A little something inspired by a fan comic featuring Stolas and Blitz dancing the waltz. I just love this one and couldn't resist doing a little Stolitz.

The mirrored walls of the expansive ballroom glimmered faintly under the golden glow of its chandeliers. Outside, the winter winds howled, making the room feel even more like a sanctuary of light and warmth. Blitz, however, didn't seem to notice any of that. "Left foot, *dammit*, left foot!" Blitz muttered to himself as his boots scraped clumsily against the polished floor.

He stood alone at the center of the room, one hand lifted as though holding an invisible partner, the other planted stiffly on his waist. "It's just a stupid waltz. Stupid steps, stupid swirls... why the hell is this harder than wrangling a hellhound?"

The echo of his frustrated words bounced back at him as if mocking his every misstep. It had been years since he had to dance the waltz, not since that day. Their wedding. Blitz grumbled under his breath. Of course, Stolas wanted to hold a winter ball. Fancy feathered bastard. Blitz paused, glaring at his reflection with narrowed crimson eyes. He tried again, mumbling the count under his breath. "One, two, three... one, two—SHIT!"

This time, he nearly tripped over his own feet, catching himself just in time to avoid hitting the floor face-first. As he straightened up with a huff, a deep, familiar voice interrupted his grumbling. "I do hope the floor didn't offend you, darling."

Blitz whirled around, ears twitching, to see Stolas leaning casually against the doorway. He was dressed immaculately as always, his crimson eyes gleaming with playful amusement. "How long have you been watching me?" Blitz snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at his husband.

Stolas stifled a chuckle behind his gloved hand. "Long enough to know you're treating the waltz like a wrestling match."

Blitz groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, excuse me for not being the dancing queen here, *your majesty*."

Stolas stepped into the room, his long coat trailing elegantly behind him. "Would you allow me to assist you, then? I *did* promise you a dance at the ball, and it simply won't do to have my darling husband tripping over his own feet."

Blitz scowled but didn't protest when Stolas extended his hand. Reluctantly, Blitz placed his own calloused hand in Stolas' delicate, gloved one. "Don't make this weird, birdbrain," Blitz muttered, though the pink dusting his cheeks betrayed him.

Stolas only smiled, guiding Blitz into position. "Now, remember... it's a conversation, not a battle," Stolas said softly, positioning Blitz's other hand on his shoulder before resting his own on Blitz's waist. "The steps are simple. You don't have to fight them... just follow me."

Blitz let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. Lead the way, Mr. Fancy Talons."

Stolas chuckled, and then they began. At first, Blitz was stiff, his steps mechanical and uncoordinated as he focused far too hard on every little motion. But Stolas' patience was endless. With every swirl and step, the prince gently guided Blitz, correcting him without a word, just subtle nudges and his calming presence. "Breathe, Blitz," Stolas murmured.

"I am breathing, featherbutt," Blitz shot back, though the tension in his shoulders finally began to ease.

Slowly, something shifted. Blitz's steps became smoother, his movements less rigid. Stolas twirled him with effortless grace, and for the first time in the evening, Blitz stopped thinking. He simply danced. Stolas led them into a turn, the two of them moving across the room as if in their own private world. Stolas' coat flared with every step, and Blitz found himself caught between frustration and awe as they glided together. The prince moved as though he were born for this and perhaps he was. But now, he was sharing that ease with Blitz. The movements became more intricate.

Stolas' long frame guided Blitz into a deep, sweeping turn, where Blitz felt himself spin almost weightlessly before Stolas pulled him close again. The prince's hand on Blitz's waist was steady and warm, grounding him even as the dance grew faster. Blitz's boots, once scraping and stumbling, now moved in perfect time. Stolas dipped him in a graceful arc, their eyes locking as Blitz's breath hitched slightly. "I thought you were leading me gently!" Blitz barked, though he didn't look particularly angry, more flustered than anything else.

Stolas chuckled, his voice a low hum of delight. "Where's the fun in that? You're doing marvelously, my love."

Blitz opened his mouth to retort, but Stolas spun him again, the motion smooth and deliberate. Their pace quickened as the waltz reached its crescendo, the echoes of their steps mingling with the faint whistle of the wind outside. The chandelier light reflected in Stolas' crimson eyes, making them seem deeper, softer, and endlessly focused on Blitz. Blitz didn't realize he was smiling until he caught sight of their reflection in the mirror. He, the rough, chaotic imp, moving effortlessly beside the prince of Hell. It was ridiculous, really—but it also felt *right.*

The final motion came suddenly. Stolas spun Blitz one last time and then dipped him again, more dramatically this time. Blitz let out an indignant yelp, his tail bristling in protest.

"STOLAS!"

Stolas grinned, holding him in place with ease. "I had to finish with flair, darling."

"You're a menace!" Blitz barked, though his grip on Stolas' shoulder didn't loosen.

"And yet," Stolas said softly, pulling Blitz upright once more, "you followed beautifully."

They stood close, their breaths mingling in the quiet that followed. Stolas still held him, his hand lingering gently at Blitz's waist, and for a moment, Blitz allowed himself to rest his forehead against Stolas' chest. "Yeah, well... don't get used to it, birdbrain," Blitz mumbled.

Stolas pressed a soft kiss to Blitz's hair. "Too late, darling. Far too late."

Outside, the winter wind howled, but inside for just a little while everything was still.