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Blitzø kicked open the door and lugged in his haul with the exhausted grin of a pirate after a successful raid.
“Shoulda come with me to the store, Stols. They were giving out free samples. I ate so much gorgonzola.” He lifted everything onto the kitchen counter with a big groan. “Then the cheese counter bitch got all uppity about her fucking gouda, and you know what I said? Stolas? You know what I said? I said, yeah, well, I think it’d be GOUDA if you took a long walk off a short— hey, bird brain, you listening?”
An aggrieved sigh was all he got in response. Abandoning his bags of groceries and cheese counter contraband, Blitzø came around the couch to take in the pathetic sight that awaited him there.
“So, uh,” Blitzø scratched his neck and failed to think of a delicate way to put this. “You been up to much while I’ve been out?”
Stolas, thrown back against the cushions, legs all twisted up, still in last night’s pajamas and with last night’s rancid breath, looked up at him through four unimpressed eyes.
“No,” was all he said.
Bad day. Shit. The weekends were always roughest. At work, Blitzø could always throw something at him if he started showing signs of the sad—a lot of doodling in his journal or staring forlornly at his phone or looking off into space and sighing—but there wasn’t any overdue paperwork or sexily embellished mission reports for Blitzø to distract him with at home.
“Uhhh, heeeey—lunch time!” Blitzø clapped his hands and bustled back to the kitchen. “You hungry, big bird?”
He heard the rustle of Stolas reclining further into the couch. “No.”
“Wow, word of the day, huh?” Blitzø ignored that and started rummaging for a pan. “Come on. Not even for my Hell-famous pancakes? I’ll make ‘em with horny faces ‘specially for yooou.”
“What does—?” Another sigh. “No, thank you, Blitzø.”
He’d skipped breakfast, too. Hadn’t even been tempted, no matter how many lip smacks or semi-pornographic noises of enjoyment Blitzø had made to try and entice him over.
Blitzø’s hoof started tippy tapping anxiously on the floor. “Come on, Stolas. You’ve gotta eat some—”
“I’m not hungry!” Stolas finally rose upright, but only to fix Blitzø with a red glare. “Stop— stop fussing. Please. I’m fine.”
Stolas deflated a little, and his face slackened into something apologetic and appeasing. He turned it away, but not before Blitzø caught the shimmer in his eyes. Forsaking lunch—he wasn’t even hungry, for Satan’s sake—Blitzø padded around to the front of the couch again.
He was supposed to give Stolas space when he got like this, he was pretty sure. But Blitzø had never been good at space—not when he wasn’t the one making it.
“Okay, birdie. No fussing.” Blitzø looked down at him, arms crossed. “But in return, you’ve gotta pay the price.”
“What in Lucifer’s Hell are you talking about?” Stolas threw an arm over his eyes and sank back into the cushions.
Blitzø thrust his hand into the pile of plushies Stolas had kicked into a corner of the couch to give himself more room for his freakishly long bird legs and pulled out the one he was looking for. He held out the soft little horsie with a deadly serious gravity and said, “Give Sunbeam a kiss.”
Stolas replied flatly, “What?”
“Sunbeam says if you give her a kiss, you’ll feel better.” Blitzø shrugged, pushing the toy closer to Stolas’s face. “Listen, I’d just do what she says, okay? She’s kind of an asshole.”
“I’m not five years old.” Stolas drew up his shoulders in affront. “I don’t need to be coddled—”
“Less talky, more kissy! Or I don’t know what this crazy bitch is gonna do.”
“I’m not kissing your silly—”
Blitzø pressed Sunbeam’s tiny horsie snout the last couple of inches to Stolas’s beak and made a loud, “Mwwwaaaaaah!”
Stolas blinked. Sunbeam withdrew, regarding Stolas through her cold, beady, black eyes.
“Now, don’tcha feel better?” Blitzø asked.
“No, not really,” Stolas said, wiping his mouth as if there was anything to wipe away. “Confused, more than anything.”
Confused was a huge improvement over helplessly morose—Blitzø could totally work with that.
“Okay!” He tossed Sunbeam—respectfully—back into the pile and swapped her for another plush, this one a dapper little gentleman with a bowtie Blitzø made for him. “Unfortunately, Slime here saw the whole thing and now he wants a cup of owl sugar, too.”
“Blitzø,” Stolas said, his stern expression wavering. “What are you doing?”
“Look, Stolas, these horses have a complicated friend group and I don’t wanna fuck up the delicate ecosystem they’ve got going on with jealousy and FOMO, okay? You’re just gonna have to kiss Slime, too.”
“Blitzø,” Stolas said again, broke into a snort of laughter for a moment, then gathered himself. “This is ridiculous.”
Blitzø tilted Slime side to side, enticing Stolas with a high-pitched impersonation he’d perfected over the years. “Kiss me, pretty owl man, pweeeaaase?”
“Oh, very well.” Stolas cracked, smile breaking through. “I wouldn’t want to play favorites.”
He leant in and met Slime halfway with a quick peck. Blitzø went digging again and pulled out another horse. Stolas barked out a disbelieving laugh as Blitzø presented him with someone new.
“This is King Slut,” Blitzø explained, then yanked away when Stolas went in. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, bitch! You may kiss his hoof.”
He extended a little polyester leg.
“His hoof?” Stolas frowned, quite offended. Blitzø’s tail started swishing in excitement. Stolas was playing with him.
“Well, yeah, Stolas—he’s a king. Show some fuckin’— aaah, decorum, or some shit.”
Stolas rolled his eyes, but leaned in and bestowed upon King Slut’s regal hoof a wittle kissy.
“My liege,” he deferred as he withdrew, and Blitzø grinned so wide it nearly split his face in half.
“Okay, now this last one—I gotta warn you about him, okay, Stolas? ‘Cause this guy’s a thirsty little fucker. Don’t let him take advantage of you.”
Blitzø held up Kaboom, the sluttiest of all his horses, and watched as Stolas tried and failed to stop his cheeks dimpling.
“Thank you for the warning,” he said around a smile he could no longer hold back. “I’ll be careful.”
“Good.” Blitzø brought the plushie to his face. “Okay, go slow. Eeeaaasy…”
Stolas went to press his beak to the muzzle and, seeing his opening, Blitzø shoved Kaboom’s whole head into Stolas’s slightly parted mouth, wriggled it around, and went, “BLEAGHALALALARGH!”
While Stolas reared back in shock, Blitzø yanked Kaboom free and chastised him with a, “No, Kaboom! We talked about this! I am so sorry about this guy, Stolas.” He smacked Kaboom on the arm of the couch and then tossed him back into the pile. “Horny jail for you, pervert!”
Blitzø met Stolas’s eyes. There was a beat, and then—
“Oohoohoohoohoo~!” Stolas was laughing—really laughing, bent double, tears in the corners of his eyes. “Blitzø, that was so— You’re so—!”
Blitzø puffed out his chest, and a coil of anxiety loosened somewhere deep inside him.
I’ve got this, he thought, as he watched Stolas curl into a ball of uncontrollable giggles. I’ve got him.