Disclaimer: I don't own Helluva Boss
Title: Boss Ass Bitch
Summary: Stolas has an incident in the market and Blitzo decides to be perfectly normal and demure about the whole thing.
...
The problem with Stolas is that Stolas is used to a fucking maid cleaning his house every fucking day, Blitzo reflected. Stolas had gotten the hang of cleaning pretty quickly and had made it his pastime, swabbing countertops and plunging drains. It was exhausting just to look at him. He understood, you know? There's times in life where stopping feels less like the answer and more like death; like you're a shark in a deep, dark ocean.
And, fuck, it's been a couple weeks since the trial. He thought it was safe to send Stolas out for groceries. They'd already gone together, and Stolas quickly proved to be very adept at finding coupons and deals and all that other shit that Blitz tended to power through out of sheer spite. He'd saved them almost thirty dollars that day, and they didn't even swap out many brands. The owl had a knack of money, funnily enough.
"Stella gave me a budget every month," he'd recounted quietly, sorting through scattered bills in the ashtray in front of the tv. "I didn't make much anyway- our expenses are paid by the family's bank account, and so is most of Stella's things- but I was given what I personally made to play with. I bought quite a lot of exotic plant food."
So, he was used to big numbers. Blitzo didn't think that'd be too big of a problem. It was just axing off a zero. And Stolas liked that math shit.
Blitzo, wanting Stolas to be able to stop having a hernia, took to the bathroom while he was gone, giving it a good scrub. The drain situation had been so simple before he'd adopted a hellhound and an owl demon, but now he was pulling disgusting handfuls and trying not to gag. He didn't even realize he still had a gag reflex!
He's washing his hands of that monstrosity when Loona's door bursts open and she stands in the doorframe, huffing and puffing like she ran a mile. Her eyes were wide. "Blitz," she hissed, and fell silent, staring at the door.
The part of Blitz not freaking out (since when did Loona follow horror movie logic?) went into action, sending him careening over the couch to the floor. His hands fumbled across the cushions for his pistol. He went to aim at the door when Loona, still bristling, waved a hand distractedly behind her to tell him it wasn't dangerous. His brow creased.
The doorknob jiggled, and Stolas carefully came in with hands full of groceries. He paused and stared back at them. "What?"
"What the fuck?" Blitz asked him, quite pointedly. Stolas looked like shit; his feathers were crunched and broken and generally out of place, but even they didn't hide the deep, dark bruising against his left shoulder and upper arm. There was a cut across his eye, which he kept squinted against gushing blood. His shirt had been pulled and ripped to the side, revealing most of his upper body.
Stolas waved his little fingers in a fancy little dance atop the plastic rings of the bags to wave him off, nonchalantly, like this was normal or something. "There was a small disturbance at the market. Nothing serious."
Loona, broken out of her stupor, vanished in and out of the bathroom to pull out cotton pads and antiseptic, which she then gingerly applied to his forehead. Stolas winced, his top eyes squinting to keep themselves open. "Loona, dear, really. I need to put these down."
"You're bleeding, dumbass," she said flatly.
"Head wounds always bleed worse than they are. You should know that by now- you're assassins." He shook her off and strolled over to the counter, setting the bags down. "Now. I must clean up. There's nothing refrigerated in there, so no need to worry yourselves with the bags. I'll be out very soon."
The bathroom door clicked shut. Blitz heard the water get turned on in the sink- the sink he'd maniacally scrubbed while he was away to make him feel a little better- and their water pressure is shitty enough and the walls are thin enough that even all that can't cover the sounds of Stolas beginning to weep. Blitz's trigger finger itched.
"You got the scent of the assfucks who did this?" he asked Loona quietly.
Loona stared at him blankly. "No shit?"
"Good. We're going to the market."
Market is just fancy talk for "tiny ass strip mall that sells things so cheap it'll make your wallet cry", but Blitz isn't here to peruse the shelves. He kind of has an idea of who did this shit- you live in any poor neighborhood long enough, you get to know its troublemakers personally- and they don't hide out in the fucking Hell Walmart. They hang out in the back alley behind the Hell Walmart, because they're the kind of fucks who think that makes them cool or some shit.
Blitz cocks his pistol and waves Loona after him. He'll fucking show them who's cool. He's got a gun and a hellhound (and a daughter! The two for one deal always did make the Greed-born part of him happy) and a bird man crying in his bathroom because of their bullshit. He signals to her to stand in the front of the alley and plunges into the shittiest part of this already shit part of town.
He expects a fight.
He doesn't expect... this.
The three kids- they're all kids, jesus christ. Blitz didn't think a single one was within spitting distance of his age. The oldest was maybe twenty-two?- all stop and cheer him as he approaches. They clap and shove each other's shoulders like this is a great occasion. "Blitzo!" one even calls out; like they're friends or something.
"The O is silent, asshole!" he snaps back without thinking. Sometimes it feels a bit silly to correct imps on his name- after all, he's about to beat the shit out of them- but he's gotten so damn used to it with clients it's like a pavlovian response. "Which one of you little dickfucks hurt the bird?"
"We just roughed 'em up a lil', boss. It's not big deal." The leader smiles at him with fangs full of braces, and he really doesn't want to relive his teen years here, but those things were the bane of his existence until he got them off. "You gotta tell us, man. How'd you break him?"
"Break him?" Blitzo asks, faux-calm. It's like there's a storm in his skull that he just can't emote- like if he tries it'll all bust out of him and drown everyone in sight. Or set them on fire. Fire was more his speed, anyway. Fizz knew all about that.
"He's totally destroyed! We all saw 'em going up and down the aisles like a fucking lunatic. Then he bowed to me when he left!" The imp has a good chuckle over that, slapping him on the shoulder. "You did great work on that pompous rich twat, buddy."
Blitz doesn't even feel himself move. One second he's staring down this weird fucking kid, the next he's got the little shit slammed against the wall, gun to his head. It's not as brutal as he'd normally be. Normally, he would've shoved it down the guy's throat.
Kind. He can be kind about this. For the kids.
"You listen to me, shitstain, and listen good," he hisses in the kid's ear. The other two try to flee but are cut off by his hulking daughter snarling at them. Her fur is lifted and in the grimy alley her eyes almost seem to glow. "That bird is fucking mine. You don't touch a single fucking feather on his stupid, fuckable head. You got me?"
The imp has the gall to argue with him. His eyes are teary, like Blitz had actually done something wrong here. "But the trial! He treated you like-"
"Who fucking cares? I'm an assassin- I can take a little bullshit. You're seriously getting butthurt over some shit you saw on VoxNews?" He presses the barrel down harder, just to get it across. "Mine. Not yours. Got it?"
He slowly, shakily nods, and Blitzo drops his ass to the ground like filth. He claps his hands off of dust and dry-fires the gun. As if he'd actually waste bullets on these cretins. "Don't fucking make me come back again. You won't like me if I have to come back again."
Loona slowly lets her fur lie flat. She pulls out her phone and follows him obediently as they walk away together. The leader imp is scrabbling to get to his knees as they go, calling, "You were my hero, asshole!"
Some fucking hero.
Stolas is putting groceries away when they return, clean and fresh and proper. If Blitz hadn't heard it firsthand he never would've guessed what had happened. Darkly, he wondered exactly how many times Stolas had pulled that exact same trick. With his wife. With him.
The owl breeches the awkward silence. "You were gone for quite awhile. Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, it's fine," Blitz lies, putting a gallon of hell milk on the counter. "You forgot the milk, so me'n Looney figured we'd go get you some. No need to go back twice, right?"
Stolas blinks and retrieves his own gallon. "I didn't forget."
"Then it's extra! Whatever."
Blitz tries not to feel anything as Stolas sets the milk down and approaches him. The Goetia bends at the waist to be eye-level, a long-fingered hand reaching up absentmindedly to stroke a horn. "You don't need to fight my battles, Blitz. I'm a grown owl."
"Look, Stolas," he sighs. "This is just- I just wanted to... you know. Push 'em around a bit. They should leave your ass alone now, and if they don't, I'll make those little fuckers eat my-"
"Blitz."
He deflated a little. "Stolas, this is the one thing I'm good at. Just. Let me keep doing it, please?"
"You can't defend me from every little blow to my ego, Blitz. You've got a job. A life. Don't throw all of that away because children wanted to make a fuss."
"He called me his hero. Can you believe that shit?"
"I can," Stolas promises, hand slowly reaching down to hold his cheek. "You're a very heroic demon, Blitz."
"Bullshit. I kill people for a living."
"You've saved me- over and over again."
"Then why couldn't I save you when it mattered most?" he asks, then regrets it immediately when Stolas flinches as if slapped. "Wait, Stolas, I meant-"
Stolas shushes him with a fond shake of his head. "Blitz. I gave my freedom away for you. I did it for you, remember? Because you saved me from a horrible, sad life. Consider that my way of... letting you break out of the chains that hold you to me. You don't owe me anything. You gave me a house, a life, a job-"
"The best fuck of your life?"
"Well, obviously," he titters, rolling with the abrupt conversation change. They're getting better at understanding each other's boundaries. "Now. Let us unpack all these groceries, shall we?"
"Do I gotta help?" Blitz whines, but he doesn't mean it. "I just kicked the shit out of someone for you."
Stolas shakes his head and laughs, and he's so pretty Blitz is pretty much forced to unpack the fucking groceries, and maybe that's what he should've done while Stolas was crying. Maybe he should've done more. But he likes to think he did pretty alright out there today. For once.
For Stolas.
Author's Note: For a friend! It was a pretty detailed idea, so I hope it got it out the way you'd hoped!
-Mandaree1