Chapter Text
Blitz lay on his side, propped up on his elbow, digging into the mattress below him, his hand squished against his cheek, staring at his sleeping husband. Even after all these years, the sight of Stolas softened something in his chest. It made his heart crack and flow with molten light that went through his veins and had his whole being warm and glowy.
Stolas splayed across their duvet, long limbs spread in all directions, in that careless way he slept now that he shared it with someone who actually loved him. His features were soft and unbothered. The light from Pride’s morning sky spilled through the split in the curtains and shone on Stolas, making his feathers look shiny silver instead of their normal gray and warm to the touch as he reached out to stroke his cheek.
Blitz moved his hand and traced and cupped the outline of his eggs growing in his sleeping husband’s stomach. He thumbed at the warm and taut skin. With his rather large hands, Blitz could hold both of the eggs in each hand perfectly. He often did it while Stolas stood for long periods, coming up behind his bird and holding their children so Stolas didn’t have to deal with the burden for a while. The imp loved the weight of them, knowing the two pounds he held in each hand would soon be his babies.
Blitz dragged his claws up and down the owl’s abdomen. He ran his fingers through Stolas’s gray chest feathers, marveling at their softness, and massaged his fuller hips. Stolas, even in his sleep, chirped and arched his back slightly to lean into the touch. Blitz planted two firm kisses on Stolas’s middle, one for each of his sons.
As he buried his face into Stolas’s stomach, he was reminded of how much Stolas smelled of him now. Not just from sharing a house, bed, work environment, or general living space, but how Blitz smelled himself deep in Stolas. His actual DNA mingling with his owl’s. The idea was both comforting and arousing. And it made sense—of course, the bird was carrying his eggs—but the scent of their connecting genes was a drug that Blitz would never wean off of. It satisfied some dumb part of his lizard brain, rejoicing in claiming his bird completely as his own. Nothing was a more definitive act of partnership than having a baby with someone.
Blitz withdrew his face from Stolas’s abdomen and instead went back to kneading the bird’s soft, warm middle. He took note of how, even while carrying two eggs, his bird still looked less round than when he was with Reese. Probably because she had been a live birth.
But his boys were eggs! Hopefully, that would be easier on his bird. Last time, the pregnancy was nine damn months. Blitz had to watch his bird become more and more uncomfortable by the day, looking like he’d swallowed a fuckin’ watermelon, barely able to walk on his own from the constant aching pain in his back and the nausea.
The birth process was nothing short of grueling, lengthy, and excruciating.
Stolas was in labor for hours. The imp remembered Stolas gripping his hands so tightly that his talons made craters in Blitz’s skin that nearly bled. The bird buried his face in Blitz’s neck and clung to the imp like he was the only thing keeping Stolas in the mortal realm. All Blitz could do was whisper sweet nothings in his ear and cradle the owl through his immense pain. Stolas’s normally elegant voice strained and broke into screeches of pain. Blitz didn’t even know it was possible for his bird to muster such noises. The sound was forever etched in the crevices of his brain.
The doctors were fucking around the whole time. Zero sense of urgency, just acting like it was a routine ordeal as if Stolas wasn’t experiencing one of the most painful things imaginable. They didn’t even manage to give his bird an epidural until Stolas was nearly crowing. In that moment, he had felt fury like a living thing clawing from inside his chest.
He had to threaten the lives of the anesthesiologist and every other mentally challenged doctor in that godforsaken hospital just to get his owl any sort of relief from his interminable anguish. Blitz had never felt so helpless—having to leave the care of his suffering husband to incompetent, insensitive idiots.
Alas, it was all worth it. Stolas had birthed him a beautiful, healthy baby girl. And Stolas even agreed to let Blitz teleport those doctors to the human world in the middle of the Bay of Bengal to be sacrificed to the Sentinelese—torn limb from limb. Good. Even though it would never compare to having to push out a seven-pound bowling ball from his damn garden hose. Abhorrent pieces of goddamn shi—
Blitz’s crude thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sensation of Stolas’s hands moving up to interlace his fingers with Blitz’s and trace their eggs together.
“Mgh, darling,” Stolas mumbled, eyes closed with a soft smile on his face. Blitz knew he couldn’t respond immediately. If he did, he would sound pissed and unintentionally direct his anger at his husband. He needed time to recover even from thinking about that bullshit.
Stolas’s eyes snapped open at the lack of acknowledgment. “Are you alright?” Stolas asked, voice laced with worry, his features once peaceful now twisted with concern as he scanned the imp’s face. Shit.
“Mornin’, Stol’s. Sleep well?” Blitz whispered, attempting to subtly redirect the conversation while being the picture of nonchalance.
They also had to be quiet. Reese, even though only ten months old, already had a distinctive personality. One of those traits was her loud, easily pissed-off nature. Inherited from Blitz, of course. Her parents had barely gotten any sleep.
“Blitz. You didn’t answer me. Are you okay, my love? Don’t try to lie to me.” Blitz sighed. When Stolas pulled out that tone, he knew he had already lost.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Overall, I mean. I was just… thinking about the hospital… when, uh, Reese… I’m just really worried—”
Stolas tightened his hold on Blitz’s hands. “Dear, it will go just fine,” Stolas murmured gently.
“Remember, I’ll have to push out half the weight I did last time. This is my second birth, so it should naturally go smoother.” The bird brushed his fingers across his husband‘s knuckles. “And it’s happening here, at home, where we won’t have to worry about those dreadful people, and you can care for me however you see fit.” Stolas assured. And assuring it was, Blitz did feel better. Stolas’s voice was calm and steady. His bird always knew how to settle him. But he just couldn’t shake that anxiety quite yet. Instead, he breathed in and out.
“I know… I do. It’s just hard.” The imp looked down. “Last time was just so fuckin’ terrible. I never wanna see you in that kinda pain again. It’s just— I… I’m scared.” Blitz’s voice cracked.
“I know, I know, darling. Come here.”
Blitz sank down into Stolas’s arms, melting against his owl’s soft chest like putty. Stolas promptly gathered as much of his Blitz as possible, the imp curled into a fetal position to make himself easier to hold. Once Blitz was securely in his lap, Stolas began fussing over him—beak pecking at his horns, removing flakes of loose keratin from his beloved, preening him to the best of his ability without feathers. Something Stolas had done for years out of love, comfort, care, or just hygiene.
Concurrently, the bird massaged the tension out of Blitz’s back. He paid extra attention to his scars, rubbing his thumbs deeper in those areas to make sure Blitz felt it through his muted nerves. Stolas slowly pressed gentle, lingering kisses on his imp’s forehead, temples, chin, jawline, cheeks, and finally his mouth.
The imp wrapped his arms around Stolas’s neck and started to run his fingers through the tufts of Stolas’s head feathers, impossibly soft under his touch.
Stolas’s tongue ran over his lower lip and sides of his mouth to coax it open. Blitz accepted the invitation and let him. Blitz basked in the warmth that was the unconditional love Stolas so openly gave to him—the patience and understanding he was just starting to believe he might deserve. He wanted to crawl into Stolas’s rib cage and stay forever.
They stayed like that for quite a while. This kiss was unhurried and slow. Blitz melted against the warmth of Stolas’s body, his claws scratching Stolas’s scalp in just the way he knew the bird loved. Stolas’s talons traced lazy patterns along the muscles of the imp’s back. Blitz slowly withdrew his tongue from Stolas’s mouth, their lips lingering together for another brief second before finally parting. Blitz exhaled quietly against the bird’s beak, his forehead falling forward to rest against Stolas’s.
His tail wrapped firmly and instinctively around one of his bird’s thighs, rubbing the spade into the owl’s feathery flesh, and a low rumbling purr vibrated from his chest—meant just as much for the eggs nestled between them as it was for Stolas himself.
Blitz carefully unlaced his fingers from his husband‘s hair. Blitz smoothed down the feathers there, mussed from scratching, and brought his hands up firmly to rest on either side of the bird’s feathery face. Stolas’s pretty crimson eyes were open now, staring at the imp in front of him lovingly. Blitz’s cheeks tinted slightly darker.
“But really, how did you sleep, birdie?” Blitz asked, voice soft and steady, drunk on love.
“Mmm, quite nicely in fact,” Stolas answered, the sound rough and low. Stolas’s hands went to lightly hold Blitz’s wrists where they rested on his face.
“Babies give you any trouble?” the imp questioned.
“Nope. Most of their development will be spent outside of my body, and thus they cannot kick me, which is rather lovely,” Stolas answered.
Reese began crying—vehement and deafening, even through the wall separating their rooms. Fuck, they’ve been too loud. Before Stolas could say anything, Blitz did first.
“Don’t worry, Stols. I got it.”
And before he could argue, the imp was already getting up and walking down to the nursery right outside their room.
It was much more vacant now that Loona and Via had moved out. Blitz couldn’t say he didn’t miss the lovely presence of his daughters, but it was inevitable and much sweeter than bitter. His girls were out there finding themselves. He was so proud of them. It was also definitely necessary to provide more space for Reese and now the boys, Zionel and Zander.
He twisted the cold metal door handle and swung open the door. His baby’s cries were clearer and fully unmuffled now. Blitz walked over to her crib and picked her up. Immediately upon contact, she calmed her cries, turning into whines.
“Shh, Reese’s pieces, daddy’s gotcha. I’m here.”
He looked down at his daughter, and her face slowly untwisted. Blitz swore this baby was gonna have wrinkles by the time she’s three. The imp took a second to admire her.
She finally fully sprouted some soft scarlet feathers that went charcoal black at the ends. For a while, she just looked like a pink flesh-wrapped potato. She was adorable now. She had eyes that mirrored his—only two, with bright red irises and black pupils. On her head, black little horn nubs with thin white bands. She had Stolas’s fluffy, white heart-shaped face and beak.
He rocked her back and forth to comfort her, periodically pressing kisses to the crown of her head. He had never loved something more—not his sister, Fizz, Millie, Moxxie, or even his mother. He loved Stolas, Loona, and Via just about the same, but he adored them in different ways. The way he felt for the little creature in his arms was uniquely unfiltered. He couldn’t believe he had made her—someone so perfect.
As he held Reese, the small feathers that covered her brushed against his skin, a tickling sensation that made him smile. The warmth of her seeped through his arms and chest, easing the tension that coiled within him. He cherished each and every small breath that was exhaled against his neck.
He couldn’t say he wasn’t nervous to have sons. He had already had three children, but Loona and Via didn’t have a lick of his biology, and Reese… well, she was basically just a red bird with horns and his eyes. And she was a she—something that automatically made her, at least in a way, separate from him. From all the ultrasounds of Zion and Zander, even through the layers of Stolas’s skin, the muscles of his womb, and the thick calcium shell, their murky silhouettes clearly had impish tails and hooves, and he swore he saw the tiniest formation of horns on their skulls. They were also twins.
It was easier to love your children and hate yourself simultaneously as long as they were nothing like you, but these kids clearly would be like him. Blitz just prayed to all that is unholy that they would take after his husband personality-wise. He, of course, already felt so much love for his sons, but the feeling was tainted by worry. What if they’re like me? What if I fuck them up the same way my dad did to me?
The soft little snores and hoots he heard from the baby resting in his arms pulled him out of his thoughts. Blitz, oh so carefully, untangled his arms from his daughter and placed her back into her crib, slowly tiptoeing away.
Once he shut the door, his hand lingered on the knob, making sure his baby girl didn’t rise from her slumber once more. He listened for even the smallest whine, but she stayed content. With that, he quickly padded off to the kitchen.
The soft carpet of the hallway under his hooves transitioned to hardwood flooring as he made his way from the hallway to the kitchen.
As he opened the fridge, he thought of what Dr. Thorton told him: “I always tell my avian patients that calcium is key to form a strong shell, so make sure to prioritize dairy products in everyday meals. And instead of medication, try your best to get vitamins from natural sources, like consuming plenty of fruits and veggies. Frequent fluids, prioritize carbs, and fats.”
Keeping this in mind, the imp grabbed bread (because that did, in fact, belong in the fridge, thank you very much). He also opened one of the lower drawers to grab some cheese, ham, yogurt, spinach, and milk.
He put some wheat bread in the toaster and set the other items off to the side while he scooped some yogurt into a bowl, placing cut-up strawberries and granola into the yogurt bowl.
The toast sprang free. He laid both pieces out on a plate, got the ham, spinach, and cheese on them, and set the yogurt bowl right next to the sandwich. He retrieved the milk, poured it into a glass, and carried the food to the dining room table.
While he was wiping down the counters, he heard the creaking of the floors and the scratch of a chair being drawn back.
“Oh, thank you, my darling. This looks so lovely,” Stolas chirped.
“No problem, Stol’s. Wanna make sure you and the eggies are healthy. Make sure you drink all your milk; I heard that pregnant people can get 1.6% of their bone mass yoinked by their babies. Greedy fuckers,” Blitz remarked.
Stolas giggled and made a show of chugging the whole glass while making direct eye contact with the imp.
“Good boy.” Blitz replied in a sultry tone. Stolas choked a bit, and it was Blitz’s turn to giggle.
“But seriously though, it’s all of it, birdie. I don’t want our kids to come out looking like little dolphin fetuses.” He delighted in the sounds of his bird’s crunches and bites. Stolas’s clear nourishment and serenity sent a pulse of calm through him.
While Stolas ate, he went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and showered to prepare himself for the ultrasound appointment they would have later. He grabbed a protein bar and an apple to snack on.
These days he was really valuing his husband‘s nutrition over his own. Stolas had expressed some discomfort over it, saying that no matter, he was hated being valued over Blitz. Thankfully, the imp had managed to convince him that the shortcomings and his own diet would be resolved when the bird's pregnancy was over. Stolas had agreed as long as he could be the same kind of asshole about what Blitz ate for the following months after. Blitz had reluctantly agreed. Satan, the sacrifices he makes to keep his bird happy.
By the time he got back, Stolas had already finished his food, put his plate in the dishwasher, and was now lying on the couch reading one of his novels. Blitz saw the shine of his golden engagement ring on his hand, and his heart did a little flip.
In times like this where he saw Stolas wearing a ring on his finger that matched his own, or when he lie awake at night, looking at his pretty heart shaped face, or when he had held Stolas’s hand as a doctor told them they were having twins, he felt a sort of disbelief. Like one day he would wake up and this would all be a dream. And he would go back to living in the same hollowed out flesh suit that was left when his mother died.
But the feeling was almost always immediately dispelled. Proved wrong time and time again by the undeniable reality of Stolas beside him. His warm hand in his. The beautiful look on the bird's face that occurred anytime they made eye contact. His features encapsulated in unadulterated adoration. The one made specially for him. Not for the stars and not even for their kids.
The imp crawled onto the couch with his husband, shoving his face firmly down into his chest feathers. They smelled of lavender, oatmeal, and himself. The imp wrapped his tail around both of them to keep them firmly locked in place at the upper rib cage. Blitz wanted to be mindful of the bump. Blitz rested his hands over Stolas’s hips and squeezed.
The bird threw his book onto another cushion, slotted his talons between the imp’s spines, crammed his face between Blitz’s horns, and encased Blitz’s legs with his own. The owl began to sing a low lullaby for his imp, and a low, encouraging purr lodged in Blitz’s chest.
As time went on, they forgot where they began and the other ended. Their souls and bodies fully devoured one another, their physical forms mixed and tangled, their heartbeats and breaths synchronized, every action they took fueled by their undying desire to exist for the other, to endlessly meet each other’s expectations, and appeal to the other man’s insatiable craving.
They never wanted to be without one another ever again; they wanted to live in the hollow of the other demon’s chest. And thus, they became a being made of their love and devotion for one another—and most importantly, their beautiful children placed at the center of it.