Disclaimer: I don't own Helluva Boss!

Title: Rock paper scissors

Summary: Stolas talks to Octavia about options in the upcoming divorce.

Setting: Right after the end of The Circus

...

Stella doesn't always yell. She is a woman with vocal cords after all, and they do get sore eventually. But she's always had an impressive diaphragm (she'd never tell anyone, but Stolas knows she's gifted in many musical arts, including various woodwinds) and a penchant for drama. Like tonight, where she yeets clothing so fast and hard they land on vases, on the light fixture, in Stolas' face- generally causing a ruckus.

"Shhh," he pleads, carefully folding a very expensive cardigan. "You'll wake Octavia."

"Don't shush me! She's a teenager- the girl's likely awake all on her own."

Despite their wealth, Stella slams an average looking duffel bag on the bed and gets to throwing stuff in to take for the night. Stolas carefully removes and folds each bit of clothing before returning them. It's a nice distraction from the fact that he'd just thrown down the towel for divorce.

He broaches the brittle silence as she zips it all away. "Did you want to take her with you?"

"What, and make her sleep on the couch? Like some goddamn commoner?" Stella throws the bag over her shoulder as Stolas went to hold open the door. "Where was this our whole ass marriage?"

"It was there. You didn't see it, but it was there."

"Bullshit," she seethed, poking him in the chest. "Don't act like you're the victim in all of this. Always so busy with your stupid books and that girl. You never gave a rat's ass what was going on with me."

"Stella-"

"I never asked you to love me! I never did!" Her voice broke a little. "I asked you to respect me. And you couldn't even give me that. Galivanting around with that imp and making it my problem to deal with. You don't even know how hard it was for me, putting out PR fires like some fucking saint."

"I never asked for you to do that."

"No. You didn't. But excuse me for not wanting our name to go down the toilet." She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her beak. "Whatever. It'll all be dealt with soon enough."

(Stolas knows she doesn't mean the divorce. He may be a bit clueless, but you don't spend nearly twenty years living with someone and not know them. If he had to guess, whatever she was planning was particularly vindictive. But he'd accepted that possibility.)

"Soon enough," he agrees, shifting the door a bit wider.

Stella harrumphs and leaves, shattering a vase or two on her way out. It's subdued of her. Stolas knows she's doing her best- not for him, but for Octavia.

Sitting on the edge of his best, Stolas massaged his neck and wondered when the hangover would leave him. He wanted to call Blitzo- tell him the good news, maybe invite him over- but he was still hurt. He'd made a mess of that, too. Downing the glass of water he kept by his bed (for Stella's throat, actually), Stolas pondered how he could be a better person. What he needed to do to make amends. He didn't exactly have a lot of shining examples of upward growth in a place like Hell.

"Dad?"

Startled, Stolas turned to see Octavia in the doorway. Like Stella has guessed, she was still in her regular clothes. Up late with her taxidermy, probably. "Octavia. Your mother has gone to visit your grandmother again. We're... getting a divorce."

"I know. I heard you yelling."

"I'm sorry."

Octavia carefully dodged around clothes more expensive than the average car as she came to sit on the bed beside him, hugging her arms tight. "Did you... really mean that? That you only married mum to have me?"

"We only married each other," he corrected gently. "The Goetia family has always required a new member to have an heir. Your mother and I were engaged before we even reached puberty."

"I'm not engaged."

"And that's why your grandfather never visits. Stella and I both agreed that you should never have to marry anyone you didn't want to."

Stolas is greatly underplaying it, of course. Paimon was not happy to hear that news, and it was why Octavia had never been given her own royal role. Stolas had gone to bat by prescribing Octavia as his future apprentice, someone to take his place when he passed. It'd been one of the few things he and Stella had both been adamant about.

Octavia fidgets with her fingers, unaware of just how big of a deal she really was. "So you... never loved mum?"

"Darling, I..." Stolas struggled to find the words. He couldn't fail her. Not a second time. "I am not of a..." He sighed. "I don't know the 'proper' way to say this. I'm gay, dearest. I've known most my life. Stella knew long before we were wed- and we agreed that even if we would never love each other, we could be good to each other. And then..."

"You cheated," Octavia states flatly.

There was so much she didn't know, Stolas thought. It hadn't felt right to ruin Stella's image- bitch she could be, she was still Octavia's mother. She didn't know about the abuse, or how neglectful Stella has been to her as an egg, or how Stella's hand had shook as she sobbed the first time she slapped him. "It was... a good part of the issue."

She fiddles more with her hands, lacing and unlacing them together. Stolas wonders if he should apologize. Octavia was the one who would suffer the most from all of this, as she had with it all before. But Stolas couldn't find it in him to do so. To say 'I'm sorry I drove her away'. It wasn't as simple as that.

"Mum'll decimate you in court," she says finally.

Stolas laughs bitterly. "Oh, I know. She's always been much craftier than I." The Ars Goetia family had some damn good lawyers, thankfully, so it wouldn't leave him destitute, but this wouldn't be the first time someone had stolen his fortune away- that would be Blitzo. "Via, I... I won't ask you to stay with me. You're old enough to make your own choices, and I know Stella will take good care of you. But this house will always be open to you, and-"

"Do you miss him?" Octavia asks suddenly. Stolas blinks at her, baffled. "Grandpa."

Stolas slowly shook his head. "No, not at all. I... I never got to know him, really." It was his turn to fiddle with his fingers, counting the hours they'd spent together. It was... stars, it'd have to be less than a day's worth. "I only saw him once every five years. He has a lot of children, you see, and I was not his top priority. So every five years or so he'd make a point to poke his head in, make sure I was learning my spells, and leave. I was raised mostly by an old imp."

"That explains a lot," she grouses, and Stolas finds it in him to chuckle. It probably did. "But you've been here every day. Even- even when mum was at her worst, you stayed and had dinner with me."

"Always," promises Stolas, taking one of her hands. Their fingers lace together much more awkwardly than with their own individual hands. "I told myself that I would spend every day I could with any chicks I might have. I might not have been a good father, but... I made sure to be a present one."

"And that's why I want to stay here," she decides, but Stolas was sure Octavia had decided long ago. This was far from a sudden parting. "Besides. All my favorite things are here."

"We can.. move your things, darling," he offered, trying to be helpful.

Octavia sighs explosively. "I'm saying I love you and junk, you old fuck."

"Oh." Stolas looked at his claws and smiled. He already felt much lighter. "I love you and junk too, Via."

"I know. You're embarrassing."

Stolas said nothing, pulling her in for a hug. He'd been called much worse. He'd been much worse. An embarrassment was the only blessing he had left.

Well, that, and Octavia.

Author's Note: Woo it's fun to write the borbs. I actually have, like, this whole long oneshot idea of Stella and Stolas through the years. It's more about giving gray-ish-ness to the marriage than anything else. But the basics of it are also in here- that Stella and Stolas once promised to be good to each other, even if they weren't in love, and over the years it just... fell apart. I'm not saying Stella isn't abusive, of course, but that all abuse starts somewhere.

-Mandaree1