wherever you find love it feels like sinsmas || Helluva Boss, Stolitz

[thecrazyalaskan]

Title: wherever you find love it feels like sinsmas
Author: TheAlaskanUKnow / fireweed15
Fandom / Setting: Helluva Boss, post-Sinsmas
Characters / Pairings: Blitzø x Stolas / Stolitz
Word Count: 1928
Rating: T+
Warnings / Notes: Written for @StolitzSecret Stolitz Secret Santa on Twitter—Merry Christmas, Merry Sinsmas and Happy Holidays to @dimplelegacy !
Summary: Stolas wakes up the morning after his first Sinsmas, and things sure do happen.
 

The smell of instant coffee was, as it turned out, more effective than any alarm clock.

Stolas stirred the consciousness, slowly stretching his long limbs out from where he'd folded into himself to fit on Blitzø's couch. The curtains were drawn, giving the morning light an almost hazy glow as he pushed himself up on one elbow.

"Mornin'."

Stolas looked up to see Blitzø, dressed casually and bearing two steaming mugs, one of which he offered to him. "Oh… thank you." He accepted the mug and sat up, the blankets spilling into his lap.

Blitzø settled into the newly vacated seat next to him and took a long, slow sip of coffee. "How was your first Sinsmas?"

Stolas blinked, disguising his thoughtful pause with a drink from the mug—like all of Blitzø's non-glass drinkware, it was horse themed. This one read Horses Keep Me Stable. "It was… something," he replied honestly.

Blitzø's face screwed up into something akin to worry—or was it disappointment? "You didn't like it?"

The idea of hurting Blitzø's feelings by not enjoying the effort he'd put into accommodating him on the holiday (or, for that matter, their precious balcony dance, the first time in Lucifer only knew how long where he'd felt happy) made Stolas feel like shards of ice had wormed their way into his heart. "No I—I enjoyed it," he corrected. "It was nice, visiting with… Miss Millie and Moxxie and with—" He paused as he glanced around the apartment. It was unusually quiet for a midweek midmorning. "Where is Loona?"

Blitzø offered an easy, one shouldered shrug. "Loonie is hanging out with friends—" He lightly elbowed Stolas, a slight, almost cautious smile coloring his features. "Just you and me today."

"Nothing to do at…" Stolas hid an embarrassed grimace behind another sip of coffee. Stars, what a fucking public crashout… "The office?"

If Blitzø was also thinking of it, he gave no sign. "Nah, we're taking the day."

They sat in silence for a moment before Stolas ventured, almost cautiously, "… So what does one do the day after Sinsmas?"

"Normally it's just another day," Blitzø replied, "but I thought we could…" He gestured vaguely. "Find our thing."

"'Our thing'?" Stolas echoed, arching an eyebrow.

"You never had a Sinsmas," he replied, "and it's been…" His tone softened, the words coming gentle—as if he was afraid of breaking Stolas. "You've been going through some shit, and gonna be honest, my Sinsmas memories are kinda… ehh."

Stolas reached over Blitzø long to put his coffee mug on the end table. "I don't understand."

"Like… I have some good memories," he started, "but a lot of it is kinda tainted with stuff I wouldn't wish on Loonie—" Now it was Blitzø's turn to punctuate his thoughts (or was he hiding his true feelings?) with a long sip of coffee. "Christ on a stick, or on any other kid, for that matter."

"What were your childhood Sinsmases like?" Stolas drew his long limbs up under himself, picking at a loose thread in the blanket covering his lap. "They were spent with the circus, I take it?"

"Yeah." Blitzø chuckled, letting years of memories wash over him. "It was crazy with us kids running all over. I spent most of it with Fizz and… Barb—that's my twin sister."

"It must have been nice for your parents," Stolas offered. He wondered how many Sinsmases Blitzø had gotten with his sister before whatever had happened that caused the wedge between them, but that felt like entirely too personal a question to ask, especially now.

"Maybe." Blitzø shrugged, his fingers tightening microscopically around the Yes I Really Do Need All These Horses mug. "Dad was usually good and liquored up." Another thoughtful pause, his expression growing soft and sad in equal measure. "Mom seemed to like it though—she was the one who made the Sinsmas magic happen. It was never quite the same after…" He took a deep, shuddering breath, as if bracing himself to finish the thought. "Before she died."

Was this the first time Blitzø had talked about his mother before? Or had Stolas forgotten? "Your mother sounds like a wonderful woman," he said quietly. After a beat of hesitation, he slid his hand toward Blitzø's, loosely lacing their fingers together in soft, wordless comfort.

Blitzø squeezed Stolas' fingers in return, a gesture he didn't know would bring him so much relief until it happened. "She was. I… I miss her—" He set his mug down next to Stolas' and rubbed one eye with the heel of his free hand. "I mean, I miss her all the time, but especially this time of year, y'know?"

"I'm sorry. I wish I could have met her," Stolas offered sincerely. Any woman who was so precious to Blitzø was no doubt someone, indeed…

Blitzø looked up at Stolas, eyes shiny but with a contented, almost peaceful smile as he considered his face. "…She'd've loved you, Stols."

The words made Stolas' heart stick in his throat—it was perhaps the most ringing endorsement Blitzø could give him, and in a way it reminded him of the way he loved Via. Did he dare to hope that in the years, decades, centuries down the line, that Via would have a conversation like this with a loved one of her own, or was he going to be daemon non grata for the rest of her life? He felt tears welling up in his eyes, and he rapidly blinked them away, breaking his hand hold with Blitzø to hastily wipe away the rest. "So—ahh… our thing?"

Sensing the emotional out, Blitzø sighed, slapped his hands on his thighs and stood. "Well we're not gonna find it sitting on the couch." He turned and offered him a half smile and extended hand. "C'mon, Stols."

❄️❄️❄️

Imp City was just as quiet as the apartment.

They drove around in the van in relative silence, save for the radio stations playing the last of its Sinsmas lineup and the occasional Pride Ring Public Radio (PRPR) news update (something was going down at that hotel in Pentagram City, but what else was new?). They acknowledged when a light snow began to fall, and the sound of windshield wipers underscored the radio, but remained silent.

Soon, they reached the city's outer limits. Instinct seemed to take over the way Blitzø drove, and soon he was turning into a loosely defined, unpaved parking area. "Here we are."

"And here is…?" Stolas asked, one hand on the door handle but not quite ready to step out. Of course he trusted Blitzø completely, but something had to be said for self-preservation…

Blitzø waved a hand, as if conjuring the word. "It's… fairgrounds? Gathering space? Not too sure what exactly to call it—we used to set up the circus here." He opened the door and hopped out, the accumulating snow crunching under his boots as he rounded the van and opened the passenger side door. "There's a lake—we're going ice skating."

"Skating?" Stolas echoed.

"If you have other ideas, I'm open to them." It was easy to imagine a sarcastic edge to the words, but Blitzø looked up at him, their fingers laced together with confident, comforting ease, and it was impossible to imagine him saying them with malice.

"No, I... I don't." Stolas felt himself smile—slight at first, then a little wider. "It sounds fun."

They walked hand in hand, their footprints adding to the well-tamped footpath up a gentle slope. As they crested the hill, they could see the lake Blitzø had referred to, frozen over and large enough to comfortably accommodate a dozen Hellborn gliding on the ice. Dotted along the shore of the lake were stalls staffed by Imps renting out ice skates, and a few others selling food and drinks.

Blitzø paid the fee for two pairs of skates, one of which he offered to Stolas. "Do you know how?"

"I don't," Stolas admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Blitzø blinked in surprise, the proffered skates lowering slightly. "That was never one of your fancy childhood activities?"

"I'm sure I have half-siblings who learned as children," he replied, "but my duties were to learn about the heavens and their prophecies, so I never…"

"It's fine—" Bltizø led him to one of the benches on the edge of the lake. "I'll show you the ropes."

They sat in silence, lacing the skates—sturdy but well worn leather and shiny sharpened blades—tightly before standing. Blitzø was on the ice faster than Stolas could blink, but Stolas found himself wobbling on his feet, and more than once windmilling his long arms to try to stay upright—and that was before he set the blades to the ice. "Blitzø, somehow, I don't think this is for me."

"It'll be fun," he enthused, rubbing his hands together. "I promise."

Stolas eyed him warily, half tempted to return the skates and return to the van to sit and dissociate in silence, before Blitzø took his hands, lightly squeezing his fingers. "I promise, I won't let anything bad happen to you. Trust me?"

After everything he'd been through, after everything that had happened, after all that he had lost? It would have been easy, damn near understandable, for someone to tell Blitzø to get fucked and leave him there. Stolas, however… Oh, Lucifer help him, he did trust him—"Implicitly."

And that trust was put to the test over the course of the next hour, Blitzø, hand in hand with him, teaching him the basics—how to step onto the ice without eating shit was the all important Lesson One, followed by how to push off, to not lose momentum, to turn and steer and stop—with patience and grace and a non attention drawing amount of concern when Stolas ended up on his ass after all.

Soon they were making a slow, easy going circuit around the edge of the lake. He moved as Blitzø instructed, trying not to think about it lest he get too into his thoughts—which was easier than expected when half of his attention was focused on Blitzø and the easy, confident way he moved on the ice, the easy turns and flourishes and more than once skating backwards while talking to Stolas. "You're good," he finally observed, gesturing to him.

"Like riding a bicycle," Blitzø replied, shrugging easily. "Or maybe it's the years of doing dangerous circus stunts as a kid." Stolas stared at him, eyes wide and concern coloring his expression, and Blitzø couldn't help but laugh in response. "That's a joke Stols, you're allowed to laugh."

And despite it all, Stolas laughed with him.

❄️❄️❄️

"Y'know humans have a saying about it down here."

From where he was seated on one of the benches around the lake, when Stolas shifted his attention from the rosy colors of the setting sun to Blitzø, he was able to easily look the Imp in the eye. "Oh?"

Blitzø sat beside him and offered a paper coffee cup of something steaming. When Stolas accepted it and took a sip, it was chocolatey and sweet (and spiked with beezeljuice), and went down smooth. "Yeah," Blitzø confirmed, sipping from his own cup. "'It'll be a cold day in Hell' before something or whatever." A brief, thoughtful pause. "I don't think they realize what it's like down here."

They sat in silence. Most of the other skaters had departed, leaving them alone to their thoughts and company. It was in this comfortable solitude that Stolas reached down and allowed his fingers to lace together with Blitzø's. "This is nice."

Blitzø's expression warmed, his affection for Stolas fully on display now as he   Stolas' fingers in response. "Yeah, that’s Sinsmas for ya."