Chapter Text
The days blur together, and sometimes it's even more of a blur than when he wandered his vast gilded cage, thinking of how he only needed to endure just a bit longer, just long enough for his strong and beautiful daughter to be able to take her place in the Ars Goetia.
But apparently he's been working at IMP long enough to be given his first paycheck.
"It's not..." Blitz sighs. Somehow he looks embarrassed, as if he's the one who should be ashamed that Stolas is fit for nothing except the tasks none of them want to do. "Look, I know it's not enough. Just..."
Although Stolas has found he's enjoyed it. Sorting the files is a bit like a puzzle, an interesting problem to untangle. And some of it's very interesting, all the ghastly fates of the clients and their appalling requests.
And the Sinners haven't the slightest idea who he is or was or even what he is--just as he gave little thought to them before Blitz came back into his life, the deceased humans have never heard of a Goetic demon, and so Stolas can enjoy talking to the clients. All of their stupid, petty grievances, their all-consuming lust for revenge--it's better than a soap opera.
"Once things pick up it'll be a little bit less...violating labor laws," Blitz says.
"Blitz, I..."
The number on the check doesn't mean anything to him because Stolas has never had to actually understand money before. He still doesn't--Blitz has fed him and clothed him and only told him not to worry about it. He eats as little of Blitz's food as possible--his always erratic and he's tried to get away with only a few pieces of clothing, just enough that he doesn't have to be even more of an imposition by constantly borrowing Loona's things.
"I can't--"
"Okay, love seeing that hustle, Stols, but save that killer negotiating energy for when I can actually, you know, pay you what you're worth."
"I'm not worth anything," Stolas says. "Blitz, you've already given me so much. I can't--"
"Stop it," Blitz says. "You need a place to stay, you've got it. I don't..." He grimaces. "When you're going through shit, you shouldn't have to worry about rent. That--" he taps the check in Stolas' hands--"is yours, all right? All of it."
Stolas looks at the check and the number written on it that means absolutely nothing to him. Is it what he might have once spent on a nice cape? The cost of a bottle of the strongest absinthe? The wages he might have once paid his own staff?
All his life he's simply had money or rather access to it. This amount, whatever it might actually be worth, is the first money that's ever actually been his.
"You earned it, okay?" Blitz tells him, softly touching the back of his hand. "Fuck, you earned it for not just looking at the files and running out of here screaming."
"I don't..." Stolas bites his lower beak. His new life is just a series of pathetic admissions. "I've lost access to all my accounts."
"Well, good news, Stolas," Blitz says. "Because now we get to go to the bank on pay day with all the other working class assholes."
"Is that good news?" Stolas asks.
"No," Blitz says. "No, it's a huge pain in the ass, and everything's slow and terrible. But maybe once we get you a checking account, you can figure out how the fuck direct deposit works and get M&M and Loona off my ass?"
"Nah, I don't care," Loona says from her desk. "Not my problem nobody told you old fucks about mobile deposit."
"My baby is so smart," Blitz says.
Stolas doesn't realize he's started crying again until he looks up and he's in Blitz's office, seated in the visitor's chair with Blitz in front of him, holding his hands.
"We'll go to the bank," Blitz says. "Then I think you should buy something stupid. I'm thinking something stupid you've wanted or maybe just some dumb impulse purchase?"
"What?" Stolas asks.
"Another pay day tradition. You'll need it after the bullshit we're going to have to deal with at the bank."
"You don't have to--"
"I absolutely fucking do," Blitz says. "Stolas, there is going to be a huge fucking line, and it is going to be so boring, and then you're going to have to talk to some chucklefuck who opens checking accounts all god damn day but also somehow does not actually know how to fucking set up a checking account. And you are not actually as good at yelling at minimum wage dipshits as I thought you'd be, so, yeah, my big dick energy is going to be very necessary to this whole thing." Blitz squeezes his hands and pulls him to his feet. "So let's go ruin our whole afternoon."
"I don't want to ruin your afternoon," Stolas mumbles. He's been feeling...not as bad, but he's so tired of being a burden.
"Well, too fucking bad, because we are going to the bank!" Blitz says, loud and cheerful, but his voice drops as he adds, "You'll see her, okay?"
Stolas shakes his head. "I'm banishèd."
"Uh huh," Blitz says, still holding his hands. "Yeah, well, fuck that. Me and Loona are working on it. Might...might take some time to figure out a way around all the royal bullshit, so...let's get you a checking account and get some of that first paycheck wasted, all right?"
***
"You don't have any sort of agreement?" Stolas asks after the client leaves.
"Uh, we agree to kill the shit out of whoever they want, and they agree to pay us," Blitz says.
"A handshake agreement then?"
"Oh, no," says Blitz. "No, no, no, no, no. Do not fucking shake their hands for anything. Pretty sure they can't pull their Overlord thing on us, but I am not taking that fucking chance."
Stolas makes a note to research Overlords. He's not familiar with what Blitz is alluding to, but it seems as though it might be important for IMP--anything involving Sinners surely is. "But there's no formal contract or anything?"
"No?" Blitz is watching him in a way Stolas can't quite figure out. "You think...you think that's something we need?"
"I don't want to overstep, but--"
Blitz leers at him, maybe joking, maybe not. "Oh, no, step on me, Stolas."
He knows he must be blushing furiously, but Stolas still continues, "I've just noticed the majority of our clientele seem to be violent fuckheads?"
"Uh huh, yeah, pretty much. Basically the whole business model."
"And with the...recurring walls thing, I thought--"
"Oh my Satan, the fucking walls," Blitz mutters. "Look, Stolas, you can do whatever magic words fuckery you want if it'll stop them fucking with my fucking walls!"
"So it's all right if I attempt to draft something like that?" Stolas asks.
"Yeah, if you want to take a crack at it," Blitz says. "And, you know, if maybe you want to step on me or handcuff me to something when you turn it in, maybe...maybe go ahead and trust those instincts?"
***
Pay day comes again. Stolas still doesn't know whether he's being underpaid or overpaid--surely overpaid given how easy his tasks have been and how much Blitz continues to do for him--but Moxxie and Millie seem pleased with him.
"Thank fuck somebody was finally able to talk Blitz into setting up direct deposit," Moxxie says. "It's so much more efficient."
"I think he just liked having that big fucking binder and signing checks," Millie says. "Very Mr. Big Business Man." There is apparently a posture and a way of swinging one's arms that goes with saying "Mr. Big Business Man."
"And I think I told you both I'll dock your pay for talking shit about me to Stolas!" Blitz says.
Millie rolls her eyes. "Uh huh. You even finished paying our back wages from that month when--"
"Millie, if you finish that sentence, I swear to fuck--"
"Don't forget our pension," Moxxie mutters.
"Okay, Moxxie, you got time to lean, you got time to shut your whore mouth!"
"Is there an issue with the pension?" Stolas asks. He's only heard about such things in books and television shows and movies--there's no retirement from one's place in the Ars Goetia. Maybe it's something he can "take a crack at" like the files and the intake reports and the client agreements.
Millie and Moxxie say yes as Blitz says no. Loona neither comments nor looks up from her phone. There is somehow a very heated conversation between the imps without any words, only looks and gestures that Stolas can't quite understand (well, except the cruder gestures from Blitz), but the day continues as usual until Blitz tells him he has a quick errand on the way home. It won't take long, and he'll pick up something for dinner--unless Stolas wants to go out?
Stolas doesn't. Other demons have started to lose interest in throwing things at him and even the insults are starting to stop, but they still stare. Stolas has noticed that this seems to bother Blitz (probably because it makes Stolas even more of a chore) so it's better if he stays in the office or the apartment as much as possible.
And even if he could go about Hell peacefully, Stolas wants to go out to dinner because he's someone worth spending time with, not because he's some sad, useless thing that has to be cheered up or kept occupied.
"No problem," Blitz says, and Stolas thinks that he really needs to get better at hiding his pathetic feelings again. "We'll stay in, and I'll have you all to myself."
Loona is fixing her makeup at her desk--she's meeting her friends at the shitty dive bar down the street and then they're going to the movies, so Blitz opens a portal into the apartment so Stolas won't have to walk there by himself.
As soon as the portal closes behind him, Stolas covers his face with his hands and sobs. He used to dream about having a gentleman friend to escort him places, and now he hates that he can't just go wherever he likes. He can't even perform the first spell he ever learned; someone else has to open a portal for him or drive him somewhere. He actually needs a bodyguard now in case someone throws a brick at him instead of a sandwich.
And it seems so obvious that Blitz would be so much happier if he weren't here, taking up space and needing so much. Still just a privileged asshole just without any of the privileges that made him somewhat tolerable. Because he is just taking what he's offered and providing nothing in return, just a pathetic burden, a selfish albatross. Sometimes he wants to take, greedily snatching every scrap of affection his only friend is willing to bestow.
Sometimes, in between filling and drafting the new client agreement and learning about Overlords and their contracts, Stolas tries to think of a means that won't cause any additional trouble. The loss of his invulnerability has opened up so many more options, but he doesn't want to leave a mess. Honestly it seems a bit rude to even leave a corpse to deal with. Sometimes the best option seems to be to write a nice thank you note and slip away to the ocean. Maybe Envy--he's never really been.
"You're doing very well," he tells Beignet as he listens for her dinner.
The building is absolutely infested with mice, and it's nice to be able to feed them both without having to trouble Blitz any further. And Beignet really prefers live food. Her color is looking so much better. A beautiful bruise-colored purple runs through the white on her muzzle and throat now, just as vibrant as Stolas predicted.
"I think Blitz and Loona would be able to properly care for you," he says. "If I left instructions. I don't know how many live meals you'd be getting, but..."
Beignet nudges again his hand, impatient for the evening meal.
"I really think that would be better," Stolas tells her. "And your vines are growing back nicely. Perhaps you'll be catching them yourself soon."
It is very fun catching the little scurrying things. Sometimes he'll just pop one in his mouth before snatching another in his claws for Beignet--no point in letting Blitz waste food on him when the walls are so well stocked.
Stolas dives down and grabs this one before it can dart under the couch, too intent on making sure it doesn't get away to notice the door has opened until he hears Blitz say, "Wow, that's kind of hot."
Stolas turns his head, not sure if he should be embarrassed to be found crouching on the floor, clutching a wriggling snack in his talons. "Um..."
"Okay, I lied," Blitz says, still holding a takeout bag and a rectangular box. "That's real fucking hot. You really phoned it in when we did the dinosaur thing."
"Oh..."
"You think you could do that with something bigger?"
Stolas slowly stands. He can feel the mouse's terrified heartbeat under his talons; he knows Beignet is watching him, eagerly waiting for her dinner. "Like a rabbit?"
"Thinking bigger?" Blitz says.
"Maybe?" He drops the mouse into Beignet's open jaws. He has no idea what Blitz is asking him--he's never really had the opportunity or the inclination to try for anything bigger than a rat. "Oh, fuck, did you...I'm being rude, aren't I? I didn't even think to offer you--"
"No, I'm good," Blitz says, setting the food down on the table. "Did my own way less sexy hunter gatherer thing at Hardee's. Don't worry--went to the one where you can't see if they spit in the food."
"Is that better?" Stolas asks.
"Yeah? Like a little mystery sometimes."
"Oh," says Stolas. "Um..." It feels as though he should be embarrassed about the mice; he can't even be less of a bother properly.
Blitz smiles and holds out the box. "Got you something."
"No," Stolas says.
"For your birthday," Blitz says.
"What? It's not my birthday," Stolas says.
"Yeah, I know," Blitz says. "But you know, it will be. Eventually. Look, at least open it before you decide to be a dick about it?"
It's a new robe, dark blue and covered with silver constellations. It's so dissimilar to his favorite robe that it must be deliberate--something that won't make him have to think about the fact that it isn't quite the same.
"Pretty sure you haven't spent a penny of your paychecks, so..." Blitz shrugs, not quite looking at him. "Thought you could use an impulse purchase. That I kind of planned."
Stolas sits on Blitz's couch in Blitz's apartment wearing the clothes Blitz has bought for him and holding the robe that Blitz has bought for him and wonders if this is how it felt when he would offer things to Blitz without a thought. And then he realizes how terrible it is to think that because Blitz has a successful business and now Stolas has absolutely nothing save whatever pity has given him a place to stay and the clothes on his back and the money in his new bank account.
"And I always kind of got the vibe that you kind of hate wearing clothes?" Blitz says. "Also I ate the receipt in case you did...this."
"You what?"
"Ate the receipt. So we can't return it, and I'm going to look like a fucking idiot in it, so..."
"Why are you doing all of this?" Stolas asks.
"Because I can," Blitz says. "Because...I want to."
"You don't--"
"For fuck's sake, Stolas, can we just fucking...fuck you, I'm taking care of you whether you like it or not!"
"You don't have to," Stolas says quietly, clutching the robe in his fists as if it's something he's caught.
"Yeah, no shit," Blitz says. "So you can either be a pain in the fucking ass about it and keep eating whatever lives in the walls or you can come eat our shitty dinner before it gets any colder and maybe we'll do some hand stuff on the couch if you're up for it?"
Stolas looks at the new robe. He misses his daughter and his magic and he also misses putting on his familiar, comfortable robe when he gets out of the bath or stops working.
"Full disclosure, I am not wasting having the apartment to ourselves, so I am fully planning on fiddling with myself regardless," Blitz says. "Also would really love it if you kept doing the pest control thing? Asshole landlord clearly doesn't care, and apparently Loona can hear the little fuckers?"
"Are you saying you can't?" Stolas asks.
"Okay, so did not think that would get the bigger reaction...you want to have dinner with me?"
The fabric of the robe is soft--not a worn, frequently washed softness, but not unpleasant as he traces the constellation Andromeda with a finger. It's not something he might have chosen for himself, but it's something he would like.
"Could I change first?" he asks.