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“Does this ever bother you?”
Blitzø looked back from where he had a knee to the guy’s back and an improvised baton (broken off length of pipe) pressed against his neck to keep him pinned down. “Getting interrupted by your stalkers? Yes? Not high on my list.”
“No, I mean…” Fizz perched on the edge of an abandoned store window, knees drawn up together and resting his hands there, fingers interlocked and thumbs fidgeting against each other. “Having to protect me. Getting your hands dirty.”
“I mean hands are easy. It’s the shirts I-“ Blitzø rocked as the guy beneath him made another bid for escape. “Nooope not today, fucko.”
Fizz leaned back against the dusty glass, no longer caring if it would leave marks on his clothes. “You shouldn’t have to.”
“You’re welcome to open a tab on Ozzie’s dime any time. Wouldn’t mind getting some shirts from wherever your big chicken shops.”
“He has a tailor.”
“Even better.”
Fizz huffed out a sigh, attention rolling over to Blitz and his struggling captive. He was the only hellborn from the group and Fizz had gotten squeamish about letting Blitzø just shoot him like he had the sinners.
“That’s not what I meant though.”
“Fizz, I'm not gonna charge you for body guarding you on our own dates. That’s fucked. I've had enough transactional shit in my dating life already, I don't need it from you.”
Fizz brought his hands up to his face, groaning as he dragged them down his cheeks. “That’s not what I mean either!”
“Then spit it out, Fizz!”
“Can you let him go?” Fizz finally let his voice raise, gesturing down at the guy. “It’s getting distracting.”
Blitzø shoved the slime ball further into the ground. “That's your cue fucker. Next time I see you, he won't be able to save you. Now, say thank you.”
The broken gurgle was likely just the sound of a crushed windpipe, but Blitzø was feeling generous. “Good enough. Now, fuck off.”
Fizz relaxed as they watched the back side of him run down the block and disappear behind a corner.
When Blitzø pushed up with a groan and walked over to offer a hand to help him stand, Fizz made a little noise of disgust at the blood and viscera still covering it. Which… fair enough. Instead he wiped it on the denim of his thighs and joined Fizz on the window sill, knees splayed out, face tipped back to catch the warmth of the pentagram sun. “What’s this really about?”
It took a while for Fizz to work himself up to saying it. “I feel bad that you being with me forces you to hurt people.”
Blitzø frowned, starting to look actually annoyed with him. “I get you’re rich. But I don’t want your-“
“I’m not talking about money! I mean…” He gestured at the bodies still cooling on the concrete. “Don’t you feel bad?”
“Fuck those guys, Fizz! They were going to hurt you!”
“I don’t mean them. I mean you.”
There was a hint of betrayal in that frown. “What, you want me to feel guilty? Fizz, I am an A-Ssas-Sin.”
“But you didn’t have to be!”
“Fizz, what the fuck-?”
“If I hadn’t been there, you wouldn’t have to be.” Fizz held both hands in front of him, staring intently, as if framing his argument.
They froze, gears turning as Blitzø integrated the new information.
“Nah,” he said, still deflating. “That’s making a lot of assumptions about-“
Fizz continued with his gestures, laying it all out. “It would have been you and Barb headlining. You were both really fucking good. It would have worked. Some other asshole would be on pickpocket duty and getting into fights. You wouldn’t have to do…” he seemed at a loss, then threw out a hand to the street, “This!”
Blitzø looked from the bodies, to Fizz and back again.
He smiled.
“Aw, Fizz… Is that what this is about?”
The relief in his face seemed to annoy Fizz that much more. “I’m being serious!”
“So am I! I’ve been to therapy, Fizz. If you wanted to catch me crying about this shit you’re like a decade too late.”
“But it's not fair-!”
“Nothing is fair!” He laughed. “We live in Hell! You don’t have legs!”
“I have legs,” Fizz pouted, crossing his arms and kicking at the dirt. “I have nice legs.”
Blitzø looked for a long moment, almost arguing the point before backing away from that particular ledge. “Yeah, yeah. The best money can buy.”
“Not even,” Fizz sniffed, lifting his nose haughtily. “These puppies aren’t for sale.”
“What if someone offered you a million?” Fizz didn’t dignify that with a response, so he continued. “Just for one of them?”
“Fuck that.”
“At a charity auction?”
Fizz rolled his eyes.
“For an elderly quieve shelter?”
“Are you done deflecting yet?”
Blitzø smiled, straightening his legs out and crossing one ankle over the other. “You ever get tired of the orgies?”
“Yeah.”
Blitzø’s brows shot up. “Ah shit. Then that kinda fucks up my explanation.” His horns clinked against the glass of the window as he turned to look at Fizz more closely. “Are you good? Does Ozzie… know that?”
Fizz scoffed. “I do a cleanse every couple months so I don’t burn out.” He waved the question away with one of those priceless hands oh so nonchalantly.
“A… sex cleanse? What does that even mean?”
Fizz’s frustration boiled over all at once, little fists landing on his knees as his face whipped back around to Blitzø. “What the fuck do you think it means!?”
Blitzø just watched, face turning slightly away as his eyes stayed locked on. “What are we talking…? Like… a few days?”
Fizz’s annoyed expression didn’t budge an inch.
“Weeks?” Blitzø asked, increasingly dubious.
“What the fuck was your point, Blitzø?”
Blitzø smiled, a knowing look in his eye as he leaned in and pressed a kiss against that pissed off beak. There was a warning growl in his jester’s throat, but the full on hiss didn’t happen until he pulled away.
“The thing about me, Fizz?” He stood, turning to rest a hand against the glass, boxing Fizz in a little as he loomed. His posture was easy and relaxed despite the warning coil of Fizz’s tail and the thin worn patience in his expression. He leaned in closer, voice going smooth and low. “I love this shit.”
Fizz’s eyes widened, torso pressing back ever so slightly back into the glass. But then he glared, leaning in close again. “No way.” He bared his teeth. “You’re lying to make me feel better.”
“You wish, chuckles.” Blitzø caught his chin with two fingers, tipping him up until he could see the muscles in that pretty throat stretched out all long for him. He crowded closer, voice getting quieter against the backdrop of Fizz’s growl. “Turns out I’m just one of those sickos that gets real fuckin hard for the crunch of bone and the smell of guts.”
“Probably just the way you were raised.”
“Guess Daddy did something right.”
When Fizz’s jaw dropped, Blitzø took the opportunity to run a claw up along his trachea before gently closing it for him.
“That’s really fucked up, Blitzø.”
He just tutted. “What are you gonna do? Get wet about it?”
“Is that Blitzø!?”
They held the stare just a moment longer listening to the excited chatter from the other end of the block.
“Looks like these ones are mine.” Blitzø smiled ruefully, almost bashful as he stepped back, giving Fizz room.
“So this is how it feels?” he smiled, back resting against the glass again as he let out a slow breath.
“You want me to get rid of them?”
“Nah.” Fizz turned to eye them. It was a small group of friends. They might even still be teenagers. “Your public awaits, your highness.”
“Don’t do me like that.” Blitzø adjusted the fall of his jacket. “You’ll ruin my class hero cred.”
“Hey, Mr. Buckzo! Did you just waste those guys?”
Fizz smiled fondly at Blitzø’s high-held tail as he went to meet them.
“Depends who’s askin.”
“Ha ha! Sick!” “Can we get a selfie with you?”
“You got 50 bucks?”
Maybe he was overthinking things.
“Holy shit! Is that Fizzarolli!?”
“Nah, just a bot.”
Fizz raised a middle finger and lowered the sunglasses back over his face.