Chapter Text
It was nighttime. Hell outside was buzzing, but not as loud as Vox while he had his sweet ol' sheninigan time with Miles.
The dudes had a bit of trouble getting along at first, them being both tops and all, but they made it work. They both got to use their dicks, Vox used his wires, Miles used... fingers (basic ass bitch how could he ever be an alpha like that.) And made it work.
Both Val and Velvette had come to tell them to shut the fuck up for a bit but they just went louder out of spite.
"Oooh yeah... hell yeah b-baby... whimpers.." Vox chanted meanwhile Miles sounded like a minecraft dog. Until he randomly decided to get the upper hand and bit Vox's square teal nipple hard enough to bruise, making the TV head yelp.
"Ah- what the hell is wrong with you! Ah~..."
"Grrr..."
❉
That went on for a good extra hour before they finally flopped into bed, panting and wheezing (like how Miles laughs on an average day) from exhaustion and pleasure.
"Oh my fucking god, dude..."
"Yeah, fucking god, dude..."
After a minute of laying - without realizing it- at the same time, they sat up, reached for cigars on the nightstands, lit em up and leaned back to smoke them with the swaggiest smirks on their faces.
❉
In the morning, they felt pretty normal, flirting their way through breakfast like always. It was about a week later when the problems started.
Miles first got nauseous on a random Friday and ran off, only for Vox to start feeling queazy two seconds later and run into the same bathroom.
That caused a little fight. A funny and gross one, when in the midst of vomitting Vox had to defend himself against the angry hellhound yelling at him inbetween held-back gags. It was a very interestingly smelling and sounding bathroom right then.
A few days later the issue became clear.
"VOX!!"
"MILES!!"
Both roared across half of the damn lair.
They stomped their way to eachother angrily and stopped right across from one another, in the center of whatever lobby they found.
"You slippery little fishy bitch."
"You mangy mutt."
"You stinky pussy."
"Me what?!"
"Shut it! You know what the fuck you did to me!"
"Well you did something VILE to me too!"
"Really?!"
"Yeah!!"
The two fuckers glared at eachother for a good minute until saying it:
"You got me pregnant."
"You got me pregnant."
"I *what*?"
"I *what*?"
"Hey, don't play dumb with me! Stop mocking me!"
"Hey don't-"
Vox slaps the hellhound across the face to shut him up. The alpha wannabe growls at him.
"You're a gigantic retard!"
Miles starts pacing around, tail wagging in rage.
"Retard! Retard! You flippin twit! You got a SMART TV as a head and you decide to do this typa shit?!"
"Hey, it's not like I KNEW-"
"Ooh, look at me, I'm Vox! I'm gunna take over hell and- oops! Stuck my peepee in a d-hole and I got a man pregnant! Oopsies! Aha- elder millenial behaviour!- Duuuh!"
"Miles-"
"Duuuuh!"
"Miles!"
"*imitates celebral palsy* Oh duuuh I need my headset duuuh-"
"...."
Vox is speechless, pinching his nosebridge (if he has one??).
"You realize I'm pregnant too? How am I gonna rule Hell looking like an inflation fetish victim?"
"Sybau, you're still a twig."
"Argh! Why won't you LISTEN?!"
Vox yells, tearing up.
"Stop crying you little piss baby. You'll be birthing the piss baby you don't need more pissbaby-ness before that."
Vox wants to snap something back, but instead runs away sobbing and snorting. One stomp maybe elicits a toot or two.
Miles just watches and processes what happened and what he said.
"Hmph..."
He crosses his arms and looks down, hair falling over his eyes emo-ly.
"Maybe I was too harsh...? Or no... ugh... fudge.. fiddlesticks- flip!"
He kicks a nearby table, knocking off a vase and nearly breaking his toes.
"Ai blyat!"
He hops around on foot while holding the other.
"Ai- rats! Fudge! Fudge!"
❉
Vox retreats back to his room, slamming the door.
A tear runs down his blue screen and he flops into bed, taking the pillow and sobbing into it.
"What the fuck... sob... whimper... why won't he listen?!"
He buries his face in the pillow and cries like a bitch sum more.
"Yeah... yeah I'm- hic- I'm just a stupid clanker! Yeah! I'm just a little tiny clanker trying to seem big and tough... I'm..."
He looks down at his sliiiiiiiightly 🤏 not as flat stomach, and reaches down to hold it gently.
"I'm not nothing..." He whispers. "I'm a father..."
He just stays there and breaths for a second, before the door opens. Miles shuffles in with his ears low and tail tucked.
Vox whips around. He glares but says nothing.
The hellhound shuffles closer and looks at him, nearly puppy eyes, and whines in apology.
"I'm sorry I made fun of you Voxxy. I... I know this is serious and all... I'm just... scared. And I know you are too."
He steps closer, and takes the softness in Vox's eyes as a cue to hug him.
Vox lets his sugary pookie dookie smoochie poochie loopie pookie with a cherry on top back into bed, cuddled up tight against one another.
"I love you, Miles."
"I love you too, Vox."
They kiss.
"I'm sorry..-"
"Shh... it's all okay now."
They close their eyes and silent down.
Miles starts to feel the baby kicking. Vox can hear it too, opening an eye to see. Miles scowls.
"Erm... sigma what the?"
(DRAWING HE MADE OF THIS OH MY GOD MILES I LOVE YOU)
