Chapter Text
Stolas stared at the display of onesies in front of him.
There were. So. Many.
His taloned hands skittered on the cloth. You had to be particular, with cloth on feathers. If you got the wrong type, it would pull at them while you moved, and it was painful indeed.
He had learnt the lesson with his darling Via. He winced, remembering. Well, at least he could do better with his son.
Even amidst the ones with the right kind of sheer fabric, there were so many different choices! He discarded the one with “feed me, peasant!” but he was very unsure between two, one of which had “Curse Satan, I am cute!” on and the other one was decorated with flowers.
In the end, he took both.
Of course, the best solution would have been to get tailor-made clothes, but that would have involved a tailor and well, it was a whole can of worms.
Blitzø had asked it of him, after they woke on the floor, all cricked neck and, at least in his case, a full heart. After they had feed Orion (Orion! His son, their son! He had a son!) and sat in front of the cabin, Stolas with the baby in his arms, rocking him as Orion looked around with vivid interest.
He was such a clever baby already! Stolas was cooing.
Blitzø had cleared his throat then and looked at Stolas. “When you go back to Hell, could you get some clothes for him?” His words had been hesitant, his tail swishing with what Stolas now knew was uncertainty. “I think it would be better than buckskin.”
Stolas blinked.
“Oh! Of course!” He looked around at the house. His sons had food, clearly, and some kind of clothes but he sees now that the mobile he had been playing it is made of bones and twigs and pinecones, and that he had been, indeed, sleeping in a drawer-
His arms curls around the so small form, remembering Octavia’s princely cradle, and the multitude of toys she had even before she could play with them. His own childhood, bereft of peer but filled with material… stuff.
Orion is lacking, for a child of his house he is lacking terribly.
It needs addressing immediately.
Starting with cute onesies.
Blitzø had looked at him, and groaned. “Five.”
Stolas had blinked. “Five what?”
“Total things you are bringing, birdie. You are not filling the cabin with plastic crap.”
Stolas looked at Blitzø and felt his face feel. Just five…?
Blitzø groaned, his hand massaging his own face.
“f*ck alright, ten, but nothing too big, Christ on a stick I’ll have to add a whole room for the crap you are going to bring.”
Stolas had smiled, brightly, and cooed at the interested form of their son in his arms. “Your daddy is a very good daddy, Orion.”
“For Satan’s sake don’t use that word!”
He had laughed them, a sound that felt as rusty as his sound, and Orion had cooed back, and for a golden moment, he had been happy.
__
Blitzø was in the meadow, kneeling over a deerskin and cutting meat into strip for making it into jerky. His tail was swishing behind him, and he glanced at the sky, wondering about the heavy clouds.
It would rain soon, and then he would have to go inside to cut the meat or risk mold. He glanced at Orion, laying on his belly on the skin and kicking his little legs behind him, his own tail dancing in the air, looking around with interest.
Blitzø smiled, in spite of the knot in his belly. Stolas had left, promising to come back with probably far too much stuff for Orion. They had not talked much in the morning. Not of important things.
Like “what are you going to do about your daughter? Moxxie and Millie? Fizz?”
Blitzø’s hands trembled, and the knife slipped. He swore out loud as he almost sliced off his own thumb, avoiding injuring by a hair breath.
… He didn’t know what to do.
Satan they must hate him even more now.
But Orion had a right to his other father. And one day, a right to join Hell. He was a demon, after all.
“I won’t take that from you, baby bird.” He promised to his son, even as his heart squeezed. The boy turned and cooed, half-imp and half-bird, and Blitzø almost laughed. “… f*ck. I don’t know what to do.”
He felt a drop on his head, and took up Orion with a hand and the meat with the other.
He would have to continue in the cabin. He looked down at his son and swallowed again, kissing him between his horns.
Whatever happened, he would do right by Orion.
__
Stolas jolted awake in the night, sitting up on his bed, his heart thumping in his chest.
… Dream, it had been a dream. He looked wildly around in the half-darkness that was full day to him. His usual room, nothing had changed.
… Had it?
He turned on his side, stumbling for the phone, the covers twisting against his body. He opened the photos, and he sees it, and collapses on the bed, a pile of feathers and relief.
The photo of Blitzø holding Orion is the first one. He made it so. Orion is reaching for him, and Blitzø is grinning, and Stolas couldn’t feel more if he had two heats instead of one.
He curled on himself, cradling the phone in his hands, the light of the screen shining on his eyes as he looks at the photos he had made, scrolling them one after the other. Orion laying on the buckskin, looking up happily. Blitzø curved on the fire, putting some meat to roast. Orion sitting up on Blitzø’s hand, being kept there by the imp’s hands, so strong and sure.
A video then, and he smiled when he notices it. Blitzø of course, feeding Orion. Cooing over the baby who drinks lustily, small hands opening and closing like tiny flowers.
Stolas exhaled, and watched the video again.
He let it go on repeat, end the sounds of Blitzø’s laughter and Orion’s chirping lull him into sweeter dreams.
__
Meeting Mildred and Moxxie is… more difficult. Loona, even more so.
Ten months have passed. Grief had dulled, somehow.
But you see, there is a photo of Blitzø in the office. A big one, like one of his portraits at home. When he thought Blitzø was dead, it had hurt to look at it, every time.
The idea of taking it away hurt more.
And he could see it in the others as well. In the way Mildred and Moxxie looked at the portrait after every mission. In the way Loona didn’t.
He looked down and finished the invoice. He wanted to stand and claim that Blitzø was alive, and it wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t done it on purpose.
He couldn’t. It was Blitzø’s choice, not his.
“Well, work is done for the day. Thank you, as always, Stolas.” Mildred smiled at him. “Want to come dine with us?”
Stolas shook his head. “Ah, no, thank you Mildred, not tonight.”
He had another place to be. His eyes glanced at the phones, and he fluffed in happiness.
“Ah, finally found somebody, uhm? Well it was about time you did.” She smiled, teasing him.
Stolas had a brief moment to marvel at his own, apparent, near total monogamy, before fumbling with the phone. He hadn’t put the photo of Blitzø and Orion as screensaver, right? A glance showed it was Via, and he relaxed.
Orion and Blitzø were the wallpaper.
“Oh, you are so cute. Go on, go find your boyfriend.” She teased, and a shadow passed on her eyes, and Stolas knew his name, and clenched his beak not to speak.
“Ah, yes. Thank you, Mildred, I shall.” He babbled instead, jumping up and running out of the door.
He wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret long.
This was only the first day.
__
Blitzø sat on the porch’s step, looking at the sunset tinting the world its nostalgic red, glorying in the colors of the trees. Orion was blinking, happily, just awake.
“You know maybe… I could write letter.” Blitzø said, out loud, and Orion cooed, as if in agreement.
They stood in silence under the darkening sky, watching the stars come up, but if Blitzø looked at them, and saw in every constellation a certain owl’s face, Orion looked at the dark green woods.
And purred.
