Work Text:
The shrill of Alastor’s telephone disturbed the evening’s air. Alastor ignored it as he fixed his nametag in the mirror. He’d be the acting Night Manager downstairs tonight, which typically meant supervising the bar until Husker and himself blacked out from drinking. Although he was ready to clock in, Alastor paused in the threshold of the doorway as the phone finished ringing, to be sure it wouldn’t ring again immediately– signaling the message to be of actual importance. To Alastor’s annoyance, it did. Alastor slammed the door and marched over to his corded phone.
“What?” Alastor barked down the line, in a sharp and unimpressed tone.
There was a sharp statically inhale as Vox began to speak, but Alastor instantly recognized the high, electronic whine.
“Oh my God!” Alastor cut Vox off, “I don’t have time to listen to a stalker jerk off while breathing down my line! I have a job!”
“Wait, wait wait wait,” Vox quickly said, “I really, truly, desperately need your help!”
That admission gave Alastor a pause.
“What could I possibly do to help YOU?” Alastor pondered out loud, incredulous. Alastor was not as unaware of Vox’s Overlord status as he pretended to be. “Do you have a radio request?” Alastor suggested.
“If you could shut up for ten seconds and let someone else speak, I’d tell you.” Vox muttered sardonically.
Alastor counted ten seconds of silence as Vox silently deflated from the embarrassment of his request.
“I don’t have all day,” Alastor reminded him.
“Alright,” Vox gathered himself and then spoke fast, “So I was ADHDing all over the place as usual, and a really important prescription slipped my mind– one with the blackmarket pharmacist. I think we have the same guy, Darrell?
“Ugh. Darrell.” Alastor interjected
“Fucking Darrell” Vox concurred, then continued, “Darell’s not going to be back with new contraband from Sloth for weeks. I know we hate each other, but I don’t have many friends– because I’m SO important, not for any other reason– and you’re literally the only other transguy I know in Hell. Could you…” Vox took a deep breath, “Could you please spare any T?”
Alastor laughed, “Are you asking to borrow testosterone the way a neighbor borrows a cup of sugar?”
“You don’t have to help.” Vox mumbled sadly, “I’ll just crush ginger and spinach into my morning coffee.”
“Oh, how sad and pathetic.” Alastor goaded him, “I had hoped you didn’t listen to the drivel on your own programming.”
“Pathetic enough to spare a couple pills?” Vox asked with a false, exaggerated hopefulness.
Alastor sighed, “You’re lucky I’ve had a habit of stockpiling since the Great Depression,”
“I knew you’d help,” Alastor could hear the grin in Vox’s tone, “I’m already in the lobby.”
—
“Stop blaming your forgetfulness on ADHD.” Alastor nickeled Vox as he placed a small bag on the bar.
“Stop being a cunt.” Vox jabbed back.
Alastor narrowed his eyes and made a move to take back the pills, but Vox quickly scooped them up and placed them in his coat.
“Sorry; I didn’t mean to be transphobic. Stop being a dick .”
A frightening static filled the air. “Get out of my lobby,” Alastor spat at him.
Vox maintained his grin as he peeled himself off the bar stool and politely sauntered out the lobby with an air of victory– a victory that, despite everything said and done, Alastor was still his friend. Alastor pressed an elbow onto the bar’s countertop and chuckled as he held his head in his hand.
Husk, who was watching them from behind the bar, wondered what the hell was up with all that.