Just need to cool off."

He brushed the back of his hand against Stolas's. Via made a gagging noise, and Stolas drew away.

"Sorry, Starlight," he said, blushing. "It's… an adjustment. We're working on it."

Shit-stain muttered something, then turned with a wave, shouting, "Gonna find the others. And a fucking bathroom."

Stolas bit his lip, glancing back and forth between him and Via. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Just go, Dad."

Like a rubber band snapping, Stolas bounded after his boyfriend.

"I did that dress, too," Vass said softly.

He did, and it was lovely: a classic, off-the-shoulders ballgown in gold with layers of cerise and blue layered over it like paint to create narrow yellow fault line between them. It was just a shame such a wonderful dress would adorn trash like him.

"It's great," agreed Via flatly.

Vass sighed and said, "Aren't you being a bit harsh, dear? I understand not wanting to see that, but-."

"I'm trying to help him! I- That guy makes him so… stupid," she growled. "It's like he wants his own piano-incident!"

Vass sighed and glared sideways at Andre, who held up his hands.

"I kept it child appropriate, Go-Go. I'm not a monster," said Andre.

"And if Blitzø was more like you, Uncle Vass, it might not be so bad, but… Mum will definitely get custody, right? If Grandpa cuts him off Pap did to Uncle Andy?"

Andre bit his lip. Of course his baby sister would get Via, and everything else. Did Via… not know about the prenup?

"Maybe I'm selfish," Via sighed. "I'm… I'm not ready to lose him. I don't want to 'visit on the weekends.' It's not enough time."

"Via, that's-"

"No," Andre snapped, interrupting his partner. "Via, you're seventeen. Still a child. I think it's fine if you're selfish just a bit longer."

And, when he hugged her in reassurance, Via didn't hesitate to return it.

Notes:

Am I doing enough to hype up how much of a cluster fuck the second half of this will be? You see why it's taking me so long despite these short chapters, right?

Chapter 11: A Man Inside

Summary:

When you throw a stone in a lake, water ripples. Maybe no one knows that as well as Valentino, but he's managing well enough.

"What. The. FUCK!"

Valentino glanced up from his drying nails to the wall of monitors he'd become accustomed to these past few years. Vincent had jumped up from his chair and pressed his face against one.

"What's wrong now, chispazo?" He asked with a sigh.

"Our exes!" Vince shouted back, pointing to the screen.

Val snapped back to follow the hand. Indeed, there was his Angel, laughing as if he hadn't ripped Val's heart out and stomped on it months earlier. Laughing at him and tucked between two other men. Val locked onto the shorter of the two as Angel leaned a little more and a little more into him.

"He left me for Mimsy's bitch-faced bartender?" Val shrieked as he stormed to Vince's side. "Vincey! Find out who that is so I can KILL HIM!"

"Oh, I'll find out," Vince growled back. "I'm gonna drag their asses back here to apologize to us!"

He paused the feed, letting the trio burn into the screen and their memories. The Bitch, the Angel, and the Killer all in one frame. Val traced a sharp nail along Bitch's throat. Too fast. No, he would need something slower for it to feel good. Something like… taking a drill to the old man's knees, shattering them to oblivion and putting food just out of reach. He could watch the fat loser drag himself across the floor for days before he got tired of it. Yes, that could do quite nicely. And Vince would praise him for it, yes, because he was just as inventive as Alan.

Val filled his spot on the food chain quite nicely, in his own opinion. Not that it was hard. Sure, Alan left less behind, made work so much harder for the police, but so what? Val made thing disappear, too. Ash knew how to spin a story, Vince greased a palm here or there, and Val took over any necessary… pruning. Seduce, reuse, recycle.

"I don't care, Elliot," Vince shouted into his phone. "Look, if you can't do it, find someone who can. I have research to do!"

He threw his phone against the wall. Val tsked at him.

"Baby, he's all the way under your skin, huh?"

"Fuck off, Val. I'm working!"

Val wagged a finger and said, "Maybe, but you're going to land yourself in the ICU again… Let me help you out. I'm not just good for killing people, after all."

"Shit. Okay, fine! But I'm going to work anyway," said Vince.

With a chuckle, Val sank to his knees and said, "You can try, chispazo."

"Please. I trained like a marine in this sport," Vince laughed, leaning back in his seat.

Val pushed himself under the desk, his own cock stirring at how little Vince cared. For some reason, being ignored turned him on, like it was a test and one he was actually good at taking. Vince wasn't kidding, though. He'd been ignoring people since middle school, he told him during one night of breathless pillow talk. And, while Val and Alan were very much different, he liked to think he was better than the frigid assassin in the sack at least.

So, while Vince typed away, sending orders and inquiries across the nation, Val settled between his knees and ran a tongue up a suited thigh. Vince didn't react, but Val expected that. Hell, he knew that. His dick, however pressed eagerly against his inseam at the attention.

Val kept quiet, not wanting noise to win him this little game of theirs. No, no. His opponent should win by sheer force of will, and, there, Vince showed his worth. He learned from the best, after all.

So had Val.

He lapped at the trousers' crotch, occasionally kissing or nipping to measure how Vince's body betrayed his mind. The clacking of keys continued in steady form, but his pants filled quickly. Val smiled to himself at the reaction and slipped one finger into the waistband. He tasted Vince's memory on his tongue, musky and salty before it was even out of his pants. He stroked through the meadow of hair on Vince's stomach, suppressing another giggle at how he flinched under the touch before resuming work with a growl. Good.

Val wished he understood how Vince could just… work. His own mind moved too fast, got snagged on something like a log that he just couldn't free himself from when he should be focused. Most dreaded falling in with a gang, but Val held onto it like a buoy. When it turned out to be a whole lifeboat, cost be damned, he willingly gave up payment in full to the other occupants. He learned, he studied, he honed his craft into a beautiful reel and started fishing himself, pulling others in and teaching them what he knew.

Fuck Angel Dust anyway. Ungrateful bitch. Val tugged on Vince, wrenching a stuttering moan from him before bringing that glorious dick to the surface where he could see. And what a sight it was, that fat, blushing head dewy with arousal, the curved shaft pulling shyly away like a nervous virgin despite all the many, many, many times Val sucked it dry.

Or the many times he would do it again, he told himself with a grin. He licked up the whole of Vince's cock, making sure the piercing in his tongue pressed firmly against the vein underneath. Vince barely paused, trying to keep up with whatever programs his computer was running instead. Val closed his lips over the head and sucked hard. Vince stiffened under his hands, muscles tight as he pretended to ignore Val, and, oh, didn't that just make Val want to vibrate out of his skin? A tool being used the way it was supposed to be used, just like he'd been taught.

Val let his hands roam, up Vince's thighs, along his waist, down his stomach. Vince acknowledged none of it. He zeroed instead onto his computer, pausing only to scream into his intercom for Kit to be sent up with a whiskey on ice. Val growled and pressed his teeth into the base of Vince's cock like a threat.

"And vodka shots," Vince tacked on. Then, more quietly, he added, "Christ, you're a piece of fucking work, aren't you?"

Val drew back and popped off his dick, saying, "I'm fucking working a piece of you right now. Relax."

"I'll relax when I know what the hell is going on," Vince growled. "I've gotten nothing, not a fucking word, for seven damn years! Why's he in public now?"

Val rolled his eyes and impaled himself on Vince's cock again, letting it spear the back of his throat then flexing around it. Vince hissed at the move then picked up his phone and dialed a new number. Val chuckled and resumed a slow, tender pace up and down Vince's shaft, hands massaging the inside of his thighs.

"Hey, Cy, I know it's your day off, but- No, I'm aware. This is something else. I was just wondering if you were at the parade? Great! How does a massive bonus sound to you? Three thousand." Vince grabbed the back of Val's head and pushed deeper as he told whoever, "It's just shadowing, promise! I'll send you the picture, and you tell me who you see him hanging out with. Real easy work. Do you have to? Ugh. Fuck. Just… Okay, how about I get you a grant? I can pull a few- Perfect. Thank you so much. You're a prime example of the best of VOX Technol-OH! Fuck!"

Val snickered at the way Vince's face contorted when he dug a knuckle into his balls. Vince twisted a braid in his hand and yanked Val off him with a sneer.

"No, no, sorry," he rumbled. "I should apologize to you. I should have given you all my attention. But, yes, you give me what you find out, and I'll make sure you get an extra, say, five, ten thousand for your lasers? Perfect. I'll see you in my office Monday."

He hung up and glared at Val, who only grinned stupidly back, tongue hanging out like he was proud of it. To be fair, he was. He won the game and knew Vince would make him pay.

"Low blow, Valentino. Once Kit's gone," he promised with a snarl, "I'll make you regret using it."

"You keep doing your job, chispazo. I'll do mine."

Notes:

Yeah, I had no idea this was going this direction. The spirit of Valentino somehow took over my body and forced me to write this, and I struggled. But. Here we are! Enjoy!

Chapter 12: A Promise Spoken

Summary:

Lucifer is finally on the scene and ready to dump some lore!

Lucifer Magne kept his eyes shut as he tried to focus on Rodney's voice. He knew it was important, whatever it was, but the words just seemed to flow around him. He nodded and hummed noncommittally when Rodney paused. He repeated things back mechanically, just as rehearsed. Underneath, though, he twitched uncontrollably. What if Charlotte said no? What if the Calypso really was cursed? Maybe it just didn't like him? Worse, what if everything went just fine? That would mean he was the problem. Was he the problem? He though he'd done everything right; he certainly tried to, at least, yet he was here, and Lily was… who knew? Maybe he should ignore her wishes and hire someone to find—.

"Gum?"

Lucifer's attention snapped to Devon. He held out a foil-wrapped strip of candy, which Lucifer took quickly with a sigh.

"Thank you, Dev," he said before popping the gum into his mouth. "Quitting's a bitch."

"You also focus better when you're chewing," said Rodney, setting his clipboard down next to him. "But I suppose today isn't a good day for that in the first place."

"What do you mean?"

Devon and Rodney exchanged a glance. Times like this, when they sat next to each other, no one needed to be told they were twins, each a perfect reflection of the other. Hell, even after sixteen years of knowing the duo, Lucifer still had to watch their hands to tell them apart. Right-hand Rodney, his second-in-command, brushed his orange hair to the side with a smirk.

"This trip has occupied a lot of your mind lately," he said. "It's noticeable."

"Distractingly," Devon added with a nod.

"It's not hard to gather why."

Lucifer sighed and leaned back in his seat.

"If I can offer just a little advice, sir," Rodney said slowly, waiting until Lucifer nodded to continue. "Maggie asked for your help. She trusts you to make sure this goes right. That you know what goes on in Charlotte's head."

Lucifer snickered. "I hardly know what's going on in mine. But, no, it's not today I'm worried about."

"Should be."

Lucifer and Rodney both snapped to look at Devon. He rolled his eyes.

"Tomorrow's a whole day away. So is yesterday. Why dwell on them when the important thing is now?"

"Devon, there are entire books written-!"

"Now, hold on, Rod. That might not be good advice for the long term, but maybe not bad for just… this?" Lucifer asked. "Maybe? Is one night going to destroy optics? Is it going to hurt constituents? It's not like I'm up for reelection. In 18 months, I'm done. But Maggie's asking to change the rest of her life today. Maybe we don't worry? Just tonight?"

Rodney blinked in surprise, body stuck in a blue-screen before he relaxed minutely.

"Yes. One night," he agreed. "I… suppose it is the more pressing issue, speaking long-term."

Lucifer mouthed a thank you to Devon, earning a nod back. Rodney, meanwhile, packed his things back into his briefcase.

And Devon was probably right, thought Lucifer, running a finger over the gold band he couldn't take off. The news stopped talking about it long ago, the rumors put to bed in a single interview.

 

"Your divorce finalized two years ago, Governor Mange," Katie reminded him, her saccharine voice more harsh in his mind than reality. "Why do you still wear your ring?"

Lucifer looked at it. Smiled. Kept his public facade of a wise leader up.

"I take my promises very seriously, Katie. That's why people chose to to reelect me."

Devon squeezed his shoulder, and Rodney stepped forward.

"I'm sorry, Miss Katie. That's all we have time for today," he said kindly. "Please let me know if…"

His voice faded as Devon ushered Lucifer from the room. The moment the door shut, Lucifer broke. Devon pulled him into a hug and let him sob.

 

"Sir?"

Lucifer looked up with a squeak. Rodney smiled back and tilted his head towards the door as it opened, letting light flood into the limousine. Lucifer pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and put them on.

"All right, then," he chuckled, climbing out. "Let's start this show."

Calypso was lovely as the first time he saw her. Nearly 450 feet of polished white iron and steel. He… didn't remember the other metrics. He did remember Room 516. He remembered the way the ocean salt mingled wtih Lily's perfume, the violet sundress she wore when he knelt in front of her, the tickle of prosecco on his tongue afterwards. With a deep breath, he marched towards the ship.

"Dev, Rod, we have to make sure everything is absolutely perfect, got it? This is my little girl's big day!"

Devon chuckled as Rodney insisted that the "big day" usually comes after the proposal, which Lucifer waved off.

"No, no. Trust me. The wedding is big, and the feeling stays with you, but there's so much going on! It's busy and fussy and blugh! The proposal is about the details. Every single one stays with you, even after you get a book chucked at your head, verbally crucified, and abandoned. I'm fine! I can feel you thinking at each other."

"Apologies, Sir."

"Uncle Lu!"

Lucifer held out both arms as a twiggy punk girl rushed towards him.

"Buzzy-Bee!"

After a tight hug, Lucifer drew back and lowered his shades. Beatrice beamed at him, all grown up. Her formerly blonde hair was now shaved on one side, dyed pink and blue on the other, and woven into a tight braid. Red and purple smears of probably frosting streaked her flushed cheeks. Most importantly—

"When did you get taller than me, huh?" Lucifer asked playfully. "You know you weren't supposed to do that!"

"Lu, everyone's taller than you," she snickered. "I'm so glad you got here early, though. I have a surprise! Mom's up top doing some finishing touches, and I have to— Shit! Just take the elevator to the deck. I'll make sure we see you before we take off!"

"Aw, you're not staying?" Lucifer pouted.

"I'm sorry! I promised to host a little party of my own tonight."

"Ah, well, if you promised, I won't keep you. To the deck, boys!"

A little pep back in his step, Lucifer stopped briefly to show his invitation to the desk clerk, got his and the twins's room keys, and led his detail into the elevator. Devon hit the topmost button, and the doors slipped shut.

"That's your niece?" Rodney asked.

"Adoptive. Sort of. I've talked about The Circle before, haven't I?" Lucifer said, and Rodney waved his hand, like it sounded familiar. "It started out just me, Lily, and Oz. Then, on this ship, the three of us ended up across the hall from Stanton Fields."

"Judge Fields?" Devon echoed.

"Wasn't a judge yet! He was having one last hoo-rah before law school with his buddy, Henrick. We all kind of clicked right away, ended up at a table with Belle and Zoey, pulled them into The Circle… Then Hen and Oz started flirting with the twins, so of course, they got roped in, too. On the last night, we all promised to stick together. Take care of each other. You know, like family."

Rodney and Devon hummed in understanding, and the elevator eased to a stop. The door opened again to a bright, sunny deck, and Lucifer stepped confidently out. The soft breeze greeted him first, followed by a high squeal. He peeked at the woman rushing towards him.

The way Zoey aged could only be called "unfair." She looked more like Bee's twin than her mother, the same sun-kissed bronze skin and storm-blue eyes. Her strawberry curls piled high on her head, pinned into a faux-hawk that belonged in the '80s yet looked perfect on her. And, just like her daughter, she swept him into a tight embrace, lifting him from the ground and swinging him around.

"It's been too long, Lu! It's hell to try getting ahold of you!" she bubbled, setting him back down. "You better be fucking grateful we were willing to set this up for you. You could call on occasion!"

Lucifer chuckled and said, "Well, I could, but this is more fun. Zizi, my assistants: Devon and Rodney Azel."

He guestured to the pair. Devon nodded, and Rodney waved. Zoey squealed and clapped at them.

"Where did you find people shorter than you, Lu? Not important. You two, go help Belle with the balloons. We've got so many left, and she's so far behind."

"You should know better than to put Belle in charge of anything," Lucifer chided as the twins obeyed with only a little hesitation.

Zoey rubbed her temples and sighed, "It's this new med she's trying. Plus, last year's outbreak—."

"Oh, no need to tell me," Lucifer laughed painfully. "I'm still recovering myself. We're just lucky it wasn't more serious, right?"

"I'll say," she laughed. Then she looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Bee-bee. You all set up?"

Lucifer followed her gaze. Beatrice, sandwiched between a tall goth and a wall of a man, one arm wrapped around each, smiled triumphantly.

"All good! Just wanted Uncle Lu to meet my partners before we head out," she said. "So this is my boyfriend, Tex. We've been together about 2 years now."

Lucifer held out his hand, and Tex shook it, his massive dark hand absolutely enveloping Lucifer's.

"Good to meet you, Governor," he said, voice booming not from volume but sheer bass.

"And my girlfriend, Loona! She joined us about nine months ago, and we both love her so much," Beatrice cooed, hands on the goth's shoulders.

Lucifer pulled his hand from Tex to extend to Loona, who shrank back. Beatrice leaned into her ear and whispered something. Loona reached out and slapped his palm like some kind of five before crossing her arms again. Lucifer laughed.

"Okay, that's one way to do it!" he chuckled. "Anywho! You have fun at your party, kids, okay?"

Zoey cleared her throat and said, "Excuse me, what party?"

"Less a party, more a date," Beatrice said with a shrug.

"Food first," Loona grumbled, then looked at Lucifer again. "Sorry in advance, if my dad does something stupid."

"Oh, who's your dad?"

"The stupid one."

She threw an arm around Beatrice like it belonged there and tilted her head towards the elevator. Tex laughed softly.

"We'll take care of her, Miss Zeelan," he said, taking Beatrice's hand. "Have a good night."

"They seem nice," Lucifer said as the trio headed out.

Zoey shrugged and said, "Tex is nice. I'm still on the fence about Loona, but she's starting to open up."

"That's 'opening up?'"

"Nah," Zoey laughed, "that's her meeting an authority figure. She just got comfortable around me in, what was it? March? I wanna say March…"

"Hey, it's nearly four," Lucifer interrupted. "Shouldn't we get a move on? Shake a leg?"

Zoey laughed and waved a hand.

"Lucy, don't worry a moment. My hands are more than capable!"

Notes:

...

I'm trying to finish this by September 10.

Chapter 13: Big Changes

Summary:

Oz has a dad moment, Fizz has a meltdown, and Morgan has to work on this more.

In Oz's defense, he wasn't actively trying to ignore his kid. He just didn't care to make conversation once he'd crammed into the taxi's front seat. Besides, Little Ozzie never said anything, either. They settled into the back with their partner and waited quietly the whole ride to the ship. Really, he only noticed anything amiss when Rico hesitated getting back out. Oz opened the door to crouch in front of him.

"They're not acting up, are they?" he asked.

Rico flinched, then pulled his right leg to his chest. The mechanics looked smooth as they were new, and the new case gleamed like porcelain as the sunlight bounced off the pink and blue flowers decorating the white surface.

"No," he said softly. "Sorry. For the… plane."

A bark of a laugh burst from Oz, and Rico shrank further back. Fuck, Little Ozzie wasn't kidding about how jumpy the kid was, he noted. He raised a hand and gently squeezed Rico's shoulder.

"Hey. It's a joke," he explained. "I'm not actually mad, Rico."

Rico relaxed some, but his frown stayed firm.

"I guess… I just didn't expect the quiet."

Oz laughed again, saying, "Yeah, we're usually pretty raucous. I know my kid, Rico. If I was serious about not wanting them to do something, I wouldn't put the idea out. For us, 'don't you dare' is the dare."

"Half the reason I color my hair is 'cause of that," Little Ozzie said, pushing Oz's suitcase to him. "I said it as a joke, he says—."

"'Don't you fucking dare, you little punk.'"

"—so, first thing I did when I had the cash was hit a salon for a tint!"

"Whereas 'don't seduce my friend's client' was something I was hoping to not have to deal with, so I didn't say it," said Oz.

Little Ozzie snorted with a quiet, "my bad."

"I won't lie; it's been stressful, trying to keep the peace between all of you," Oz admitted, "but it's not the first time making Ozzie happy's been work. Not the first time it's been worth it, either, and I think you'll agree with me on that."

Rico chuckled and said, "Yeah. Mostly. I have a few boundaries."

"Oh, my god, would you guys pay me and let me leave?" the taxi driver exclaimed.

Oz laughed again and hurried over to pay the tab. Then he joined the kids on their trek towards the ship.

"You seem excited," Little Ozzie teased.

"Am I?"

"Haven't seen you this smiley since you first saw Fizzy walking."

Oz waved a hand and said, "Bah. Blame the nostalgia. You know I have good memories of this girl!"

"Right, right… the circle got formed and Uncle Lu proposed."

"It was sure something. And, hey, they say history likes to repeat itself!"

If Lucifer had managed to keep his loose lips sealed, that is. Oz loved the guy, but he couldn't keep a secret for shit.

"Better not," Rico snickered. "I don't need this bullshit government getting into my personal business, right Ozzie?"

"Nah, I'm happy how we are."

Oz quirked a brow and hummed in agreement, pretending Little Ozzie hadn't spent the last five years bitching about one specific thing. But, once again, he was sworn to utter secrecy on the topic. Damn his stupid, trustworthy poker-face. At least one would be over soon. Plus, Rico seemed more himself again, especially once they were finally on board. He almost bounced as the steward watched him through bright purple glasses. Oz sighed and rolled up to the desk.

"Hey, there," he paused to read the pin on their shirt, "Miggzy? That's… quite a name!"

They tucked a stray lock of copper hair behind an ear and laughed, "You're in for a whole night of that, sir. I've seen the reservation list, and… it's something."

"That sure sounds like Charlie. Mendez. Second and Third," he said, pointing to himself and Little Ozzie.

"Very cool, very cool! Guests of honor, room 707 and 709. And this is for Oswald the Third. Show stuff."

They handed over the key cards before pulling an envelope from beneath the desk. Oz the Elder smirked, recognizing Zizi's handwriting, as the Younger took it from them.

"Looking forward to the performance," Miggzy bubbled. "Wish I had the balls to do drag."

"Confidence is built, not gifted," Little Ozzie said.

Miggzy chuckled, saying, "I'm confident I can play a dead guy. Anything past that is iffy. Have a nice evening, though!"

They all waved and shuffled into the elevator where Little Ozzie opened the package.

"So this ship has all the bells and whistles?" Rico asked. "Ozzie's kinda spoiled me these last few years. I don't think I can handle a normal bath anymore."

"It's no executive suite, but you'll be fine. We had basic-ass rooms our first trip, and even they had—."

"Mother fucker," hissed Little Ozzie.

"Babe?"

"You okay, kiddo?" asked Oz.

Little Ozzie handed a paper to Rico and pointed at a name. Oz winced.

"Wow, that steward wasn't joking," he snorted. "What the hell kind of name is 'Mustang Dong?'"

"That… BITCH!" roared Rico. "I'm gonna kill him!"

"Okay, someone you know, then," Oz deduced out loud.

"He blew me up!"

Oz flinched again as the paper in Rico's hands ripped. Little Ozzie squeezed him close, trying to cocoon the much smaller man in their own body. In the past, they'd done this to calm panic attacks, Oz remembered. And, while this didn't remotely resemble a panic attack, he did seem to unravel in their arms as they whispered to him.

"I'll talk to Auntie Zi. We'll figure something out," they told Rico. "I won't let him anywhere near you, okay? Promise. I'll throw him off the ship if he can't behave."

Oz nodded, too. Of all things that could ruin the night, damned if he let his kids be one of them.

Notes:

It's me! Hi! I'm the steward, it's me!

Chapter 14: Secrets and Deals

Summary:

Stolas suddenly realizes that he knows almost nothing.

Everything is fine, Stolas reminded himself as he boarded the ship. Via had already texted that she was home and Stella was not. The love of his life walked just in front of him. He'd turned off the location on his phone and triple-checked his luggage for a tracker. Not that Stella would put a tracker on him, but better safe than stupid, right? She wouldn't show up here, though. She couldn't.

"Hey. 614 or 712?" Blitzø asked over his shoulder.

"Seven-twelve is on the deck," offered the steward.

"Like hell are M and M getting a deck room," Blitzø growled. "Seven-twelve it is!"

"You fellas part of the drag show?" asked Steward.

Behind Stolas, Max sighed.

"Unfortunately," he hissed. "Key?"

Blitzø stuck his tongue out but handed Max the card. His own keycard went right down his dress.

"You're going to make me fish that out, aren't you?" Stolas chuckled.

"No, but I am gonna make you carry me," said Blitzø. "It's been a while since I wore good heels."

"I think you'd have more luck carrying me, Darling. You can just… take them off?"

Blitzø sighed and said, "Yeah, I guess. But then I look short!"

"I think you look perfect."

"No, he looks short," said Max as the elevator lurched to life.

"I swear to fucking god, Max, one phone call is all I'd need—."

"To lose your whole business?"

Blitzø scoffed and rolled his eyes. Stolas grinned softly at Max. Calling one of Blitzø's bluffs took guts, something Stolas didn't remotely have, in all honesty. Millie leaned up to nuzzle Max's neck in support, too. He'd grown… so much in the last two years. From a shy and reserved child to a confident young man.

Maybe there was still hope, then.

The doors opened, and Millie and Max stepped off, hand-in-hand, leaving Stolas and Blitzø alone for just a moment longer. A very quiet moment. Stolas's hand twitched, itching to slip into Blitzø's and stayed only by past threats to prolong their time apart. He was lucky to even have this time. He was greedy when it came to Blitzø's affection and wasn't ashamed of that.

Again, the elevator halted and released them onto the deck. Stolas plopped his sunglasses over his eyes while his partner ignored the sudden barrage of light. Blitzø grinned over his shoulder and adjusted his gym bag. And, like an obedient pup, Stolas followed.

"Oh, this is lovely," said Stolas, scanning the deck covered in streamers and balloons. "I haven't been on a ship in some time."

"Yeah? This one better than the last?"

"I think so. I wonder if Via would like a cruise for her birthday next year…"

"Who wouldn't? Maybe someone afraid of water or can't swim, I guess, but, heh. Yeah, ships are… great. Sure she'd love that."

"Are you all right, Blitzy?"

Blitzø paused then scanned the room card and pushed into their room.

"Fine," he said quietly. "It's all hunky-dory."

Stolas bit his lip but said nothing. Blitzø would only talk when he wanted to, and, if he didn't want to, no force in heaven or hell would make him, another lesson Stolas learned quickly. Instead, he stepped into the room behind Blitzø.

He immediately cooed at the decor: Lovely navy wallpaper and white panels, navy and aqua bedding with embroidered anchors on the pillows, beautiful beech flooring, and a bright dome light in the middle of the room. A small room, yes, but that was normal for any cruise ship. It screamed luxury regardless, even as Blitzø threw his duffel into a corner with the finesse of a drunk stage magician.

"Oh, Blitzy, isn't this perfect? So cozy!"

"Yep, it's great. I'm gonna go check out that open bar," Blitzø sighed.

He hurried out of the room without another word. Stolas sighed, opened his suitcase, then closed it again. He plopped onto the bed next to it.

What the hell was he doing?

This was a horrible idea. So many people… And if word got out…

The slam of a door jolted him from his thoughts. Blitzø returned and now had his back pressed against the door like he expected someone to break it down. Stolas could hear his teeth grinding.

"Blitzy—?"

"I can't do it," said Blitzø. "I-I-I… Who even invited him?"

"An ex of yours?"

Blitz scoffed, "I wish. That would be so much easier to deal with! It's… An old friend of mine."

Stolas giggled, "Sorry. That sounds like a good thing."

"Maybe if I hadn't damn near killed him."

"Ah."

"Look, just… Can you tell Ange I'm sorry? See if he can do the routine with Maxxie?" Blitzø pleaded, mostly with his eyes, as he pulled his wig off.

"Of course, Darling. Which room is it?"

"Fuck. He said across the hall from M and M, so, like… 617? Ish? Hell if I know."

He held out the wig, and, with a sigh, Stolas took it. He liked doing things for Blitzø, really, he did… Those "things" just normally involved money, not talking to strangers.

"Hey."

Stolas looked up. Blitzø smirked as he removed his earrings.

"If you hurry," he said softly, "I might still be in the shower when you get back."

Stolas nearly tripped over his own feet as he scrambled into the hallway.

The room across the hall was actually 615, and no one answered that one when he knocked. The resident of room 617, however, rolled her eyes and gestured to the other side before asking if he wanted some "blow." Stolas declined as politely as he could, and she rolled her eyes with a smirk.

"Don't tell Blitzø, but I got acid, too, if that's more your style."

Stolas laughed nervously, saying, "Oh, no, no, thank you. I'm quite… Why not tell Blitzø?"

"That freak does not handle it well," she said. "He's good with snow, though. Keep it on the down, but if he's looking to score, I got him covered. I'm Cherri."

She held out her rough little hand. With a small smile, Stolas shook it, her work-toughened fingers familiar in his gentle grip.

"So… Angel is in 613, then?" he asked when she let him go.

"Yep."

"And Miss Cherri has… snow in 617? Is that right?"

"You got it."

"Alright, then. Well, I'll leave you to it, then. Thank you."

Cherri winked and clicked at him, then shut the door. Stolas shuffled down to the correct room.

Blitzø certainly knew some… characters. Stolas knocked, at last, on the correct door.

Another man, about the same height as Blitzø and several shades darker, opened it. Not Angel.

"I'm sorry," sputtered Stolas," I'm just looking for Angel, and—."

"We're roommates," Shorty said, crossing his arms. "What'd you need?"

"I— Rather, my partner… He needs to drop out of the show later. I was supposed to ask if Angel can do it in his place?"

Shorty sighed and shook his head. Then he smirked.

"I'm sure he will. Wasn't happy about not being on stage in the first place, but I wanted him to chill out, know what I mean?"

Stolas chuckled, but… did he know? Should he do things like that? Most of their little rendezvous were centered around Stolas relaxing. Blitzø was enjoying things, wasn't he? He seemed happy, had invited him to shower with him if he would just move faster.

"Been meaning to talk to you, anyway."

Stolas blinked and squeaked, "Me?"

"Yeah. I doubt you remember, but I was at the VoxTech announcement. You had Fireball and whiskey and tried to hide behind a plant."

Stolas winced. He remembered the pitiful potted ficus deltoidea and how he'd petted it's leaves in a half-drunken state. He remembered the dead-end 'networking' from the night and subsequent shut-down when the owners announced how exclusive their contracts would be.

"Anyway. I don't know how much work you do with them—."

"I assure you, none," Stolas said quickly. "I was considering it for the briefest of moments, yes, but I was… How to phrase it… 'put off' by how they talked. It felt…"

"Exploitative?"

"Precisely! Besides, I work more with models than actors. Not that it matters. If I recall correctly, Angel's contract—."

"Is void," said Shorty firmly. "Not my place to share the details, but he's running solo now. So, if you really don't associate with them… He could use the help."

Stolas chewed his lip, then said, "I'll take another look at his portfolio. Thank you. Angel is… very fortunate to have a partner like you."

Shorty snorted, "Sure. Maybe once he's sober." His face suddenly turned serious and he added, "Don't tell him I said that. Kid needs to choose it on his own, not in hopes of getting dick."

"Right… No, I'll keep it between us, Mister…?"

"Jerry Husker. You're Burgundy, right? Looked you up when Ange told me he was trading favors with that horny photographer, Bintz."

"Blitzø," Stolas corrected automatically, running his fingers through the wig in his hands. "My partner's name is Blitzø."

Husker frowned and muttered, "Damn. My condolences."

"Uh, 'scuse me!"

Stolas jumped. A fresh head of blonde hair and blue-green eyeshadow ducked around him and into the room. He handed a brown bottle to Husker. Angel Dust.

"You said Johnny, right?" he asked.

"Johnny Blue, huh? Color me spoiled," Husker laughed. "You got a visitor."

"Huh? Oh," Angel turned pale as he took in Stolas's presence. "Holy shit, you're—!"

"Just delivering a message, for the moment," Stolas laughed, probably too loud. "Blitzy's in a bit of a situation and can't do the act. Could you be so kind—?"

"Cover for him?" Angel smirked and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, why not? I'm not doing anything too important tonight. Unless…"

"Fuck no."

"You're too kind, Angel. I'll get back to you Monday morning— Monday afternoon," Stolas corrected at Angel's snarl, "about possibly taking over as your agent."

"Really? 'Cause I'll do anything. Whatever lets me start helping out with rent, I'm up for it!"

Stolas pushed up his smile again, saying, "Of course. I'm sure I can find you something. I'll… let you prepare now."

He really wasn't in such a hurry to get back upstairs anymore, though.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 10 of Hazbins and Wanna-Bes