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Val knew something was off from the moment he entered the studio. For one thing, it was almost as if he hadn't—the barely hushed mutters didn't stop, no eyes turned his way—no, it was like he didn't fucking exist, and his mood immediately soured with a jolt of hot irritation.
Instead, every single sinner on set was clustered in the center of the room around—was that fucking Travis? Expressions varied from confused curiosity, to suspicion, to outright disgust, and Val knew for a fact that the script they were filming today wasn't that interesting (and nor was Travis, for that matter).
Then the crying started.
And not the kind of crying he was used to hearing, either; it wasn’t someone sobbing in overwhelmed ecstasy, or weeping in choked gasps as they begged for mercy that they didn’t deserve, no, it was—
A… baby?
“What,” Val said softly as he approached, quiet words edged with steel, “the fuck is going on?”
In the split-second that followed there was only deathly silence as all eyes at last shot to him, the quiet broken by a piercing, forlorn wail that had Val’s skin prickling and ruff fluffing out involuntarily around his face and shoulders. It was hardly as though hellborn children were rare, but they sure as shit had no business being here and throwing off his entire fucking shoot by distracting all his—
Then Travis turned. Stiff-shouldered and obviously reluctant because oh, he knew Val was about to lose his shit—
In retrospect, it should have been obvious something else was up. Imp babies just weren’t that interesting, and even Travis wasn’t dumb enough to keep one around on set rather than immediately shunting it off elsewhere. Then there was the silence, the staring, all gazes in the room flicking back and forth between the screaming, wriggling blob in Travis’s arms and Val, the air thick with anticipation.
Because that wasn’t a fucking imp.
“You,” Val hissed quietly, viciously, jabbing a finger in Travis’s direction, “stay.” He strode forward quickly because he needed to see, no way, there was no way— “Everyone else get the fuck out!” Val was hardly even aware of them scattering around him as he stared down at the squirming, shrieking little thing that seemed intent on flinging itself to the floor, which could only end badly because its head was—
Oh, he was going to fucking kill Vox.
“Give it to me,” he snapped, and Travis thrust it up at him with such relieved alacrity he looked ready to bolt at any second were it not for the vice-like grip one of Val’s hands had on his upper arm.
Shit, it was so fucking tiny, chubby little body in an obnoxious grey VoxTek onesie and dumb striped scarf, wiggling to immediately settle in against Val's chest. It clumsily knocked the edge of its dumb little screen into him as it twisted to try and get a better view, expression screwed up in confused distress. Because it was trying to stare up at him now, its crying having stopped abruptly with the shock of its new position, no doubt. Now, the silence was broken only by the occasional choked, wet hiccup as its little digital lip trembled in a manner that he’d certainly never seen from Vox.
Because there was no way that bastard didn’t have anything to do with this; its eyes were bigger and rounder, sure, taking up most of its face and blinking up at him wetly in a way that made his chest clench. But it couldn’t be a coincidence: it had Vox’s antennae, too, though they were ridiculously long with heart motifs and what the actual fuck had Vox been thinking—
“Where was it,” he demanded flatly, not even looking up as Travis's arm twitched under his grip. The baby’s shiny digital tears were pooling at the edges of its screen as they slid down, and Val used his last remaining free hand to gently wipe his thumb over them curiously. It came away wet which shouldn’t really have been be a surprise, as on the occasions Val managed to force tears out of Vox the result was much the same. Shit, why would he—
“It was—it was in the vents,” Travis was stammering too quickly, in that annoying fucking way he always did when he thought Val was going to snap. “We—we heard something crying and saw the light from the grating, and I was gonna just get it out of here but then—” he broke off like he couldn’t bring himself to say it, but Val didn’t need to hear any more.
But then we saw its face. Its fucking branded outfit. Its—
“I’ll deal with it,” Val said, with such deathly calm that when he at last dropped Travis’s arm and glanced back to his face he looked terrified enough that he might piss himself. Good. “Now get everyone back on set and get started without me. Not a single fucking word of this to anyone. Get me?” Travis visibly swallowed, eyes wide as he nodded vehemently when words seemed to fail him. When Val leant down he froze, visibly trembling as Val hissed, “or you’ll be starring in your own personal snuff film.”
And then Val was gone, sweeping from the studio without looking back because there weren't many possibilities here, and almost all of them ended with Vox’s stupid screen smashed in.
Theory one: Vox had been fucking around behind his back to have a child with someone else which—well, aside from that fact that even the thought of it made his blood boil, and Vox had to know Val would never fucking forgive him—was also impossible. Even Vox, despite his massive yet fragile ego, wasn't capable of breaking the fundamental laws of Hell like that.
There was a soft burble in his arms and Val’s steps briefly faltered as he glanced down to see the baby’s eyes drifting shut, pink drool seeping down its flat chin to dribble out over the bottom edge of its pale screen. This was—a nightmare. It had to be. Or—
Theory two: it actually had nothing to do with Vox at all. Maybe one of his batshit crazy science department guys had finally lost it and somehow managed to avoid Vox’s cameras to secretly create it for—for revenge, or blackmail, or—no. Would they really be stupid enough to think Vox would give a shit? Vox didn’t really revel in violence and, sure, killing babies wasn’t exactly their thing, but as collateral damage? The Vox that Val knew would just shrug it off and come out with some insincere platitude that would make a touching soundbite.
At least Val knew exactly where Vox was right now, because he’d been going on about the same fucking meeting all week. Was it important? Yeah, probably, but Val rather considered having Vox’s freaky little mini-me dumped on his doorstep with zero warning to take priority. There was no way Vel could know, either, because she'd have thrown an absolute shitfit and told Val immediately.
The baby had lifted one of its tiny hands to shove a thumb in its mouth, sucking gently, and fuck—did it need to eat? How long had it been crawling around in the fucking vent system? Wasn’t Vox supposed to have eyes everywhere? Val didn’t even—well, it was enough to say he had mixed feelings on children, with long buried resentment and irritation simultaneously warring with protectiveness in a way that made nausea clench his gut.
Because theory three: this was all because of Vox’s huge fucking ego (as so many things around here tended to be) and simply a desire to prove that he could. Given that they were functionally immortal he didn’t exactly need an heir, but there had always been some things that Vox’s old-fashioned fifties ass had never been able to shake, and maybe this was one of them. He’d always seemed to have a grudging respect for that aspect of Carmilla’s branding, after all.
But that still didn’t explain why it’d been crawling around in the tower’s ventilation system.
One of the baby’s other hands was now fisted in the front of his shirt, gripping like he never wanted to let go. It was a ugly little thing really, with its buggy eyes now closed in sleep and a warm, pudgy little body; he absently scritched it on the stomach as he walked just to see it squirm, ticklish. Definitely not a robot.
But for all that it was indisputably an echo of Vox, Val had also been trying very hard not to think about the fact that it seemed to have a second tiny set of arms, just beneath the first. Just like—
Val shook his head, holding the baby closer as he approached the wide doors to the conference room, eyes narrowed and mouth twisting into a snarl as he shoved his way in with a dramatic bang as the doors were flung open.
In that moment several things happened all at once: every single head and eye within the room swivelled to stare at him as muttered, rising whispers broke out; the baby immediately startled and its expression crumpled, lower lip trembling for a split second before the distraught wailing began (and, fine, maybe Val felt a twinge of regret about that); Vox stood frozen at the head of the table at the far end of the room staring down at them over glasses of water and papers filled with pie charts and shit that Val would never understand, and had no desire to.
What he wanted to understand was that look on Vox’s face—eyes wide and screen dark, expression flickering in and out of glitches that flashed by too fast to make out, hands fisted by his sides. The muttering was getting louder, and now a few brave souls were glancing back and forth between the two of them, trying to piece together what was happening. Not that Val knew—that was why he was here, after all. Because he knew how Vox would react and, right on cue—
“That’s enough,” Vox said loudly, and there he was, with that smooth and mesmerising tone that had all faces in the room turning to focus on him and only him, already lost to the gentle pulsing of his eye, his influence insidious and inescapable. “You saw nothing. You’ll leave this room and go back to your regular day. This meeting never happened; it was always scheduled for tomorrow. Get out.”
As they filed out past him Val bounced the baby gently in his arms in an attempt to soften its cries—and somehow it actually fucking worked, and by the time they were alone and the doors had shut behind them the little freak was actually giggling, beaming up at him as he settled it back within his arms and walked the length of the room to shove past Vox and sit heavily in his wide padded chair at the head of the table.
“Val—” Vox began, and Val could already hear the irritating placatory condescension in his tone—in that one word—and swiveled the chair so that Vox was standing between his stretched out legs and Val could stare up at him directly.
“If you tell me to calm down,” Val said through gritted teeth, smile sharp and pointed, “you’re going to be sucking your own dick for the next decade.” Never mind the fact that it might not be strictly true, but if it wasn’t Val doing it then it might as well be nobody. And Vox knew it, too. He shut his mouth. Val couldn’t quite read the expression on his face as his gaze flicked down to linger on the baby in Val’s arms. Vox’s mouth was a flat line, but his eyes were— “So,” Val began sweetly, allowing the baby to grab at one of his fingers and grip it in its chubby fist. One of Vox’s eyes visibly twitched. “I’d like an explanation.”
“How did you get that?” Vox asked warily, avoiding the question because of course he fucking did. “It’s not—”
“It crawled to my studio through the damn ventilation shafts,” Val interrupted. “Fucking up my day, fucking up your day, and now here we are. Give. Me. An explanation.”
Vox swallowed, throat bobbing as he reached up to tug on his collar and give a fake little laugh. It was just habit, as there was no way he still thought any of his little acts fooled Val. “Look, Val,” he began haltingly, and half turned as if to pace before realising he was still trapped within the long lines of Val’s legs. “It was just a little experiment.”
“An experiment,” Val repeated flatly, glancing back down to watch the way the baby was still tugging intently on his hand like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. To him—was it a him? He supposed it didn't matter, really—it probably was. “You made a baby,” he continued, testing the words in his mouth, “as an experiment.”
Vox shifted uncomfortably, smile flickering on his screen before glitching and dropping. “The project’s been terminated, Val, don’t worry about it—”
“That’s funny,” Val gave a short, incredulous laugh as he glanced between Vox and the baby still giggling in his arms, “because it looks pretty fucking alive to me!”
“It’s supposed to be contained in the underground facilities,” Vox snapped, and took a deep breath before pressing two fingers to the side of his screen, eyes briefly closing as though Val were being the unreasonable one. “It didn’t meet the parameters, so it’s being monitored and kept for observation.”
Abruptly, hearing Vox call the baby ‘it’ gave Val the vindictive desire to never do so again; he’d never claimed not to be petty. “What parameters?” he hissed, “he’s a fucking baby!”
“Appearance,” Vox said, and yeah, all right, he was a weird looking little fucker, but when Vox said it Val somehow found himself offended on the baby’s behalf. “Intelligence is below spec,” he added distastefully, and then, “and growth seems erratic and uncertain.”
Val shot him a smirk as the baby began to hiccup again, and absently shifted him to rest against his shoulder as he began to pat the baby’s back gently. Vox’s face did something strange—but then, this whole situation was fucking weird. “Well,” Val said cheerily, “he’s your child, no? You get out what you put in, I guess.”
There was an odd pause as Vox glanced away.
“About that,” he said, and then fell silent again.
The baby’s secondary arms were grasping at the front of Val’s shirt, and his strange little heart shaped antennae were bouncing up and down as he hiccupped against Val’s shoulder. Like this, he was finally able to see that what he’d thought had been an ugly scarf was actually— “You didn’t,” he said blankly, mostly because he didn’t see how it was fucking possible.
“I… did.” Vox didn’t seem to want to look at them, though Val allowed him to step aside to lean against the edge of the table, weight sagging against it.
He’d always known Vox was fucked in the head and morals—hey, it was partly why they worked so well—but even for Vox this was next level. Val was kind of impressed, honestly, and almost a little charmed against his will. How would he even have—
“Vox,” he said suddenly, and saw Vox’s shoulders visibly tense, “did you steal my fucking cum?”
There was a flinch and then—“It’s hardly stealing when you never pass up an opportunity to fuck it into every hole you can!”
Val gave a delighted little laugh and gave the baby’s back a final pat. “I didn’t know you had it in you, amorcito.”
Although to be fair, he was sure they both knew that Val would’ve killed him if he’d dared to make this little freakshow with anyone else. It was even a little romantic, really, if you thought about it.
“Really?” Vox stared at him incredulously, “that’s what you’re focusing on?” Ugh, fine, priorities. Val clicked his tongue and brought the baby back down to cradle against his chest once more, and smiled softly as he settled in immediately with a happy burble. “It really likes you,” Vox said suddenly, and that strange expression on his face was back. Val ignored him, instead bringing up a finger to tickle the lower edge of the baby’s screen.
“Of course he does,” Val cooed, “apparently I’m his Mami, aren’t I?”
“Oh my god,” Vox mumbled, and immediately started shaking his head. “No, look, let’s just return it, we can check on it again in a few years—maybe it’ll have improved! Just—”
“Wait,” Val said suddenly, because this was—yeah, it was Vox’s fucked up little science project, and sure, no sinner had gotten pregnant in the process, but even so—this baby was alive. It was warm and moving and giggling under his touch. “Wait… does he have a soul? Where the fuck did it come from?”
Vox’s hand returned to rub at his temple, and then he fucking shrugged. “Yeah, that’s—uh, that’s one of the things we’re investigating.”
What the fuck. Val stared down at the baby’s dumb little face, his huge eyes blinking up at him owlishly and expression brightening again as he beamed, another pink trail of drool trickling down as he burbled nonsense. “Wow, Papi,” Val said brightly, “you really went and made us a little abomination all of our own!”
“You—” Vox’s hand slid down his face as he eyed Val sideways, squinting at him through his fingers with barely concealed disgust, “you can’t be wanting to keep it, Val. Look at it, it’s a mistake.”
Val looked. The baby was staring up at him faintly cross-eyed with his tongue sticking out, all four little fists waving frantically until Val relented and brought a hand back up for him to grab on to and play with. God, he looked so fucking stupid. Val kind of loved him already. He didn’t really want a baby, in the sense that he was absolutely never doing all that shit again—but hey, that’s what Kitty was for. “It’s a miracle,” Val corrected, because it was literally fucking true! Maybe the baby had even stolen a soul from heaven. “Yours and mine, huh?” Val murmured contemplatively, and Vox grunted in acknowledgement. “He needs a name.”
“When you get tired of playing house, it’s going straight back,” Vox said in lieu of a real reply, and Val knew he’d won, smiling as he hooked a foot around Vox’s ankle and rubbed the pointed tip of his boot up under the hem of his trouser leg.
“Whatever you say, Papi,” Val emphasised again, just to watch Vox flinch and shoot him an exasperated glance, but—it was there again, that odd expression as Vox watched them that Val hadn’t been able to quite place until now. It was… Vox liked seeing him like this—though it was conflicted, that was for sure, and something in Val’s chest clenched. Vox still hadn't told him why he'd even done all this in the first place.
So he shoved it down deep and leered instead, getting to his feet to tower over Vox and force him back against the table. “Don’t get jealous now, Voxy, Mami will have time for you later,” he purred, and Vox attempted to jerk back with glitching cheeks as he pulled a face.
“It’s right fucking there, Val, have some restraint, Jesus Christ.”
Val laughed and leant in to press a kiss to Vox’s reluctantly responsive mouth before drawing back and giving the baby a gentle bounce. “Fine,” he said breezily, “if Papi won’t help name him, I know who will.”
"Val—"
“C’mon, baby, let’s go visit Aunty Vel!”
The dawning look of dread and horror on Vox’s face was one Val would remember fondly for a long, long time.