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Blitzø let out a hoot of contentment as he filled the kitchen sink with hot water and dish soap. Dinner with Via had been flawless for once. He was sure that he'd grown better at pretending to act and talk like Stolas, cutting down on the f-bombs and peppering his speech with "oh dear"s and other fancy-ass rich people lingo. Plus, Via had raved about the steak and veggie stir-fry he'd made. Well, she'd briefly glanced up from the manga she was reading to say, "This is good, Dad." He figured that was as close to a rave as a goth teenager could give. Then she'd eaten three of his homemade chocolate chip cookies for dessert.
He flipped on the radio and began to scrub a particularly stubborn patch of the wok when one of his favorite songs came on. "Oh. Fuck, yeah!" With soapy fingers that were both longer and more delicate than Blitzø was accustomed to, he reached over to crank up the volume.
Without a second thought, he began to sing. "You were the spicy little demon with the bleach-blond hair!" He was absolutely shocked at the sound coming out of his beak. Blitzø was getting somewhat used to speaking with Stolas's voice, but he'd never tried to sing before. Holy shit.
Blitzø considered himself to have decent enough vocals--Loona might disagree--but it was nothing compared to the ethereal beauty of Stolas singing. He had heard Stolas sing on a handful of occasions now. He tried not to let his memory dwell too much on the first time he'd heard it, because that train of thought would lead to more self-flagellation than he was in the mood for. But he had to admit that even that took his breath away. And the times he'd heard it since, Stolas humming or singing a brief snippet of something here or there, had always left him a little awestruck.
He wondered if this was how Stolas felt singing. Powerful, beautiful… on key. He continued to belt along, leaning heavily into his newly discovered vocal chops. "Fucked all of my friends and blew up my car!"
Damn, this shit was better than the original. He bopped his head as he dried off the wok and grabbed a dripping spatula to use as a makeshift microphone.
"Now I'm a wet, wild stallion and I'm running free!" Blitzo dropped the spatula in favor of some air guitar, gyrating his hips and twirled to the music. He was graceful as fuck in this body, and nailing that upper register in a way he'd never been able to manage before.
As the song built up to its epic crescendo, Blitzø had never been more in the zone with singing along to something before. "Cut off my dick when you shattеred my heart, but It grew back twicе as long… MUSTANG DONG!"
He spun around and found Via standing stone-still in the kitchen entryway, her beak agape. The expression of mingled shock and horror did not leave her face as she crept over to the tray of cookies, took two more, and backed out the way she came. "I do not want to know," she muttered as she retreated.
Well, shit. The evening had become slightly less flawless. Still, Blitzø had no regrets. He dried off his hands, grabbed his cell and called Stolas.
"Hello, darling," his own voice answered on the other end, and that would never not be jarring. "Is everything alright?"
"Once all this is over, we gotta get you in a band, Stols. These pipes are gold. Rock star quality." Blitzø couldn't help smiling into the phone.
"Do you think so?" There was uncertainty in Stolas's--well, his--voice, but Blitzø could tell he was pleased by the compliment. "How does one get into a band, anyway? Is this what you've called about?"
"Well, not exactly." Blitzø ran his fingers through feathered hair.. "So… have you ever heard of the band Wrath Club?"
"No, I can't say I'm familiar with their oeuvre."
"Well, they have this one song, and I'm gonna need to teach it to you before we switch back. Your daughter just walked in on me singing it, and the way I was going to town, she probably thinks it's your favorite now."
Stolas let out an audible sigh of relief. "Ah, well, that seems harmless enough. What is the song called? Perhaps I can seek it out when I have a moment."
"Mustang Dong!" Blitzø offered enthusiastically.
After a beat of silence, Stolas sputtered, choked, and then giggled. "That sounds… charming. I'll make a point to learn it."
"You won't be sorry!" Blitzø promised. "Anyway, how was the rest of your evening?"
"Not bad. I did find the most curious thing under your sink! There is a plastic bag filled with nothing but other plastic bags. I made a mental note to ask you about it."
Blitzø grinned and slid into one of the kitchen chairs, propping up his talons on the table. There was something inexplicably adorable about hearing the details of Stolas navigating through his world. As anxious as he was for the two of them to switch back, he'd almost miss this. "All right, birdie. I'll explain the bag o' bags to you if you tell me what the fuck an oeuvre is."