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"Order 39! Spicy wackburger, extra cheese and a honey mustard wackvole wrap, hold the pickle." The baphomet in the grease-stained Wackdonald's uniform blinked her six bleary eyes as she called out the order, setting white paper bags on a scuffed plastic tray. The candle on her head burned low. Blitzø wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but it couldn't be very good.
"Yeeep, that's us!" he announced as he grabbed the tray off the counter and flicked his tail at Stolas' leg. "Grab some extra napkins and some ketchup? The pump ketchup, not the packets. Pump ketchup tastes better."
"I'm sure it's the same ketchup," the tall owl replied.
"Trust me, birdy. It's better." Blitzø carried their meals to the corner table where the rest of their gang sat. Millie and Moxxie practically sprawled on each other's laps next to Barbie, while Fizz and Ozzie took the next booth to leave room, Fizz hanging over the joined seat backs to blow his straw paper at Barbie.
"Hey!" she growled when it hit her on the back of the head. "Watch it, unless you want pepper in your drink!"
Fizz curled his tail around his cup, bringing it to his mouth for a long sip. "Jokes on you, I like it spicy!"
"Mmm-hmm," Ozzie chuckled, turning to rest his arms on the back of the seat.
"Ew, gross!" Moxxie interjected. "Can you not?"
"You're the one with your tail in a permanent knot around your girlfriend," Blitzø pointed out as he slipped into the booth, scooching over so Stolas could sit at the edge where he could stretch out his long-ass legs.
"That's romantic!" Moxxie protested.
“It's kinda sappy,” Barbie commented.
"Don't listen to them, baby," Millie reassured him with a pat to his arm. "I think it's cute."
"I didn't know how much to get." Stolas said contritely as he approached to set six little paper cups of ketchup on the table. "I hope this is okay?"
"That's…yeah, that's fine, birdy," Blitzø replied with a suppressed grin. Now that was fucking cute. He passed the vole wrap to Stolas and opened his burger, dumping two entire cups of ketchup onto the patty and replacing the bun with a squish.
"So what's everyone's before-prom plans?" Barbie asked, leaning over the table to steal a ketchup cup. "Ver is taking me to Melchior's," she added smugly.
"Melchior's!" Moxxie cried, astonished. "That's so expensive! And impossible to get a table."
"Yeah well, dating an up-and-coming teen pop star has perks," Barbie replied around a mouthful of fries.
"Yer datin'?" Millie asked. "No offense, but didn't really peg her as the datin' type."
"Yeah? What would it take for you to peg her?" Blitzø asked slyly. Moxxie choked on his drink and Stolas wheezed out a surprised laugh.
"Blitzø!" Barbie shrieked and lobbed a handful of fries at him.
Blitzø cackled and held up his hands to fend off the potato projectiles.
"Well, I don't know what we're doing," Fizz interjected. "Ozzie said he has a surprise for me, but won't say what."
"You'll just have to wait and see~!" Ozzie sang, tapping Fizz's nose with a finger.
"What about y'all?" Millie asked Blitzø as Barbie settled back down to eat.
Blitzø glanced over to Stolas. They hadn't discussed any plans. After Stolas had accepted his promposal, they had begun spending time together, just casual hang-outs, usually with the group or with just Fizz and Ozzie. But Blitzø wasn't sure if they were dating. Maybe they were just friends going to prom together? That was a thing that happened. And if that was the case, like heaven was Blitzø going to embarrass himself by suggesting anything even remotely date-like.
When the pause became long enough to feel awkward, Millie filled the silence. "Well," she said, picking up her burger. "Moxxie is takin' me to the restaurant where we had our first date. Ain't that romantic?"
Moxxie rubbed the back of his neck, a blush darkening his cheeks. "It's not really anyplace fancy, just a Gluttonese cafe at the border of Pentagram city."
"That's a little far," Ozzie commented. "Sure you'll have enough time to make it to prom?"
"Oh, there will be time!" Moxxie assured him. "I have it aaaalll scheduled out!"
"Down to the minute," Millie added with a fond roll of her eyes.
Silence fell over the table again as the group cast sidelong glances towards Blitzø and Stolas. The owl was picking at his wrap, not looking up.
Finally, Blitzø spoke up. "We haven't really discussed what we're doing," he began with a shrug. "We'll probably find someplace to grab som–"
"I can't go," Stolas blurted out.
Blitzø turned towards him, confused. "You can't go? To…dinner before prom?"
"I can't go to prom at all," the owl clarified, not meeting his eyes.
Blitzø let his burger drop to the ketchup smeared paper. "You…what, you changed your mind? Don't want to go to prom with me?" His tail lashed under the table.
Stolas shook his head, finally looking up. "No! I-I mean yes! Wait, I mean– Well, I just, I-I…" He paused and took a steadying breath. "I do want to go with you. But I can't. My school's prom is on that same night."
"So skip," Fizz said with a shrug. "Ozzie is."
"That's not really an option for me," Stolas replied. "My father wants me there. And he wants me to take the daughter of one of his friends."
"Daughter?" Blitzø asked. "Aren't you…you know…" He flourished a hand. "Gay?"
"Yes, well…" Stolas shrugged. "Not according to my father."
Everyone around the table drew in a hissing breath in sympathy.
"Well, maybe you'll still have a good time?" Ozzie suggested.
Stolas chittered skeptically. "With Stella?"
Ozzie winced. "Or maybe not."
"It doesn't matter who he's going with," Blitzø declared, stabbing a finger into his palm for emphasis. "He's supposed to be having a good time with me that night!" That was the plan, after all. Blitzø didn't like his plans being changed. He'd worked hard to get a date for prom. That was it, nothing possessive about it at all. Not like he felt an itch to wrap his tail around the bird's ankle or anything.
"Well, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do at this point," Stolas muttered. "I really am sorry, Blitzø. I was looking forward to prom with you."
"Yeah." Blitzø stared down at his half-eaten burger. He suddenly wasn't hungry anymore.
"Okay, plan time," Blitzø announced in a stage whisper. It was the next day and the gang was huddled around a table at the back of the school library, supposedly researching for some assignment or paper or something, Blitzø really hadn't been paying attention.
"Plan for what?" Fizz asked warily, setting down his book.
"Plan for rescuing Stolas from his stuffy-ass prom." Blitzø flipped to an empty page in his notebook.
"Is that a good idea?" Moxxie asked. "He seemed pretty adamant he couldn't skip it."
"Listen, Moxx," Blitzø replied, "I jumped off a building for that bird–"
"You fell from the balcony."
"–and I am not going to let some bitch slow dance with him on what was supposed to be our night."
Moxxie let out a long-suffering sigh and neatly placed a bookmark between the pages he had been reading.
"So what's the plan?" Barbie asked, leaning in excitedly. "We dumping a bucket of blood on the whore? 'Cause I could get behind that."
Blitzø pointed at his twin. "Good thinking there, Barbs! I like it; let's put a pin in it and come back to it later." He clapped his hands softly. "The goal is to get Stolas out of there so he can come have fun with us at our party."
"We'll need some sort of distraction, then," Fizz suggested. "Something big enough that the chaperones won't notice Stolas leaving."
Blitzø snapped his fingers. "Okay, how's this. We release a herd of h–"
"Not horses!" Barbie, Millie, and Fizz spoke up in unison.
"Shhhhh!" Moxxie hissed, casting a glance towards the librarian's desk.
"Okay, okay fine." Blitzø raised his hands in defeat. "Not horses. But then what?"
"Ya know…" Millie began with a wicked grin. "They're a mite smaller 'n horses, but I may know where we can get a fresh litter o' hellhogs."
Moxxie groaned. “I am going to have to completely re-schedule our dinner, aren’t I?”
“It’ll be worth it,” Blitzø assured him. “Now, Mills. Tell me more about these hellhogs…”
Stella entered the dance hall in a splendor of white and silver, ruching and drooping bows embellishing her voluminous skirt and glitter in her long, snowy feathers. An exquisite corsage graced her wrist, and she was immediately surrounded by a glut of sycophants praising her every feature.
Stolas entered a step behind her in a black and charcoal tux, unnoticed and unadorned. He almost wished that the suit was tight and uncomfortable, but of course it was of the highest quality and tailor fit.
It was a full fifteen minutes before anyone glanced his way, and even then, nobody approached to talk to him, only nodding a greeting as he passed by, towed in Stella's wake. It took another twenty minutes for her to finish her circuit around the hall, greeting and chatting with half of the demons in the room. She eventually made her way to an advantageous spot on the edge of the dance floor, far enough away from the sound system to not have their ears blown out, but close enough to watch the dancers. And watch they did, one song after another.
After an agonizing eternity, Stolas held out a hand. "Would you care to dance, Stella?" he offered politely.
The swan stared down her beak at his hand as if he were offering her a rotting frog carcass. He slowly lowered it back to his side.
"Why would I want to dance with you?" Stella asked, her voice hovering between disgust and actual confusion.
"Well…Because I am your date?" he replied hesitantly.
She didn't dignify that with an answer.
"Stolas!" A jovial voice drew their attention to a flamboyant red parrot approaching. "And Stella, lovely as always," Vassago continued as he stepped before them. "Are you heading out to the dance floor? This song always makes me want to move!"
"No," Stella replied curtly. Stolas shrugged.
Vassago's grin didn't falter. "Well, then, Stella, would you mind if I steal your date away for one song? I promise I'll return him in good health, if maybe a little breathless. I am told I am a vigorous dancer."
"Oh, Stolas was just about to get me some punch, weren't you?" she shot him a smile, a thin veneer of sweetness over cold iron. She would surely make him pay if he contradicted her.
"Of course, Stella," Stolas replied and with a polite bow to a no-longer-grinning Vassago, he turned towards the refreshments table. As he stepped away, he heard Stella add, "I swear that's all he's good for anyway. If he doesn't trip on his way back." Stolas ground his beak, barely suppressing an irritated chitter.
Vassago was gone by the time he returned with two cups of frothy pink punch –un-spilled, by the way, thank you very much– and instead, Stella was surrounded by a group of ladies giggling at something. Stella turned as he approached, a drink in her hand.
"Stolas, there you are. I was wondering what was taking you so long. I almost thought you had gotten lost!" She snickered at that and her groupies laughed in echo. "I don't need that." She flicked a hand dismissively at the drink he offered and turned back to her conversation.
Stolas sighed but drew himself up as befitted a prince of hell and lifted one cup, pouring its contents down his throat in a single gulp. He winced at the cloying sweet fruitiness of the punch without a hint of bite. Of course it wasn't spiked; who here would think of spiking the punch? Well, Stolas would, but he hadn't so unfortunately, it was only sugary juice.
Nesting the full cup into the empty one, he edged closer, thinking he could at least nod and make humming noises to pretend he was included.
"Oh, Stolas, I forgot!" Stella turned, apparently suddenly remembering his presence. "I have a gift for you!"
"Oh!" Stolas' fingers drifted towards his empty lapel. So she hadn't forgotten proper etiquette after all. "By all means, Stella." He held out a hand and Stella reached into a hidden pocket in the depths of her skirt. The folded papers she pulled out and slapped into his open palm gave him pause, and he frowned down at them stupidly. "What…" he began.
"My paper on the history of medical innovation in Sloth," Stella explained haughtily. "I got bored and it needs to be finished by Monday. And everyone knows how much you love words!" Her friends tittered at the sneering twist in her voice. "So I thought it would be a…fun weekend activity for you! Especially when your father hears how good a time I had at prom tonight," she added in a warning tone.
His father, of course. His father wouldn't be pleased if he upset Stella. He sighed and slipped the papers into the pocket of his trousers. The bunched pages would ruin his silhouette but he frankly didn't care. Satisfied that her work would get done, Stella turned back to her friends, content to pretend Stolas didn't exist.
Stolas glanced at the clock. It was still early; the imps' prom didn't start until later. Perhaps he could slip away, feign sickness, tell Stella he wanted to get started on her blasted paper. Or maybe excuse himself to the restroom and simply not return.
He opened his mouth to say something, anything, when the music quieted suddenly and a voice rang out from the speakers.
"Attention, ladies and gentlemen," Professor Crocell spoke from a low stage at one side of the room. A pedestal beside him held two crowns on opulent cushions and a gaudy scepter. "It is now time to announce this year's prom queen and for her to choose her reigning partner for the evening."
The crowd of young people drifted closer to the stage as he spoke.
"You all have had a chance to cast your votes," he continued, struggling with an envelope in his hands, "And now…we will see…ng–who is the lucky lady, ah-hah!" He pulled a slip of paper triumphantly from the envelope. "And it looks like the queen of this year's prom is…" he squinted at the paper. "Stella, daughter of Sephar!"
Amid bouncing and shrieking flatterers, Stella pressed manicured fingertips to her beak in a show of demureness, then swept up onto the stage, reveling in the cheers. She dipped gracefully to accept her crown, then held out her hand for the royal scepter.
Professor Crocell placed the ornate rod in her hand and picked up the pillow with the second crown. "Queen Stella," he pronounced. "Please designate your reigning partner."
Stella stepped to the edge of the platform, scanning the crowd and tapping the end of the scepter into her other palm. Then, with a glint in her eyes, she stretched the golden rod out, waving it slowly over their heads, until it settled, pointing directly at Stolas.
Him? She had picked Stolas to be her reigning partner? Stolas, who had never been picked for anything? Stolas, who had been ignored or insulted the whole evening so far? He was the one she had chosen for the crown? His breath stuttered in confusion, then caught in elation. It suddenly didn't matter that he was an actual prince and had a real crown at home. That was something he had been born into, but this was something he had been selected for. Perhaps Stella hadn't been as bad as she had seemed. She was certainly charismatic. Perhaps she simply didn't know how to talk to Stolas, but had enjoyed herself anyway. Perhaps–
A harsh laugh broke his thoughts and halted his movement as he had started for the stage.
"You really thought I would choose you, Stolas? How pathetic! Who would ever choose you to be their king?" Stella screeched in laughter, and the gathered students joined in. "Of course not," Stella gasped out. "I choose Shax!"
The crowd applauded and the stork beamed at Stella, all but leaping onto stage to receive the crown from her hand. It was as Stella laid the scepter on the pillow and was reaching for the crown that it happened.
It was the screaming Stolas heard first. Stella and Shax jerked their heads up, scanning over the crowd. Professor Crocell snapped his fingers, gesturing to someone at the back of the room. The crowd surged and the screams grew. Someone ran into Stolas' back and nearly sent him to the floor. That was when he heard the squeals. Pigs? What were pigs doing here?
The young demons began to scatter, screaming and shrieking. Stella abandoned the stage, shrieking for help. Stolas tried to move with the flow but nobody seemed to know where they were going. He managed to break free of the press into an empty section of the dance floor and finally saw what was going on. Hellhogs. Young hellhogs, nearly a dozen of them, with gleaming sharp tusks and hooves, charging with a mixture of rage and delight at anyone nearby.
Chaos reigned. All around him, young goetia and other highborn demons screamed, ran, fell, and crawled. Skirts lifted and swirled, dance shoes slipped and scrabbled for purchase. The refreshments table tipped over with a crash, punch gushing over the floor.
"Suck it, richies!" a familiar voice rang out over the din.
"Yeah, suck it! Hahaha!" The second voice was even more familiar.
Stolas whipped his head around to see the Buckzo twins standing on the stage with matching elated grins. Barbie wore a short, tight black strapless dress shimmering with a wealth of sequins, and shiny black heels that laced all the way up to her knees. Beside her, Blitzø stood resplendent in a pale blue ball gown with full skirt and petticoats, embroidered strapless bodice, and a wig of blonde curls framing his face. They both held something small in each hand, wisps of smoke leaking from between their fingers, but it quickly became evident what they were when the twins tossed them into the crowd and colored smoke began billowing, obscuring Stolas' vision and adding still more chaos. Teachers dashed through the mess towards the stage but the imps disappeared into the crowd, middle fingers held high.
Stolas squinted through the roiling smoke, utterly failing to catch a glimpse of those strong, striped horns, although he did spot Stella screaming on the floor while her arrogant brother used the scepter to beat at a hellhog that was happily shredding her voluminous skirt with its tusks. Served her right.
A sudden tug on his coattails made Stolas stumble.
"Stolas!"
He turned at the urgent cry. There was Millie pulling at him, with Moxxie by her side, wringing his hands nervously.
"We're bustin' ya outta here!" Millie continued to pull. "Come on, while they're distracted!"
"Oh! I– all right!" Stolas followed them to the emergency exit, swiveling his head around to see if they were being spotted. Moxxie brought up the rear, muttering all the while. "Oh crumbs, oh crumbs, this is going to get us into so much trouble!"
Millie had to leap to pull the crash bar on the door, but she heaved it open without much trouble. An ear-splitting alarm cut through the air, and lights flashed through the hall. Millie pushed the both of them through into the warm night air. Moments later, two silhouettes followed.
"Fuck yeah!" Blitzø cried as they ran away from the building. He gathered up his skirts with both hands, the prom king crown held aloft by his tail. "Did you see that, Stols? That's how you crash a fucking party!"
"It certainly…certainly was memorable!" Stolas' heart was racing as fast as their feet.
They reached the van a block away and Millie heaved open the side door while Blitzø hopped in the driver's seat. As Stolas climbed in, he noticed someone missing.
"Where is Fizzarolli?" He asked. "We didn't leave him behind, did we?"
Blitzø had slipped the crown over one horn and was checking his reflection in the rear-view mirror. He adjusted the mirror to smile back at Stolas through it. "Nah, he's off having his surprise dinner or whatever. He thinks we're doing this later. He'll be pissed we went without him, but I figured it's better for Ozzie if he wasn't here."
"Oh but it's all right for you to show your face?" Stolas asked.
The dashing imp faltered. "Well we're not…I mean, not like they are– We haven't really–"
Barbie slid into the passenger side and slammed the door as Moxxie closed up the back. "Can we go?” he whined, clicking on his seat belt. “I do not want to be caught!"
"Yeah, let's go!" Blitzø revved the engine to life and they peeled away.
They didn't end up going to the imps' prom. Well, the rest of the gang did, but after the excitement, Blitzø didn't really feel like doing the whole song and dance of prom anymore. So he'd dropped them off and said he and Stolas were going to go get milkshakes. Now they were parked on a hill overlooking Imp City, sitting on the hood of the van and sipping the biggest shakes Wackdonalds could supersize.
"Thank you for saving me from that dreadful prom," Stolas spoke into the night.
Blitzø shrugged. "Yeah, well, what else was I gonna do? Everyone else had dates. I wasn't going to be the…" He paused to count. "Sixth wheel."
"Well, I appreciate it all the same. Sitting here with you drinking milkshakes is much more pleasant than– Well, than what I was enduring."
A comfortable hush fell, wide plastic straws squeaking in the lids of their cups. Blitzø shifted, raising a knee and adjusting the skirt of his dress.
"You look beautiful, Blitzø."
Blitzø glanced up from the dress to see Stolas looking at him with a warm smile. He felt his own face heat. "Uh…thanks. You look good too."
"I wish I had been allowed to wear a dress." The owl smoothed a hand over the now-rumpled silk of his pants, frowning at something crinkling in the pocket.
"Bet you'd look sexy as hell in a dress," Blitzø commented. "Here." He reached up and pulled the crown off his horn. "It's not a dress, but it's fancy as fuck, and it'd look better on you. Besides, you deserve it." Both sets of Stolas' eyes widened as Blitzø held the crown out. He reached to take it, but Blitzø hopped up to his feet and placed it right on his head feathers that looked cemented together with pomade or something. "There ya go. I pronounce you prom king or whatever." As he sat back down, he was surprised to see tears gathering at the corners of those deep red eyes.
"You're…choosing me as prom king?" Stolas whispered in astonishment.
Blitzø took a sip of his chocolate shake. "Uh, yeah, I guess? Nobody else here and we agreed that you look better in the crown than I do." Stolas hadn't agreed, but who was counting?
"Thank you, Blitzø." Stolas spoke with a touched sincerity and gee whiz, why was the guy getting so choked up over a stupid crown? It's not like it was a real gift or anythi– Shit.
"Dammit, I forgot!" he exclaimed and hopped off the van.
"Blitzø? What did you forget?" Stolas leaned forward curiously as Blitzø yanked open the van door and began rummaging through the junk on the floor. He really needed to clean this thing. Maybe he could get Moxxie to do it. Ah, there it was!
"Hah!" he cried triumphantly, climbing back up onto the van, his tail wrapped around a small cardboard box. "Now, I know it's not really anything fancy, but, you know…I asked you to prom and I wanted to do it right. So…" He opened the box and pulled out a small purple corsage. "I guess…like, here? Happy prom? What do you say when you do this?" He frowned down at the pin in the tiny bunch of flowers. "Do I gotta put it on you? Cause, like…I can try, but I don't really know–"
"It's splendid, Blitzø," Stolas interrupted as he gently took the corsage from his hands. "You are doing it wonderfully. Thank you, truly." He easily pinned it to his jacket, the small blossoms looking out-of-place against his fancy outfit, but he touched the petals gently, as if they were priceless. "And it's purple lilac!"
Blitzø rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. I've never gotten one of these things before but I know you like plants and shit so…I just went to a flower shop, told the guy the sitch, and he gave me this."
"Well it was a very appropriate choice." Stolas smiled at him. "Thank you, Blitzø."
Blitzø nudged his arm. "You already said that."
"I mean for more than the corsage," the bird replied, catching Blitzø's hand in his own. "I mean for the whole night. For asking me to prom in the first place. For being so… so thoughtful and kind in your own way. For letting me into your circle of friends."
Stolas leaned closer until Blitzø could feel his breath at the base of his horns. Blitzø' heart pounded in his chest.
"I was hoping I could give you something in return?" Stolas asked.
"Uh…yeah. What?" Blitzø asked, his gaze captured by those oceans of glowing red. Stolas didn't answer and Blitzø opened his mouth to ask again, but he was falling into that gaze and then that beak was on his mouth, stealing his breath away, and it was all he could think of. The touch was light and quick, and when it retreated, Blitzø chased with a whimper, catching his mouth again before they even completely parted. They kissed harder this time, with tongues meeting and feathers in his fingers. The crown fell to the hood of the van with a dull clink but Blitzø was standing now, hands cupping that white, heart-shaped face, and tilting it up to slot his mouth against his beak. Stolas' long fingers were tripping up his back over the lacing of the dress, stroking the bare skin on his shoulders. When he finally pulled away, Blitzø stared breathlessly down at the owl.
"Happy prom," was all he could think to say before he was pulled into another kiss, and another, and another. He ended up home late that night, but he didn't care. It had been worth it.