Chapter Text
Blitzø had fallen into a routine. He liked routines. He liked knowing what to expect out of his day. He would wake up to Stolas calling to wish him a good morning, and he would put his side on mute so he could listen to his boyfriend ramble (using the bluetooth earbuds Loona had chucked at him one day because she "didn’t need to hear their domestic sh*t every f*cking morning") while he pissed and brushed his teeth and got dressed.
When they were done, he’d hang up with a "see you later, babe"—or sometimes "leggy bitch" or "tall f*cker" but usually "babe,"—and head out the door. Loona was never ready when he wanted to leave, which had caused arguments until he finally just started leaving without her and trusted her to get herself to work on time. She always did, and without asking for bus fare, so Blitzø was okay with it.
He liked to leave early so he could stop at his coffee shop and savor his one caffeinated iced ambrosia of the f*cking gods that he was allowed each day. Always the same shop at the same time, with the same order—unless of course there was a seasonal flavor or a new gimmick or a promotional cup. Which there often was. But he liked to think he had a "usual" order. Even if he really didn’t.
Then he’d pick up M&M, head to the office, trudge through boring work sh*t, exchange increasingly horny texts with Stolas until quitting time, drop M&M back home, have takeout dinner with Loona or fancier takeout dinner with Stolas, f*ck Stolas two or three times (or just one time if they were tired, or no times and just watch soap operas and make out if they were really tired) until they went back to their own apartments and called each other to say good night. It was mostly the same every day.
Except today.
Today his coffee shop was closed. Something about a power outage; they’d be open in a couple hours, but that was too late for Blitzø. That was fine. That was okay. He could handle that. He could. He’d just go to a different shop.
Except the different shop had a different menu and different staff who weren’t used to seeing a pregnant man every morning, which meant Blitzø had to stand for f*cking ever staring at the boards over the counter, barely able to read the fancy-ass chalk writing, feeling the stares drilling into him.
But even that he could handle, because when he finally looked to make his order, nobody was staring at him and nobody commented as they gave him his iced latte that was called horchata but wasn’t, but was still pretty good anyway. And it wasn’t his coffee shop but they still had an overstuffed chair in the corner where he could sit and sip his drink.
All that was fine, manageable. What wasn’t fine was when he began to make his way over to the chair in the corner and a smarmy voice from a nearby table stopped him.
"Hey! I know you!" A lanky man in a leather jacket and stupid hat stood up and stepped in his way.
Blitzø forced a grin. "Heyyyyy, Chaz…"
"Hey, you remembered my name, uh…" He snapped his fingers a couple times. "Trix."
"Blitzø."
"Blitzø!" The guy didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed at forgetting his name. "Yeeeah, look at you, all preggers, huh?" His grin was blinding.
"Christ on a stick, and I thought I was rude," Blitzø muttered. He moved to sidestep Chaz, but the taller man shifted into his way again.
"So, uhhh, your baby daddy still in the picture?"
"Yeah, actually." The words were out of Blitzø’s mouth before he remembered that Stolas was not, in fact, the other parent. Whatever, it didn’t matter. Chaz didn’t need to know about… the f*ck was his name? Dennis. Blitzø allowed himself a bit of smug pride that he remembered his hookup’s name. Oh, sh*t, Chaz was still talking.
"—actually dig pregger chicks," he was saying.
Blitzø shot a dark glare up at him.
"Uh, and pregger dudes too, ya know?" The idiot clenched his fist in a private celebration of his f*cking bare minimum lip service to tolerance. "Got that whole… sexy forbidden thang going on, right? So how ‘bout it, sexay? You wanna ride the Chaz train to pound town again?" The walking red flag tapped the edges of his hands on his pelvis, framing his junk.
"f*ck off," Blitzø growled. "You miss the part where I said I’ve got a boyfriend?" He turned to leave. No way was he going to be able to enjoy his coffee with this asshole here.
Chaz sidled around him, stepping in his way again, leering down at him. "I don’t see no rang on that thang," he twanged. "Can’t be that serious. Prolly just f*ckin’ ya for the novelty, ya know ya know?" He waggled his eyebrows. "Not every day you can do the do to a boy with a baby bump, amirite?"
"That’s… that’s not…" Blitzø muttered.
"Does he do double duty on you? I remember you were ca-raaazy for me strappin’ up and taking you both ways at once." Chaz tried to do the "sex" hand gesture but with two fingers and two holes.
"Listen, dick-head," Blitzø started, then snorted, " dicks-head, I only bottomed for you because I thought you had to have something going on for Moxx and Mils to tolerate your sh*tty attitude, but I was so, SO wrong. Now get out of my f*cking way."
"Excuse me, ma’am, is this guy bothering you?"
Blitzø looked past Chaz at the coffee shop employee who had approached, timidly clutching their apron.
"Oh, f*cking now you step in? f*ck off, all of you!" He threw up his middle finger and waved it around at the whole shop. Served him right for trying a new place. "I don’t need you or your sh*tty-ass, transphobic, f*ckin’ Chaz-tolerating sorry excuse for coffee!" He spiked his still mostly full cup to the floor, splashing the drink all over his boots, then pushed past the both of them, sending Chaz windmilling and crashing into the table.
"What the hell?" the worker protested. Blitzø flipped them off again as he stormed towards the door.
"Hey, can I at least have my bones jacket back, man? That was limited edition!" Chaz called after him.
"f*ck off!" Blitzø didn’t even look back as he pushed the door open. "You ignore a safe word, you get your sh*t stolen; deal with it!"
Blitzø was still seething by the time he picked up Moxxie and Millie and they rode to the office in a tense silence. He pulled up to the building but didn't pull around to park.
"Go in, get started," Blitzø said tersely. "I'll be back."
"Sir, where are you–"
Blitzø interrupted Moxxie. "Home. Clean my f*cking boots and get a f*cking coffee."
"Blitzø…Did somethin' happen?" Millie asked tentatively.
" No, Mils." Blitzø's voice dripped sarcasm. "Just a normal f*cking Tuesday, everything's perfect. Get the f*ck out of the van."
The couple slid the door open and clambered out, casting him worried glances. Blitzø snarled to himself and clenched his hands around the steering wheel. He peeled away as soon as they closed the door and stepped back.
Back home, he kicked off his boots, clinging to the wall so he didn't fall over and cursing under his breath until he managed to get them off. He threw them into the bathtub and ran water over them, bending over for a few seconds at a time to scrub at them with a cloth before needing to straighten up to breathe. By the time he finished, he was winded and muttering profanities to himself.
He left the boots in the tub to drip dry and stalked back to the kitchen to start coffee. He growled as he scooped the grounds into the filter. Why the f*ck was he so pissed? Sure, Chaz was an asshole, but he wasn't worth this much rage. What had he said to get under Blitzø' skin so much?
He jumped as a gentle knock sounded at the front door before it opened.
"Blitzø? Are you all right?"
Stolas. f*cking great. Blitzø did not want to see Stolas right now.
"What the hell are you doing here, Stolas?" he bit off. "Shouldn't you be at work?"
"Moxxie texted me,” Stolas said, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him. “He thought you might need me.”
“Yeah? Well, I don't.” Blitzø poured the water into the coffee machine and slammed the little plastic door shut.
“What has you so agitated, dear?” Stolas moved into the kitchen. Blitzø didn’t look at him.
“My coffee place was closed," he snapped. "So I didn't get my coffee.”
“Oh.” Stolas paused. “Could you not go to another place?”
“Tried that.” Blitzø jerked the cupboard open and snatched a mug off the shelf. “It was sh*t.”
“I see.” Stolas drew in a breath. “Blitzø…don't you think this reaction might be a little bit—“
Blitzø whirled to face him. “Don't you f*cking dare say unreasonable!”
“—out of proportion?” Stolas finished.
Blitzø lifted the mug in his hand, gesturing as he opened his mouth to reply, only for the shout to die on his tongue as Stolas flinched, a full body jerk away from him, ducking his head and half-raising a hand, bracing himself.
Blitzø lowered the cup, his mouth falling open. "What the f*ck was that, Stolas?"
Stolas turned wide eyes on him. "I-I…I don't–"
"Did you think I was gonna throw this at you?" Blitzø stared at him in horror. "Is that the kind of guy you think I am!?" He really was a piece of sh*t, wasn't he, if he'd given Stolas that kind of impression.
"No!" Stolas protested, even as he took a step backwards. "No, I swear it! I would never think that of you, never!" But he was still f*cking backing away. "It-it was only a reflex! An automatic response, I promise!"
A cold pit started forming in Blitzø's stomach. "Why the f*ck would you have that as an automatic response?" he rasped. "Stolas?"
The taller man trembled as he backed up to the fridge and slid down to the floor, shaking his head. He wrapped his arms around his knees, hunching his head down between his shoulders.
Making himself small.
f*ck.
Blitzø started towards him but Stolas’ eyes widened. He froze and tracked Stolas’ gaze to the coffee cup still in his hand.
Carefully, he reached back and set the mug on the counter. Fury still coursed through him. That f*cking bitch; this had to be her fault. Blitzø gritted his teeth, seething.
“You’re so angry,” Stolas whispered pitifully.
”I’m not—“ Blitzø’s voice shook with rage. He stopped and took a slow breath. He had to get control of himself. “I’m not angry at you. Not at you, babe.” He inched towards Stolas. Slowly. Like approaching a skittish horse. Carefully, no sudden moves. Keep your hands where he can see them.
Blitzø eased himself down to the floor to sit cross-legged in front of Stolas, close but not touching.
“Tell me the truth, Stols,” he said evenly. “Did Stella throw things at you?”
Stolas nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. “Dishes mostly,” he replied, barely audible. “Sometimes my plants.”
Blitzø dug his fingers into his thigh. He was going to break that whor*’s arms and legs. He was going to rip out her f*cking hair.
“Did she ever…” He didn’t want to hear it but he had to know. “Did she ever hit you with her hands?”
Stolas lifted a hand to his cheek, as if remembering a strike. “Yes.”
He was going strangle her, tear her limb from f*cking limb.
”When I embarrassed her,” Stolas continued. “Or talked too much. Or too loudly. Or was in her way.”
Blitzø shook his head. He felt sick.
”No, babe,” he said. “No. Those aren’t reasons. Those are excuses. She didn’t hit you because of anything you did. She hit you because she’s an evil, irredeemable bitch and she wanted to hurt you. It’s nothing you did; it’s because of who she is.”
”I’m sorry,” Stolas whispered.
Blitzø didn’t know what exactly he was trying to apologize for. Not that it mattered; Stolas had done nothing to be sorry for, but Blitzø knew he wasn't going to believe that right now. So instead, he slowly raised his arms. “Can I touch you?”
Stolas nodded and pitched forward, falling against his chest. Blitzø threw a hand backwards to catch himself on the floor, wrapping his other arm around Stolas’ shoulders.
Blitzø pressed his face into the feathery softness of Stolas’ hair. “No matter what you do, or how angry I get,” he whispered. “I promise, you’re always safe with me. I’ll keep you safe.”
Blitzø clutched his boyfriend to his chest as Stolas began to sob.
