Chapter Text
“You’re inspiring. Really!”
The atmosphere of the bar was comfortable, gentle music emanating from Alastor’s staff, the two sitting at the counter with drinks. It was a place that the pair frequented after long days dealing with insolent Sinners. They had just returned from a successful errand, meaning that Alastor would be in higher spirits than usual.
Vox grinned, leaning forward just slightly, closer to the man who made his jaded heart feel warm. He’d felt this boyish giddiness bubbling through his chest as of late, sharpening to startling clarity when around Alastor, the swirling heat giving him butterflies. That deer demon had carved out a sizable piece of real estate in Vox’s head and he didn’t even mind.
Alastor lifted the glass of alcohol to his lips, lidded eyes following Vox in a casual manner.
“And when you think about it, modern technology actually started with radio!” He continued, gesturing with a hand. The proposition he’d been rehearsing privately for weeks bounced around in his head.
The Radio Demon hummed, resting his cheek on a hand and letting his head tip towards Vox. His finger raised to slip around the rim of his glass in a circle.
Vox chuckled a little, folding in on himself as his hand rested on the back of his head in a bashful way. Oh how Alastor managed to reduce him to just a flustered man and not the murderer that he was. “Am I boring you with my compliments?”
“Perhaps.” A playful glint in Alastor’s eyes gleamed. He definitely knew that Vox had a reason for buttering him up like this, and he was eager to get him to spit it out.
“I’ll just get to the point.” Vox slid to the very edge of his chair at the bar, hands folded on his lap as he nearly brushed Alastor’s shoulder with his chest. His heart thundered with the proximity and the way he wanted the conversation to go–the way he needed it to go. If Alastor refused… “We’ve been close for a few years now, right? I mean, people know us. People love us.”
Alastor’s eyes flicked down as Vox placed his hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t say anything or even tense away from it like usual, just watching with a soft smile.
“And with new overlords popping up every day–and before you hit me with the well, you're pretty new yourself,” Vox wiggled his shoulders as his screen and voice changed to mimic Alastor’s, “–I know, okay, but I’m much more forward thinking, so it’s in your best interest to hear me out.”
A newer seed of confidence rooted itself in his heart as he watched Alastor chuckle–genuinely chuckle–at his imitation. That soft grin that only Vox could coak out, the actions that weren’t for show, dare he say the happiness Alastor wore on his face, it all made what Vox was doing worthwhile. The jokes that targeted what he knew Alastor laughed at, the strive to be better, brighter, the way that he had to live with his failure upon his head every morning. It was worth it to see this man smile.
“Oh, I’m listening, pal.” Alastor let his eyes linger for a moment longer before turning forward, pushing his glass as well. “Barkeep, another whiskey.”
Vox looked away as the glass refilled, mentally rehearsing his next lines again, raising his hand to rub his neck while Alastor flicked a coin to the demon.
“So, I’ve been thinking, Alastor…” A small electric current ran between his antennae as he looked back at the deer demon, the spark running down his arm and to his hands. This was it. This single moment would shape their futures, and Vox prayed to whatever would listen that it would end with their lives intertwined. With another breath, he stood from his seat and continued, “With your incredible power and my massive influence, we would be unstoppable.”
He placed his hand around Alastor’s shoulder, gesturing in front with the other. “Radio and video, me and you!” He pulled back just as fast, noting the way Alastor’s ears flicked back for a moment at the touch. “We could rule hell. Together! As partners!”
With another shaking breath, he outstretched his hand.
Alastor dragged his eyes over the hand. Then up the sleeve. Then to Vox’s screen. Anxiety made itself known as sweat on the back of Vox’s neck, the weight of Alastor’s calculating stare far more than he’d expected.
The pause lasted far longer than it should have, even if Alastor had been blindsided by this offer. That was impossible, as he was always three steps ahead of everyone and could read Vox like a TV guide, but the silence sat between them like a stale and oppressive weight.
Was this it? Was he not even going to grace Vox with a response? He’d expected a laugh or pitying speech maybe, if he was going to refuse him, not this uncomfortable silence. This wasn’t Alastor’s style, not at all. The lack of theatrics was more concerning than it really should have been.
“Alastor?” Vox asked, voice small.
The man in question hummed, as if just remembering to respond, before sliding in the seat to face Vox fully. Then he grabbed Vox’s hand. “Sure.”
A shocked jolt of electricity traveled from Vox to Alastor, his ear fluff puffing out as a consequence. “I–you–sure?”
“Why not?” Alastor pried his hand out of Vox’s grip, for some reason not wiping it off on his coat like he usually would, and instead took a drink of whiskey. “You are correct. We would make for a great team, and though my personal goal isn’t to become the ruler over Hell…” His eyes traced over Vox again, down his chest and back up to his screen in a deliberate motion, then blinked with his long lashes. “... well, I wouldn’t exactly mind the power we would hold.”
Holy shit. Holy shit! Alastor accepted it! He was–it–Vox could–holy shit! A laugh escaped from his throat as he sat back down, shoulders slumped in relief while an incredulous smile split his face.
“What has got you grinning like me?” Alastor tipped his head to the side curiously. “Is it because you thought I might refuse your offer? Aww, have some confidence, Vox. Who would turn down ruling all of Hell and its disgusting subjects?”
Vox just laughed along, because what else could he say? He ordered a drink for himself and let it soothe the post-anxiety jitters. His proposition worked. It worked. The fact hadn’t quite sunk in yet on account of him flying positively over the moon. They would rule Hell as kings.
The grin didn’t leave his face until he woke up the next morning, and it was still summoned by the mere thought of it.
Vox and Alastor, kings.
***
Alastor leaned back in the plush armchair of his radio studio. He tapped the ground with his staff, looking at the ceiling, cementing his plan in his mind.
Vox was, undoubtedly, head over heels and drowning in feelings for him. This was the perfect leverage. As much as teaming up with someone so closely didn’t do well for his loner reputation, he could use this man with the face of blasted technology.
(Alastor refused to acknowledge the slight trembling of his fingers when he agreed to the deal. He also refused to acknowledge an emotion that seemed far too close to fear for his liking. He wasn’t afraid of making the deal or of how close he would be to Vox for a span of several decades in order for this to work to his liking. No. He wasn’t a coward.)
His hypothesis stood as such: if he could build Vox to being an equal to him and nudge everyone to accept him as the most powerful sinner, then he would no longer be bound to Rosie.
He could almost see the pale pink shackle around his neck, chain pulled in the direction of Cannibal Town. A growl came from his throat.
It would just take a gentle push and Vox would be one of the most valuable pieces on the chess board.