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Stolas’ mood was still low. Sure, there were flashes of spark, flashes of excitement around the office as he prepped hits. He had become more productive in the office after their group pep talk, Millie’s comforting words:
“Don’t say you don’t deserve nothing, you’re one of us now.”
When Stolas said he didn’t deserve their friendship, their support, that he didn’t deserve anything. Blitzø was grateful that Millie had stepped in before he had really popped off at the bird. Stolas’ feelings made his skin itchy. He wanted to scream: If you don’t deserve anything, then what does that mean for me? Because I don’t deserve shit.
So Stolas was slowly making progress at IMP, becoming more comfortable around his coworkers each day. But at home, in the quiet of the apartment, Blitzø knew he was still miserable. They hadn’t talked about what happened between them, and Blitzø was glad Stolas seemed just as eager to avoid the topic. What else was there to say? Sure, Stolas was a condescending, pompous, rich bitch, but he wasn’t the one that fucked things up between them—no, it was his fault for believing the worst because he could never imagine a prince falling in love with an imp, especially an imp like Blitzø Buckzo.
Tonight, Stolas had been standing out on the balcony, smoking alone. After giving him some space, Blitzø joined him.
“I miss my plants, my vast gardens. I had so many houseplants to keep me company when I was lonely. Seems silly, but they were a great comfort to me for many years. I had painstakingly developed my garden since I was a teen, and Andrealphus destroyed it all.”
Blitzø had taken Stolas’ hand, like he had many times before when he sought to comfort him, the only place he dared to touch him. It seemed to snap Stolas out of his daze, and he turned and looked down at him. Not wanting to press his luck, Blitzø had squeezed his hand one last time and dropped it.
“I’m sorry, Stols.”
Because what else was there to say when saving your life meant it cost Stolas everything?
So, in the spirit of trying not fuck things up with the depressed bird and making amends, Blitzø had devised a brilliant idea. A fool-proof plan to cheer up Stolas and make the apartment more like his palace. It involved just a little stealing from some poor schmuck on earth and nabbing a plant. Child’s play.
Passing through the portal, Blitzø stepped onto the sidewalk of a typical suburban neighborhood. The streets were quiet, and everyone was fast asleep. Chuckling to himself, Blitzø slithered into one front lawn and peered through a window. He scowled when he saw the half-dead plants littering the family room.
“Fucking black thumb,” Blitzø sighed.
He took off for the next home, then the one after that, until he finally found a house with healthy-looking plants inside.
“B-Y-N-G-O,” he whispered.
Blitzø slipped out his knife and carefully opened the window enough for him to crawl in. Peeking from left to right, he quickly saw the coast was clear; the humans hadn’t heard his intrusion. Letting out a sigh of relief, Blitzø quickly walked to the couch to inspect the table behind it, covered with houseplants. But which one to pick?
One plant had long vines that looked like a bitch to carry. Another, he inspected closely, cautiously poking it as one of its spines pricked Blitzø’s finger. He yelped, clutching his hand as he growled at the offensive plant.
“I’m not picking you, fucker,” he whispered.
Blitzø then turned his attention to a small plant with pointed leaves in a ceramic pot. It was unassuming but kind of cute, not unlike Stolas as he was now, the shy untitled nerd. Maybe he would like this one? It certainly would be easy to carry…
He stretched out his arm to swipe the pot, but froze when he heard growling behind him. Reaching for his knife, Blitzø spun around to find a large grey dog snarling at him. He gripped his knife tighter, looking over at the open window, assessing how quickly he could grab the plant and make his escape. The dog inched closer, baring his teeth, saliva dripping.
“Nice, doggie, I’m not here to hurt you,” Blitzø cooed. “I’m just going to take this plant here, and I’ll be outta here.”
The dog wasn’t pacified, still coming at him. Blitzø knew he could easily overpower the dog; hell, all he had to do was grab his pistol, and it would be the end of it. But the very thought made his stomach drop, bile rising in his throat. The dog resembled Loona in coat color and temperament. He was frozen, his hand gripping his knife slightly shaking as the dog transformed into his daughter before his eyes.
“I am a people person!”
Pain seared through his hand, the vision snapped away, and Blitzø looked down at his bleeding hand firmly in the dog’s mouth.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Blitzø hissed, dropping his knife.
He tugged his hand, but it was firmly lodged in the dog’s teeth. Blitzø gripped the dog’s snout with his other hand and violently yanked until his bloody hand was free. He whipped around and grabbed the little plant. The dog lunged for him, his teeth snagging the arm of his jacket, which was ripped off as Blitzø rushed towards the window. He leaped to the window’s ledge and slammed his horn up against the check rail.
“Christ on a stick!” Blitzø shouted in pain.
A light turned on upstairs, and Blitzø could hear hurried footsteps from above him. The dog latched onto his leg as Blitzø pulled to free himself until he fell out of the window, landing on his face. Inspecting the plant, he was pleased that the pot hadn’t shattered on impact. The dog was barking hysterically, and he could hear human voices getting louder. Blitzø quickly ducked into the neighbor’s yard and hid under a bush. He quickly wrapped his bleeding hand, the dressing quickly stained black, and reinforced his horn, which hurt like a bitch, causing a sharp headache. Picking up the potted plant, he rubbed his crystal and jumped through the portal and into his apartment.
“I’m back!” Blitzø shouted, looking around for Stolas.
“I am over here, Blitzø,” Stolas singed out.
Blitzø smiled when he found Stolas cooking in the kitchen, a new hobby he had picked up recently.
“Hello, pretty bird,” Blitzø smiled, his chest puffed out. “Look what I got you.” He shoved the plant up, reaching as high as he could.
“Oh, Blitzø,” Stolas gushed, his voice warbling slightly. “You didn’t have to.” He gently took the pot from Blitzø and gazed at the plant reverently. “Ah, these are pothos. How fascinating to see this earth plant up close. Blitzø I—”
His voice cut short when he finally looked down at the imp, his eyes growing wide. Blitzø gazed back up at him, his hands twisting together, his tail whipping around as he waited for an explanation on Stolas’ sudden mood shift.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, why is he looking at me like that? I thought he liked the plant? How did I fuck this up already?
“Blitzø,” Stolas whispered, “what happened to you?”
Blitzø let out the breath he was holding. “What? This?” He pointed to his torn jacket. “It’s nothing, Stols. I’m fine. Where should we put the plant?”
Stolas didn’t answer him; instead, he continued to stare, his small pupils moving rapidly. He finally set the pothos down on the kitchen counter and bent down to inspect Blitzø.
“Oh, Blitzø,” he murmured. He cautiously lifted Blitzø’s injured hand.
Blitzø felt his cheeks growing warm. “I said it wasn’t a big deal, Stolas. It’s just a scratch.”
“This looks to be more than just a scratch,” Stolas retorted.
“I’ll be fine—”
The words died in his mouth as Stolas scooped him into his arms and carried Blitzø into the bathroom.
“Stolas, what are you doing?” he asked.
“Someone has to take care of you,” Stolas mused. “I don’t know what you were thinking.”
“I was trying to do something nice for you,” Blitzø grumbled.
Stolas didn’t say anything, silently setting Blitzø down and turning on the bath faucet. Turning back to the imp, Stolas curled his talons around Blitzø’s jacket and slipped it off of him.
“What are you doing?” Blitzø gulped.
“I am doing something nice for you,” Stolas replied.
Blitzø stood stunned, unable to move or protest as Stolas stripped off his remaining clothes. Gingerly cradling his injured hand, Stolas slowly unwrapped the bandage while Blitzø hissed with pain. Once off, Blitzø looked down and saw that his hand was badly mangled.
“What did this to you?” Stolas asked.
“A dog,” Blitzø winced.
Stolas nodded, picking up Blitzø once more and settling him in the bathtub. The warm water enveloping his aching muscles was a Satansend. He rested his injured hand against the rim of the tub, out of the water.
“I am going to have to wash your hand,” Stolas coaxed.
Blitzø grumbled but didn’t argue when Stolas gently submerged his bleeding hand. It hurt like a bitch, but he put on a brave face, not wanting to look like pussy in front of Stolas.
“I guess I have a new hole,” he quipped.
“I’d rather you didn’t have any additional holes,” Stolas replied.
“Yeah, ‘cause you like the holes I got.”
Stolas froze, and Blitzø immediately regretted what he’d said. Thankfully, Stolas recovered without commenting and resumed cleaning his wound. Blitzø sat silently watching him, too nervous to say anything, knowing that doing so risked fucking things up more than he already had. Getting the plant seemed like the perfect idea, and all he managed to do was piss off Stolas. Well, at least he wasn’t depressed. Being mad at him was progress, wasn’t it?
Lifting his hand, Stolas carefully examined the wound. He let out a bird noise and settled it back onto the rim of the bathtub. He stood, left Blitzø briefly, and returned with a towel and fresh bandages.
“You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger for my sake, Blitzø,” Stolas finally said as he wrapped Blitzø’s hand.
Blitzø rolled his eyes. “I was hardly in any danger, Stols. It was just an earth dog.”
Stolas sighed and pumped soap onto Blitzø’s horse sponge. He methodically rubbed the sponge across Blitzø’s arms, torso, and the back of his head.
“Does your horn hurt?” he asked.
It hurt like hell. Regretfully, Blitzø nodded. Stolas unwrapped the bandage and inspected his horn.
“It doesn’t appear to be damaged,” Stolas deduced.
He reached for Blitzø’s bottle of oil and began rubbing his horns. Blitzø grimaced as his horn was tugged, his head still tender. Stolas’ hands moved down his horn until they reached his head. Stolas slowly massaged his head, carefully oiling the spikes and rubbing in between them.
Blitzø let out a moan, barely registering it as Stolas’ hands rubbed his neck, then his shoulders.
“Does that feel alright?” Stolas asked.
“Yessss,” Blitzø hissed, his eyes closed.
“Good.”
“You know, you don’t have to do this,” Blitzø replied, opening one eye to glance up at Stolas.
“Think of it as my way of saying thank you,” Stolas said.
Blitzø relaxed into Stolas’ ministrations. If Stolas wanted to touch him, he wasn’t going to complain. He would take anything Stolas was willing to give him. Fine by him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you purr before,” Stolas murmured.
Blitzø jerked up, instantly fully alert.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Was that rude of me to point out?” Stolas asked worriedly.
“No, no,” Blitzø quickly tried to reassure him. “Just means you’re, uh, doing it right.”
“I see.”
Blitzø was staring at anything but Stolas, his cheeks burning once again. He heard Stolas stand and walk over to the bathroom sink, turning on the faucet to wash his hands. Quickly, Blitzø took advantage of Stolas’ absence to drain the tub and get out, wrapping a towel around himself.
“I s-supose I should give you some privacy while you change,” Stolas stammered.
“Yeah, thanks,” Blitzø replied awkwardly.
Once Stolas left, he threw on a horse shirt and a pair of shorts. He left the bathroom and found Stolas examining the potted plant.
“So, do you know where you want to put it?” he asked.
“Yes,” Stolas said finally. “Pride stays warm, so it will do well outside on the party balcony. Perhaps we could acquire more plants for the space?” he asked hopefully.
“Yeah, I can get you more plants,” Blitzø smirked.
“Only if you promise to be more careful,” Stolas insisted.
“Alright, don’t get your feathered ass all bent outta shape.”
Stolas rolled his eyes, but smiled as he went out to the balcony. Blitzø sat on the couch and watched Stolas set the plant down and carefully check its soil. Resting his chin in his hand, Stolas swept back into the apartment and grabbed a cup of water.
“We need a watering can,” he remarked as he gracefully stepped back onto the balcony.
“I’ll get you one,” Blitzø replied, smiling softly.
Fuck, I’m such a simp for that bird.