Work Text:
Stolita sighed in his search, his red eyes burning through the dark bunks. “Where is that bloody trapdoor?” The tall owl swayed with the ship’s gentle tilt, finally too accustomed to the ocean’s trickery to fall to its same slippery tricks. Holding onto the beams, which the swinging crew suspended themselves off of, always helped with balancing.
The runaway prince-turned-pirate-captive’s stomach, however, struggled to adapt with him. Many of his cursed sleeps ended without warning, and tonight would’ve been no different. Desperate to ensure the contents of his insides remained there, Stolita had left his private bunk and struggled throughout the living quarters. “I swear: this damn door always seems to MOVE ON ME! Where is it?!”
Wobbling through the seemingly endless array of smelly, sleepy pirates in their stinkier hammocks, the fear of stepping on a disgruntled criminal's hanging foot always prickled Stolita terribly. Thus, it made Stolita consistently alter the escape routes. Alas, this also meant that no one path to the deck above stayed the same.
“It’s just my luck I’m chained to the end of this ship with Rykard. Walking all this way all the ti-”
KRK!
“Yeow!”
Stolita winced at the soft crack and the yelp of the gruff pirate springing up to yank his foot up. “Oo! Sorry, Gerald…!”
“Damn it, Stolita..!”
Stolita whimpered, tip-toeing when the grumpy pirate simply tilted his feathered hat back over. Stolita envied the grace and promptness that Gerald fell asleep, this time with his foot resting on his crewmate's head instead of the floor. “Some fresh air oughta do the trick; may even just sleep out there instead. Just… need to make it there alive now.”
Unlike most nights, this time was uneventful. A boon for Stolita and his queasiness, as prowling his way through the sleeping quarters helped not. The familiar first step interrupted his step, and he murmured in relief, “Finally.”
The raging seastorm that allowed escape from Mammon’s scouts calmed enough to anchor in this reef, but the weather must’ve truly shifted for such light to seep through the hatch’s cracks.
The journey was short now, but coming down the first time felt like an eternity. Reaching for the latch, his stomach lurched as a stronger-than-expected wave budged the ship. His odd sense of nostalgia went with the nausea and was replaced by the infuriation he showcased by flinging the trapdoor open.
And then awestruck eyes basked in the heavens’ glory. “Wow..!”
Another harsh wave struck the ship’s side, yes. But Stolita, enamoured by the heavenly visage above, acknowledged only one aspect of its salty spray. The small droplets became alive, though brief as a flickering flame; sketched eternally into his heart as the distant stars they reflected and warped and melted together. They fell, those translucent warbles in the night sky, but their gravity shifted the distorted beauty to reveal the grand sights behind them.
For ages before, Stolita was landlocked in Wrath’s loathsome country homesteads with only his books revealing a world he would never witness. Lust’s crystal waters were renowned, with the hundreds of artistic renditions in those drab pages sweeping his imagination away. The subtle black and white of inked stars tickled his childish heart in so many ways.
“But they’re all failures. Each one of them. Not… a single one… could match this… ”
The deep swirls of purple nubulae deep within the heavens intertwined with the dust of comets, yellow and white streams now a fanciful dance of cosmic delight. The flickering array of stars, distant and far, twinkled; a burning symphony of mighty colour from the most calming blue bulbs to the raging red orbs of supernovas reaching Stolita’s awestruck eyes. Hypnotized by their glorious allure, he scarcely reacted as his hips reached the starboard railing, only pausing to glance across the unending horizon. It's infinite distance committed to mirroring the emboldened night above. It doubled its unending, raw power and affect in Stolita’s yearning heart, and he gasped. The waves lapped softly at the hull, and since the accidental kidnapping, the gentle water finally reflected the magic that the hearty sailors refused to stop fantasizing about.
From the sweeping vistas of Wrathian golden wheat to the astoundingly decadent palaces of ancient Goetian hierarchies whose riches stood the test of time, Stolita had seen them all. And now, he was certain that none of those would ever again live up to the sheer magic of this scene. Not one more thing could’ve been possibly added to the grand cosmic canvas above him. It was complete. It was fully furnished down to the last detail.
“It’s completely and utterly… beautiful…”
“Hmmmmmmm, I dunno. I feel like a mirror show would still be better.”
“Ah!” Stolita’s head whipped to his left, flustered beyond belief. Though to his surprise, the voice’s origin had been vacant.
What in the world?!
“Down here, birdy,” the succulent voice materialized directly behind him. Its owner’s tone dripped with his trademark jest as he teased Stolita’s loud, “EEP!” with a deep chuckle. “There we are!”
And, of course, HE would be out here . “Blitzian,” Stolita scoffed, frowning at the radiant smirk the imp wouldn’t erase. “What are you doing out here?!”
He took such a small step forward, yet Stolita couldn’t help but slightly jump. “Would you believe me if I said I was enjoying the view?”
“Hmph. Depends on what that is to you.”
“Eeeeeh, take a guess, Stols. What’s got you out here?”
“Rykard’s babbling got just a little too insufferable today. Even compared to the other nights.”
“You’re welcome for him, by the way. I knew you’d be able to handle him.”
Stolita scoffed again, but finally let his feathers settle back down on his neck. And just when I was enjoying myself . Stolita rolled his eyes and leaned back on the railing, forearms crossed and eyes ablaze with returning wonder. Doesn’t matter. I can just as easily ignore him as I can enjoy this! It’ll be easy! He’ll–
Stolita’s flexible neck spun just far enough, hoping to catch the rowdy right-hand-man copping a peek he always thought he hid well, only to find that Blitzian had repeated the disappearing act. Where the hell did he go? “Tsk!?”
“Mind if I join you?” Blitzian said, already sitting close by, playfully swinging those defined legs of his. And never, ever wiping that infuriating smile off his face.
Stuttering, Stolita finally managed to rattle out a skeptical, “Are you sure you can join me ?” Blitzian huffed, eyes narrowing inquisitively. “Now wouldn’t I be able to do that? And why wouldn’t I, pretty bird?”
Stolita returned the same piercing gaze, hoping to hide the jolt reaction of his annoying tail. “Tch. I suppose the company wouldn’t be amiss.” And certainly not his– Oh, dear goodness, Stolita. We talked about this!
Blitzian was as intriguing as he was absolutely infuriating to the poor owl and his hormones. On the one hand: First Mate of the Going Impish, rusty pirate ship and my own personal prison. Son of the most wretched man I’ve met– aside from my father– and the bastard who personally decided to put me as the bunkmate to the positively unhinged mystery foreigner who babbles endlessly in his sleep. And he makes me sweep the deck at DAY, and fucking BOTHERS ME at night to do… gods know what it’ll be. And yet… Gods…
There has never been another man as rapturous as he is . Stolita resisted biting his lip when he took in the midnight man.
The red and white imp was an enigma of beauty, primal violence, dashing charisma, defined and yet unrefined raw sexiness. Lust’s ocean breeze was cooler than usual, for the scandalous Blitzian opted to wear an actual jerkin for once… of course, untied. His rippling muscles or chiselled body– however you wanted to call that absolute marvel – were still wholly exposed. Somehow, the black, tight-fitting, sleeveless jacket somehow made his arms bulge just that bit more, and to say it was the repressed owl’s temptation of unreal proportions was the new century’s understatement. His cracked, toothy smile, dashing bandana and equally mesmerizing golden-crimson eyes always broke through Stolita’s brittle composure, and it had sadly been that way since the day he was caught red-handed stowing away on their ship.
And the pants–GODS, the PANTS! What sort of self-respecting man would wear something that… COMPRESSED? Stolita’s sparse few visits to the red light districts never amounted to anything more than alleyway rendezvous. And even then, not one of the sex workers he timidly sought had ever worn such tight, black leggings that left scarcely anything to the imagination. But as riveting and shocking as the imp’s unbelievable masculine appeal was, the most paradoxical thing about Blitzian… was his passion.
That turbulent, consistent, unsteady, unyielding passion.. ! Stolita had seen it all over the last month, and how many other weeks had flown by amid utter chaos following them. The brutality dealt to his foes was unbelievable; he endlessly gave the most rowdy and crude affection to his allies and dearest ones. And my very own treatment, odd as it’s been. From tormenting me to all but risking his life for me. Of course, half the situations he’s had to do that were of his own doing, but I digress. And now, here he is again…
Blitzian’s gaze turned playful to curious, blinking in succession in that strangely amusing way, tilting his head so cutely.
Just… letting himself be here. No authority. Nothing. He’s just…
“Damn, Stolly,” Blitzian said interrupting his thoughts, “do you ever fucking think hard.”
Stolita’s flush returned, and he waved away the train of thought, all but making him a babbling fool. “Ah, p-pardon me.” So annoying.. ! “I was just stuck wondering what you could possibly want with me now?”
Blitzian frowned, coming to sit perfectly on the small railing, slouched forward on one knee in–
was that offended?
– curiosity. “Now, what the hell does that mean, Stolita?”
Ever punctual, he is.
“Well,” Stolita began with a sharp hiss, scooching away. “What with your father’s plans and all, fraternizing with the hostages must surely present an issue even for pirates?”
“I can’t fucking decide who I want to talk to?” He inched forward. “You wanna tell the First Mate who he can or can’t talk to now?” He wiggled his fingers in fake intimidation. Stolita simply brushed them away when Blitzian playfully huffed and raised his eyebrows. “It’s just that..!”
“Stolita, for fuck’s sake. You’re barely a hostage to us now, c’mon. I think Mildred would genuinely castrate me if we kept acting like you were. Not after all that shit we pulled at the mill.” He smirked, nonchalantly reaching over to give his back a sharp slap. “Congrats, buddy. You’re in this shit just as much as we are by this point.”
Oh! Oh..! “I… didn’t know that’s how you felt, Blitzian! I-”
Blitzian coughed into his hand, being the first to look away. “We just gotta make sure we get you to where Pops told us, is all.”
Oh. Oh . Stolita visibly deflated, hunching over in distaste. “Urgh, don’t remind me.”
An awkward moment descended on them, and Stolita felt the night’s magic take a blow. The stars shone dully.
“Oh, c’mon, Stols,” Blitzian was fast to act. “We’ve still… got a ways to… go?”
Stolita rolled his eyes and huffed. “Is that supposed to reassure me, Blitzian? That I’ve still got time to plan my DASHING ESCAPE?”
“Well,” he awkwardly scratched his exposed scalp, “I mean, after the shit you pulled earlier, I’m not even sure now we COULD catch you. If you really put your mind to it.” Stolita’s side eye looked askance, but froze when he saw his expression.
Is that…?
“It was fucking impressive, Stolita.”
Admiration..? From HIM?
Stolita hid his surprise behind his scoff, leaning in to waggle his own fingers at the pirate with a cheeky, “Really now? Afraid I’m gonna slip through your fingers, Blitzian?” His playful bite made Blitzian groan with the most satisfying, faint blush. “Well, that would be a first, wouldn’t it?”
“Aaaaah, shuddup, Stols.”
Stolita hooted in amused success, salvaging the conversation’s end, returning to silently observing the stars.
Their pseudo-ally or tormenter, as Stolita liked to call her– the former Gluttonous Queen, Beelzebub herself, must’ve again forgotten their anchors. The waves frustratingly rocked their nearby ships’ masts directly in front of the portion of space Stolita lost himself in. “Ah, for fuck- Urgh!”
“Fucking hell,” Blitzian chuckled, “Of course, the asshole would do that again. Shame.”
“Oh, yeah? And why would that be, Blitzian? You’re fond of Cassiopeia as well?” Stolita bristled. He turned, and Blitzian finally caught him off guard. “Yeah. Of course, I am.”
Oh, you cheeky, little liar. But Stolita held nothing against him as he paid attention. A deep twinkle leapt across the beautiful vistas on his face, and the subtle smirk was his affection’s sharp punctuation. Stolita stammered, rubbing back down the erect feathers on his neck. “Oh, but you are a confusing one, captain.”
Blitzian inched closer to Stolita, his tail curling when the owl finally stopped backing away. “I’m pretty straightforward, actually. When you get to know me.”
“Imagine the poor soul who would go and do that.” Stolita felt his captain’s gravity too subtle, too powerful to resist.
Blitzian’s amusement was only a soft breath, and Stolita cherished stealing that from him. “I can be pretty tempting, ya know.”
Do I ever know that . But Stolita kept that locked away, afraid of emboldening Blitzian’s overwhelming ego. So the owl only softly hummed. Failing to resist his weight, carrying him closer and closer.
And then, there they were.
Only a finger’s distance from their own clasping each other. The sea’s luminous radiance soaking their faces with a profound, divine, yet ghastly light. Not one detail was hidden from the other, only highlighted. Neither found one flaw, and what could be considered only made the two more real. Both froze, mindless yet nowhere else. Neither knew whether it was simply to bask in the multi-colored delights dancing across their faces, or the strange, growing solace pulling them closer.
Stolita’s opened and closed his mouth, the softest blush growing with Blitzian’s smile. “Cat got your tongue, birdy?”
The former prince shook his head, but couldn’t back it up like he usually could, unable to resist or respond to the teasing. Oh, you are a true class act, Stolita! “It’s just that…”
Blitzian huffed and, with the most indistinctible gulp, crossed the barrier. “Can I… say something, Stolita?” Stolita did not jump when he felt the imp’s calloused, thick fingers graze his. He merely found himself swept away in that micro instant of sensation, suddenly unable to look away from the abject appreciation bubbling up in the pirate’s eyes. I’ve seen this man choke out even the burliest fiend. With just one hand! Stolita gulped down the mystery. When has he gotten this… gentle ?
Stolita barely held back reaching out for Blitzian’s hand when he pulled away to rub his glistening forehead. “O-of course, Blitzian.”
Unable to keep eye contact, Blitzian swung his legs over the edge, staring above the aquatic forest brimming with life. “I… ain’t the best at this confession shit.”
Confession..? “Well, that’s a shock: you don’t like the sound of your own voice for once.” Stolita joined his watch and soft laughter.
“Screw off. Hah… No, I mean: it’s not every day that I even have the chance to… say this shit. Can’t be letting the crew know I CAN go soft. They need me focused, ready for fuckin’ anything. So you’re… my best bet to get this shit off my chest.” He blinked and punched his shoulder ever so softly. “No one would believe you, anyway. You’re just the hostage, after all. They’d think you were just trying to fuckin’ slander me or some shit.”
“Oh! And then, it’s to the plank with me, yes?” Stolita’s unimpressed sarcasm dripped off the boat wth the rest of the water.
Blitzian nodded, crossed his arms, and guaffawed into the night. “Exactly! This dies with you!”
“I’m so glad you feel safe with me, Blitz.”
“Heh heh…” The cheeky chuckle turned dour, and Stolita looked him up and down. He didn’t blink once.
Blitzian found something in the distance to lock onto, and what began was nary a whisper. “But seriously: I… Today was… was…”
Oh, fuck this. Stolita’s hands grasped Blitzian’s. “Was?”
“Scary as hell, Stols,” he turned at the speed Stolita knew he was capable of. “It fucking scared me, man.” Stolita’s hand only gripped tighter. “When Mammon’s ships locked off that the bay, I fuckin’ thought, “This is it.”. There should’ve been no way out of that shit. The map was a scam, dad was fuckin’ nowhere to be seen, it was just a god damn… shit hurricane, man. But my crew, my crew, they just didn’t even stop. They were so fucking certain I was going to get them out, even then. And… I feel like scum because I was just fucking acting, Stols. I had no idea what to do next. It was… fucked.”
Stolita's expression was tense when putting his other hand on top. “That’s a good way to describe that mess.”
But Blitzian didn’t smirk or pull away. He didn’t even blink, intention brimming at the seams as he continued, “And then: you. You and your fucking brain, your-your god damn… Shit, I’m not good at this, hahaha.”
Stolita only smiled wider, unsure where this was going but amazed nonetheless. This really is a first!
“You… fucking… took me so off guard back there, man. I don’t know what the fuck went through your mind to do what you did or how you even were sure, but Gods, it was something fucking else.”
Stolita’s hoot was bashful, shrugging with a blush. “I got bored and learned windmill infrastructure, what can I say?”
“Okay, first of all, you can fuck off with all that,” his taunting, familiar tone made Stolita nearly push him off. “‘I just learned windmill building shit for fun, hur hur hur!’ C’mooooon, Stolita.”
“It’s TRUE!”
“IT’S LAME!”
Stolita threw up his hands, grumbling when unable to resist Blitzian’s hearty guffaw with quiet, reluctant hoots. And then, Blitzian took his hands this time. His smile wrinkled his eyes, and Stolita turned dead quiet in awe. “But it doesn’t change the fact that it fucking saved everyone. Fucking…” Blitzian chuchkled in practiced disbelief. “No idea how unlocking its breaks turned it into a fucking cannon, but you knew, and it’s fucking amazing, Stols. You THREW A WINDMILL!”
“The entire thing was faulty and should’ve been taken down long before we got there.”
Blitzian rolled his eyes, wiggling closer. “We made it out of ‘the entire thing’ JUST because of you. I should’ve said something then, but I was just so fucking dialed in, I couldn’t think of anything else except getting the fuck out of dodge.” Blitzian looked momentarily unsure, but like he could, he covered it immediately and genuinely smiled. Not a fake one, not the arrogant posturing Stolita was used to. “I… Thank you, Stolita. You saved my family back there. I won’t be able to pay that back.”
Oh. Wow.
“I… really mean that, man.”
Oh…
Stolita couldn’t think of anything else to say. His eyes drifted up and down his face, almost like he was a misheard ghost. Whether Blitzian noticed or not was another question. He observed at the dance that their thumbs found themselves in and meekly tittered, “You know… It’s kinda been amazing seeing how you were when we first found your ass.”
Stolita was hypnotized by the same sight. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. You,” he chuckled,” fucking floundering around on the deck, climbing up random shit, falling off of that shit to escape us. Unable to even fucking catch a single REAL fish ALL NIGHT?”
“THAT was a REAL FISH, and I’ll die by that.” His words were empty and unfocused, yet the indignation still made Blitzian laugh.
“Oh, if you tried arguing it to Gerald, you definitely would. But that doesn’t fucking matter now, Stols.” His larger red thumb pinned Stolita’s with ease, making Stolita gape. “Because… what you’ve become NOW is… so much more than I thought you ever could. You’re a fucking windmill throwing badass to everyone here. You somehow got through to fucking RYKARD, which is just a feat in of itself. You got us that map, for fuck’s sake! You’re anything but the same guy now, Stolita. It’s fucking amazing.”
“Gods,” Stolita stammered, puffing up. “And you’ve still a silver tongue.” Is that REALLY it, Stolita?!
Blitzian's look was pensive, and Stolita gulped down the nerves in those sparse seconds of contemplation. “You’ve done all that, and… You’re still here with us.”
A heavy sensation arrived in Stolita’s chest. He looked up, mouth slightly open, and whispered, “Of course. Nowhere else to go.”
Blitzian shook his head, but never wiped the intense look away. “No. No, not you. No, you could’ve left AGES AGO, I’m more sure of that than this fucking map. You’ve proven that time after fucking time, Stolita. Yesterday, Greed; all those times, the opportunities came to you again and again and… here you are.”
Here I am …
There was an indecipherable look in Blitzian’s eyes. Something unknowable, unsure and turbulent. Like, even he was actively trying to decode it as he spoke. Stolita was lost in those golden mirrors, but likewise saw it in his reflection.
Could I have? Has it really been that simple? So… why didn’t I? Octavius must be waiting for me. I-I haven’t stopped thinking about returning to her all this time. If I just saw it in myself, then I-I could’ve. That’s what he’s saying? Have I been selfish when I choose not to see and take those risks? I could’ve made it to her already. And I haven’t. Why is it that I didn’t believe I could? Why does he see that in me when I don’t?
“What’s keeping you here, Stols?” His inquisition was desperate, and yet Stolita knew he felt the same confusing hope.
“Not… what…” Stolita’s next word was swept away in the quiet midnight wind.
Blitzian’s words caught in his throat. Stolita had long since stopped breathing the moment he found himself leaning forward. It wasn’t thought that pulled them together, but a desire that caught them off guard. Something inside the two that wanted to break free, just as the seams on Blitzian’s pants.
Their eyes were lidded, as they found themselves already captured by its thrall. They switched between lip and beak, eyes and eyes, as if the answers were there. Stolita’s heart pounded, nearly screaming in alarm, yet he neither cared for its celebration nor its fear. Blitzian almost looked afraid, and yet in the spare chance he was, Stolita found himself unable to back away when he felt the unholy strength of Blitzian clutching his thin waist. The distance between the two nothing more than a suggestion of space, as all it would take is one twitch to bridge their wants.
The last of Stolita’s logic clawed at the wall between body and brain. Criminal! Killer! Thief and marauder! But Stolita, over the rapid months’ course, ingrained a different truth into his body. The constant peeking, the subtle glances, all revealed a different man inside the beast known as Blitzian Buck-Shot. The sight of him every day burned in memories other than those of a twisted villain. Funny. Kind. Patient. Sassy. Confident. Compassionate. Passionate. Strong. Heroic. Determined .
Or perhaps you’ve hypnotized me with all those things. I wonder what’s going through your own mind, Blitzian? Do you see me as confusing as you are? What am I… to you?
There was only one thing for certain. Their approaches never ceased, and Stolita found his arms behind Blitzian’s thick neck. Intertwined. Connected. His lithe chest crammed against his.
Everything their tongues would be when Blitzian finally whispered, “Oh, fuck it.”