Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Artificial lighting kept the large, open room bright, Vox’s eyes scanning over the screens in front of him once more. He looked intensely for any sign of that damn sinner who’d tried, and miserably failed, to scam him. Even though they didn’t succeed, Vox couldn’t have anyone thinking that the Vees were people who could be messed with. Although the guy was surprisingly elusive, Vox gave him another day or two before being found.

He heard splashing nearby, probably caused by Vark, who somehow had energy despite the late—or maybe early—hour. Either way, the noise knocked him out of his dedicated search, and he sighed, checking the time on his mental clock and finding that it was just past 5 AM. He’d pulled an all-nighter. Again.

The TV Overlord begrudgingly dragged himself from his chair, mentally preparing for Val’s questioning on why he never made it to bed. The moth needed to realize that it was either that, or he cried himself to sleep. Vox much preferred the former option, but for whatever reason, Valentino seemed to think otherwise.

As he turned to walk down the long platform to the exit of his office, he was met with a red figure that—not including the ears—reached just to where his chin was. Or, would be, given Vox didn’t have a normal face. It took him a moment to process the sight, but when he did, he immediately froze. Alastor stood casually a few feet away, arms crossed behind his back and signature grin planted on his face.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Vox snapped, trying to keep the glitching out of his voice and only partially succeeding.

The other looked a bit surprised, along with the flash of another emotion. Confusion, maybe? But why would Alastor be confused?

After a moment of silence, the deer demon spoke, “Vox, my old friend! How have you been?” The shorter moved his staff in front of him, leaning against it with both clawed hands.

The fucking audacity. “How’ve I been? How’ve I been?" Vox managed to spit out, willing his fans to whirl faster to cool down his system. He quickly moved forward, grabbing onto Alastor’s coat and barely thinking enough to process that Al didn’t immediately push him away like he normally would. “It’s been seven fucking years you old-timey prick!” he yelled through a heavily glitching screen, leaning down into Al’s face and slightly tearing his shirt.

It was only at the sound of ripping fabric that familiar black tentacles came out of the Radio Demon’s back. They sent Vox stumbling multiple feet away as Alastor momentarily took on a strained smile, which looked as though it was trying to be a snarl. “I simply wanted to come visit you, my dear. What is with all of this hostility?” he asked innocently, tone borderline mocking.

“We’re rivals, Alastor!” The sinner tilted his head like he didn’t know what that implied, making Vox glitch to the point of it being painful and leaving him to catch his breath for a moment. The instant he was able to, he shouted, “That means you don’t just disappear for almost a fucking decade, then show up in my office like its nothing!”

Alastor opened his mouth to respond, but a loud noise interrupted him. Vox looked past the shorter demon to see a frustrated-looking Velvette—who had no reason to even be near the TV Overlord’s office—shouting into her phone. Of course, the Radio Demon conveniently sunk into his shadows before Vel got to see him.

“Vox,” she snapped in her heavy British accent, yelling some other insults into her phone before bringing it away from her face once more. “A certain someone is being pissy again. Quit pretending like you have anything better to do and go shut him up.”

With a frustrated sigh and knowledge that Vel wouldn’t believe him if he told her that Alastor had been in his office seconds ago, Vox forced on his professional persona with practiced ease. “Of course, Velvette,” he said in a tone laced with fake nonchalance. “Where is he now?”

The Fashion Overlord turned back to the door. “Throwing a fit in his room. Just keep it down, will you?” With that, she stomped out of the office, demanding more things out of whatever sinner or hellborn was on the other end of her call.

Groaning in annoyance, Vox begrudgingly stepped onto the elevator in the middle of the room. As it moved him upwards, he made a mental note to check the security cameras of his office after he got Valentino to relax.

Vox returned just over an hour later, feeling achy and ready to sit down and look through the footage from earlier.

Before doing so, however, he heard a splash. Glancing to the side, he noticed that Vark had placed his head on the edge of the walking space. A small, genuine smile found itself on the Overlord’s face, and he approached the hammerhead shark. Vox sat down, legs crossed, and started to gently pet the animal. He hated that water made him glitch out, otherwise he’d have jumped in next to the shark to make petting him easier.

With a longing sigh, he waved Vark off and he stood. The animal obeyed the movement to swim alongside the other sharks. Vox walked to his chair and sat down, ready to just check this footage, finish up whatever paperwork or meetings he had, and be done with the day.

Shuffling through some digital files, it took him a few minutes to find the right moment. Vox opened the footage, then quickly scanned through for a glitchy blob of red… only it didn’t appear. He looked through it again, slower this time, but the only red sinner that showed up was Velvette. The TV’s eyes narrowed.

He rewinded it again, but nothing. Another rewind, and still nothing. Again. And again. And again and again and again but Alastor just wasn’t there, the camera didn’t even glitch in the slightest. It looked as if Vox was talking to no one, but he knew he saw Alastor there and he also knew it took at least four all-nighters for him to start seeing anything, let alone hearing and speaking to someone. Unless…

What if Alastor had found a way to become completely invisible to cameras? What if he’d been hiding in plain sight for those almost-seven years, having discovered a strategy for his presence to not even be processed? Showing it off by appearing in Vox’s office was definitely an Alastor thing to do, a way to mock him for not figuring it out sooner.

“Fuck, I’m so stupid!” he berated. “I need to figure out how he’s doing that, or it’s going to become a huge security issue. Fuck, I need to tell Val and Vel, as well—” He stopped.

No, no, they wouldn’t even believe him, would they? He could hear Velvette’s angry yelling already. “I thought you were over that radio prick, Vox!” Oh, Lucifer, don’t get him started on Val’s seductive tone. “Come on, Voxxy~ you don’t need to worry about him, you have me~!” That’s what he’d said soon after Alastor had disappeared.

That was fine, he didn’t need them. He’d easily deal with this before it became a problem in the slightest, get rid of whatever Alastor’s advantage was so fast that the other Vees wouldn’t notice it had even existed.

The only question he had was how.

Chapter Text

Vox was lounging in his room, watching a bit of television as sleep dragged his eyes down. He’d been spending all his time in his office since Alastor appeared two days ago, and he really wanted a bit of awake time to just exist. His boyfriend had checked out a few minutes prior, yawning and saying something about an early shift the next day, and he said he’d joined after the movie finished.

Vox missed spending late nights up with Valentino, but the moth demon always found a way to put his work first. Don’t get him wrong, Vox understood the grind, but he wished Val could just be less… angry all the time. Then, just maybe, these constant relationship breaks could finally stop, and they could be a proper couple for once. Still with the side-sleeping—it was Val’s job, after all—but a bit more one-on-one quality time.

“This is a rather tasteless show,” a radio-coated voice commented out of nowhere. Vox whipped around, nearly falling off the couch as Alastor continued with a sigh and head shake. “It’s just two hopeless, lovesick, shallow characters refusing to be adults and talk things out.”

“What the fuck?” was all Vox could manage for a few moments as the Radio Demon continued watching the movie with a bored expression. After processing what in the hell he was seeing, the TV Overlord shouted, “Why are you in my fucking room?!”

Alastor smiled wider, looking away from the television on the wall. “Well, my dearest Vox, I was getting rather bored and decided to see what you were up to. Our recent interactions have proven to be rather entertaining, after all!”

“You piece of shit, show up in my office tomorrow! I’m trying to take a break from you and your fuckery!” he hissed, jumping up and facing the shorter demon.

Alastor just leaned on his staff nonchalantly, pretending to ponder his options for a couple of seconds. “I suppose I could. My apologies for interrupting your alone time, old friend!” The deer demon waved in a teasing manner, before disappearing.

Well. That had been… easy. Too easy.

Fuck this, Vox was going back to his office and finding out how long that prick had been standing there. He’d apologize to Val in the morning.

Vox reviewed the wiring for what was possibly the thirteenth time in the past few hours. Yet again, everything was just fine. That was no surprise given he only hired the best, but it was driving him crazy; Alastor still wasn't visible. No wiring issue meant no camera glitch, so his original assumption had to be correct. But what was this new trick? How did he do it? How was Vox even supposed to figure anything out?

He clenched his fist, slamming it down on the keyboard that sat adjacent to the deconstructed camera on his desk. The object broke in two, leaving a dent in the metal it sat on. He heard some of the keys plop into the water, and assumed the larger splashes were from a few curious sharks who circled closer.

With a frustrated groan, Vox pulled himself from his chair. He noticed Vark swimming near the edge, looking at him, but he waved the animal off. Vark was adorable, really, but what the TV needed right now was a snack. Sure, it was—he checked the time—1 in the morning, but maybe he could just heat up some bagel bites and continue with his research.

Using the light emanating from his screen while also half-relying on muscle memory, Vox made his way to the kitchen that he and the other two Vees shared. None of them cooked; Velvette found it boring, Vox could never get anything to turn out right, and Valentino set the whole city on fire last time he tried (like, he actually burnt down multiple buildings and half of Vee Tower. The bills were fucking crazy that month). They didn’t have a chef, either, since dealing with one was much more time consuming than just heating up a meal that would already be better than whatever trash some sinner could cook up.

He reached for the kitchen doorknob, but paused as he noticed light and quiet music coming from under the door. Suddenly, he found himself much more awake than he was a few minutes ago. Who the fuck is cooking something at this hour? he thought to himself, eyes narrowing.

Slowly, the Overlord leaned against the blockade, keeping one hand on the handle while charging the other with electricity. He took a breath, swung the door open, and shouted, “Who the fuck—” Vox froze.

Alastor stood at the counter, humming along to the jazz that was playing from his microphone. Said staff leaned against the island, and Vox could see it peaking over the countertop from his spot at the door. The deer demon was calmly chopping bell peppers with practiced ease, either not having noticed Vox or—more likely—choosing not to care.

“Why the hell are you cooking in my kitchen?” Vox demanded, rushing forward with electricity still building in his palm as he glared at the back of the other Overlord’s head.

Alastor continued his rhythmic movements, not looking up at the other. “Well, I found myself getting rather hungry, but none of you seem to know what actual food is.” His tone sounded almost disappointed. “So, I threw out all of those disgraceful, pre-made, boxed items, and decided to cook a real meal!”

“So why the fuck are you—” The TV Overlord cut himself off, realizing what Al had said. “You threw out the bagel bites?!” he screamed. The electricity he’d been holding shot out erratically. Vox frantically began stomping on the nearby rug before the sparks could start a fire.

The Radio Demon hummed, completely unfazed by his panic. “If that is what you call those pitiable excuses for food, then yes!” He lifted the cutting board, sweeping cut vegetables—Vox could see onions and celery alongside the bell peppers—into the pot on the stove.

Vox took a frustrated breath. “Okay, get the fuck out before I beat the shit out of you,” he warned, deciding to give Alastor a chance to leave peacefully because…

Vox bit into the warm meal, smiling at all the flavors that blended so nicely and crashed just the right amount—

He didn’t want to clean blood off of the tiles or counter. It was always a complete headache. Velvette would probably be pissed with him, too, and then he’d be left with extra paperwork.

“And leave you with a half-cooked meal?” The shorter demon looked at him, snapping him out of his thoughts. “That would be unacceptable! Though, I suppose you would know nothing about being a gentleman,” Alastor sighed in feigned sorrow, clearly finding Vox’s anger enjoyable from the way his ever-present smile twisted upwards.

“I don’t want your disgusting food!” the TV spat, ignoring how alluring the scent was as he crossed his arms. “It’s probably filled with demon meat or poison, anyways.”

Alastor laughed, as if he actually found the comment funny. “Now why would I poison myself, my good man?” He turned to the cabinets. “And as delectable as demon flesh is, I prefer to keep these meals—“ Al gestured to the pot, though continued searching for whatever seasoning he was looking for— “untainted. It keeps them closer to the original recipe, after all!”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Just—get out,” he repeated like a broken record. Vox couldn’t help but feel that resorting to violence might be a necessity if he wanted the other to leave. For whatever reason, that didn’t excite him like it normally would. “I had a long day, Alastor. I really don’t wanna fight right now.”

“Whoever said we needed to fight?” The Radio Demon turned towards him, spices in hand, and gave an innocent look. “I am simply cooking a meal for an old friend!”

Okay, now Vox was starting to become confused. “Yeah. Old friend, meaning ex-friend. Why in the hell are you cooking me something?”

“Again, I found your food supplies to be quite pitiable! I’m simply giving you a nice treat.” Alastor went back to the pot, beginning to add more ingredients that Vox had long since memorized didn’t care to see. “We’ll say it’s in exchange for you being such a lovely host, hm?”

“Right,” Vox said, dragging out the word. “So what, I just tell Val and Vel you showed up, cooked us a totally normal meal out of the kindness of your heart, and left?”

Alastor continued humming.

With a sigh, the TV Overlord walked further into the room. He passed by the large table that was never used, instead grabbing a stool and sitting at the island. He patiently watched Alastor work, nostalgia filling his mind as the smells came together into something Al had made him time and time again. It always seemed to be better with each iteration.

He didn’t have to wait long for Alastor to place a bowl and drink in front of Vox, before seating himself beside the taller demon with his own meal in hand. The Radio Demon said nothing, just took a small bite of his meal and swirled the amber liquid in his own glass. Vox didn’t need to even look at it to know it was rye, and assumed his own would be the same due to there only being one bottle present.

The TV then looked at his food, poking a shrimp with his fork. He’d been watching pretty much the whole process. If he was poisoned, then Alastor would be, too. So, despite the bits of paranoia he felt, he raised his fork and took a bite. Vox’s face quite literally lit up. He forced its brightness back to normal, but couldn’t do much about the tension he felt melting out of his limbs.

The Jambalaya followed the trend of all the rest, being the best he’d ever eaten despite the dozens of times he’d had it. Everything was cooked to perfection, wonderfully seasoned with just the right amount of each flavor.

Vox missed these home-cooked meals, missed talking about his day over a drink, missed hanging out and dancing to soft jazz and having alcohol until they were both wasted.

He missed Alastor.

No, no. Those times were long gone. This was a one-off thing, some stupid scheme to gain Vox’s trust. He wasn’t going to fall for the Radio Demon’s lies again.

“It’s alright,” he muttered. “Now get out, you finished cooking or whatever.” He took another bite, eyes locked onto his food so he wouldn’t have to look at the other.

“Why don’t you explain to me some of the recent happenings within the Pride Ring? I’ve been a bit absent, after all.” He could imagine Alastor’s smile curling upwards slyly.

Vox narrowed his eyes at the normally-shorter Overlord, having to look up due to his own less-than-perfect posture. “Can’t Rosie tell you all that shit?”

“Perhaps, but she is a very busy lady.” Alastor took a moment to have another sip of rye. “We both have time right now, so why don’t you fill me in? I’ve heard you’ve gained quite the traction in the media, after all, so I’m sure you have some fascinating tales to share.”

After a moment of weighing his options, Vox sighed and gave in. “Fine, fine, I’ll tell you a thing or two…” He racked his brain for anything he could tell the red-clad sinner, something that would catch his attention and keep it. “Oh, yes! So, Zeezi got into some drama with an imp of all things! It’s been fucking hilarious to hear about—”

Vox delved into a rant about the recent news, until two stories became three, then four, then five, then he found himself losing track. Vox finished his meal, yet the TV Overlord allowed Alastor to refill his drink. He’d take a sip then keep talking, while Alastor listened and occasionally filled Vox’s glass back up.

He found himself lost in a time long gone, talking about gossip with the silent comfort of his best friend listening, and it was only broken when Alastor picked Vox’s drink from his hand mid-sip. “I do believe that is all the time I have for now,” he explained casually. “And if I am not mistaken, you did promise dear Valentino you’d be following him soon.”

Vox’s eyes went wide, the random information he was spitting immediately becoming of no importance. “Oh, shit shit shit—“ He jumped from his stool, running back up towards his and Valentino’s room. He didn’t bother to say bye to Alastor and his probably smug expression. After all, it was a one-time thing. Al found Vox entertaining, nothing more.

The TV could worry about that later, though, so he pushed the red bitch out of his mind and checked his internal clock. 4AM, fucking fantastic. Vox made it to his room in record time, slowing down and letting his fans whirl for a moment.

Taking a breath, he entered the bedroom and didn’t bother with his pajamas—an oversized t-shirt and shorts that he almost never actually slept in—as Valentino seemed to have been too tired to remove them, himself. With a level of caution he didn’t know how he was managing after so many drinks, he laid down in bed and wrapped his arms around Val’s torso. Mission success. Now to fall asleep without crying all night… Wait.

What did he have to cry about? He swore that just a week ago, he’d been either crying or not sleeping at all, but why?

He racked his brain for an answer, but drew up blank.

Shit, maybe that’d been a dream. He’d had a few too many drinks, after all, and wasn’t sleeping well lately because of Alastor’s reappearance. Fuck, now he was thinking about Alastor and that interaction they’d just had because the radio prick liked to play with his emotions.

But thinking back to it, Alastor seemed actually interested in the nonsense Vox was talking about. He’d been nodding along, making little comments, and, hell, even laughing at some points. Maybe—maybe the deer demon just wanted to get over everything. It had been seven years, after all, and that was plenty of time to—

Shit, no, what in Lucifer’s name was he thinking? Alastor was a master actor, always had been and always would be. Believing anything other than that was exactly what Al wanted, and—fuck, Vox really drank too much, didn’t he?

He groaned internally, realizing he’d probably be hungover over the next day, and would also have to explain the whole fucking meal that magically appeared overnight. Wonderful. That was future Vox’s problem, not his.