Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“That bitch!”

The weakened crackle of electricity filled the room as Vox slammed his fist onto the sprawling desktop. He’s had seven whole years to prepare and he fucked it in seven hours. Why was it so difficult sneaking up on that old fool?

Vox swiveled around in his chair, facing the multitude of monitors recently dedicated to surveying the fabled “Hazbin Hotel”. He watched slowly as the cameras placed throughout the building by the sniveling snake were systematically dismantled. Vox noticed how, before they darkened for the last time, a very distinctive shadow would be caught for a split second. No doubt the other wanted to rub it in even more.

What a waste of equipment.

A sigh escaped the TV Demon as he pulled himself up from his chair. It was a good effort, but the fossil always seemed to be just one step ahead of him. Vox glared once more at the darkened monitors, as if they had personally failed him, before zapping himself out of the room. It took him a couple of moments of traveling through the current to settle on his next target.

“Velvette! Lovely to see you!” Vox flopped down onto the couch Velvette was settled on, casually scrolling on her phone. She nonchalantly lifted a hand in greeting before returning to her phone.

“Finally. I’ve been waiting the last half hour for you. Did you get lost in the circuit again?” Velvette teased, smirking at her phone. Her legs were crossed neatly under her. She was in the exact same spot he had left her. Lazy bitch.

Vox scoffed, trying to hide his embarrassment. “It was one time, sweet-cheeks, get over it. You know you’re not one to judge. Remind me again how many brand deals you’ve fumbled this last month?”

“Oh, piss off. It’s all about standards, babe. And they clearly weren’t prepared for my demands,” Velvette shrugged, finally shutting her phone off. “So… mind telling me what exactly was so important for you to let our food get cold?”

“Our food? You know I’m not touching any of that,” Vox grimaced, staring at the greasy pile of takeout. Even if he could eat, he doubted any of it would be able to stay down for longer than a few seconds. Velvette had very… interesting tastes.

“Alright, whatever. You know what I mean. There had to have at least been a little juicy drama for you to take so long.” Velvette cracked open one of the takeout boxes, revealing what looked like stewed liver pâté. She paused after a couple seconds, discreetly giving Vox a once-over, before continuing casually, “It wasn’t Val, was it?”

Vox felt his smile stiffen a bit. “Why? Is he acting up again?” The last thing he wanted to do tonight was deal with that blubbering asshole. He’s already had to stop him from massacring his best employees three times this week.

Velvette shook her head, scooping out some of the concoction onto a Pride Ring branded paper plate. “Nah, I just know he’s been a bit unpredictable lately since Angel’s been gone. You obviously know how it is,” Velvette laughed under her breath, before shoveling some food into her mouth. Vox knew he wasn’t the only one who received pushback from Val. He was lucky to have Vel as the first line of defense against the third member. He still owes her a drink for the last time she took a bloody nose on his behalf.

“Oh god, it’s just as good cold,” Velvette groaned.

“Nasty,” Vox snarled, snuggling up against the coach now that he knew they would be left alone. “I don’t know how you can eat that. You must have been a disgusting human.”

Velvette rolled her eyes before poking the other in the chest. “Says the slimy newscaster! Tell me, how many interns did you fuck in your lifetime?”

Vox tsked, about to mutter, ‘not many’ before Velvette continued.

“Bitch, I know what you’re doing! Stop trying to distract me cuz I know the drama’s good. What happened with the Radio Demon!”

Vox felt his screen freeze again momentarily, recalling the complete blunder with the old fool.

Velvette sighed, returning to her food. “Lemme guess. He one-upped you again?”

“How was I supposed to know that Pentious would fuck it up so quickly?” Vox slumped back against the couch, massaging the sides of his screen. He could feel an outage coming on and he usually limited those to once a week, let alone twice in one day.

Putting down her food, Velvette reached out to grab his hand. “Calm down, Voxxy. We’ll just have to find a different way to get under his skin.”

The silence stretched between the two for a second, both trying to come up with something plausible. Well, Velvette probably was. Vox was pretty sure his CPU was about to reach its limit.

“Maybe there’s somebody else that we can trust to infiltrate. Somebody sneaky enough to not get their cover blown, but also pathetically sad enough for the Princess to trust,” Velvette tapped Vox’s hand with each new point, eyebrows drawn in concentration.

“Well, duh, Dollface. But there’s not really anybody left we can trust with that kinda stuff. Both of us need every last one of our employees right now. If Val ain’t gonna let us use Angel, then we’re screwed.” Vox snorted to himself, an idea crossing his mind, “Unless one of us go in there, but I doubt the Princess-“

Velvette jumped up from the sofa, dragging the other demon up with her. “Holy shit! That’s it!”

“Holy- fuck, Vel, warn a guy before-“

“Shut up for a sec, Voxxy. If you’re really goddamn serious about taking down the Radio Demon then I think that’s the way we do it,” Velvette clenched down on the TV Demon’s hand, a maniacal look on her face.

Vox took a step back, attempting to put a bit more distance between the two. “I mean, of course I’m serious. That fucker ruined my reputation and demolished-“

“Okay, okay. You hate him, got it,” Velvette cut him off, expression growing wilder. “Hear me out and don’t interrupt me ‘cuz I know you’re gonna fuckin’ hate it.” She paused, before taking a deep breath. Her next words were dripping with excitement.

“We send you in there.”

Vox didn’t even need to see the light reflecting off Velvette’s face to know he blue-screened. Shaking himself out of his stupor, Vox stared dumbfounded, butting in before Velvette could continue, “Are you stupid? You actually think the Princess would let her hotelier’s arch NEMESIS into her domain as one of her guests? Actually, forget that. You think that Alastor would let me in?! Are you crazy?”

A moment passed, Velvette’s eyes darting around Vox’s screen, before she clicked her tongue, sashaying to the other side of the room. A mocking tone drifted from the other demon, putting Vox in the defense, “Wow, Voxxy. Maybe we should stop calling you the brains of the group, cuz you’re really dropping the ball here.” She reached the bar, pouring herself a glass of her favorite Merlot. Her voice dropped as she mumbled to herself, “I told you no interrupting, and ya still don’t listen…”

Eying the expensive alcohol, Vox shook his head. “You’re serious then. Tell me. How exactly will this work?”

Velvette put down the bottle, turning to the other. “It’s simple, babe. We rough you up a bit, but not too much. You show up, sad and desperate, knocking away at Miss Morningstar’s door. They open up. What do you say?” Velvette strutted back to the couch, leaning against the back of it. Clearing her throat, she put on her most television-ready voice, rubbing faux tears on her face, “‘Oh, Princess! I can’t stand it anymore being with Valentino! He’s just awful. Constantly taking me for granted. I can’t take it anymore!’” Velvette dropped her hands, staring intently into Vox’s eyes. “The little bleeding heart won’t know what hit her! You might have to put up with bein’ squeaky clean for a bit, but you’ve never really been one to indulge in the finer parts of Hell anyways.“

Velvette sighed heavily, clearly worn out from her little rant. Vox cleared his throat, immediately drawing her eyes back to him.

“Very clever plan, really. Honestly one of the best I’ve ever heard. But there’s one prob, Vel.” Vox say up straighter, pointedly glaring at the other demon. “I’m not pathetic.” Vox straightened out his suit, showing her his most blinding (literally) smile.

Velvette gave him a once-over, eyebrows lifted almost to her hairline. The light from his screen illuminated her skepticism perfectly. The TV Demon felt himself deflate.

“Oh, cmon… Am I actually?”

Patting his cheek, Velvette settled back down on the sofa. “Just a bit, babe.”

Vox stared at the other, a little offended. Unfortunately, he knew she wasn’t exactly wrong.

Maybe he just wanted an excuse not to go?

He really wanted to destroy that fucker. Like, really wanted to.

His obsession was a tad bit strange now that he thought about it.

“Oh, stop second-guessing yourself. You’re a phenomenal actor, Vox. You’ve been doing it for centuries,” Velvette took a sip from her drink, the look on her face turning sour. “Not like you’ll need to pretend to be a battered boyfriend with an exhausting life. You and I have been livin’ it for the past couple of years.”

Vox rolled his eyes, scoffing at the last part. It’s not like a couple of bashed screens realistically inhibited an overlord all that much anyways.

It was, however, a bit inconvenient to switch his screen out every month.

“I’m not really second-guessing myself. I just- is Alastor really worth all this? I’ve let myself become so obsessed with him that he’s all I think about anymore outside of business and the Vee’s.” Vox trailed off. tapping the sides of his screen thoughtfully.

Off to his right, Vox missed the disbelieving look Velvette shot his way. Gradually, an understanding began to dawn on her face, shaking her head fondly at the other overlord.

Vox could be such an idiot sometimes. Good thing he still had her around or he’d be doomed.

He shook off the thought, chuckling to himself, “But really Velvy. Where have you been hiding this? Could have used a plan like this a couple of hours ago.”

Velvette cackled, tossing back the last of her drink. “Eh, you tried. Besides, kind of funny to think that on top of dealing with Alastor at the hotel, you might have to put up with that snake bitch too.”

Groaning, Vox finally let himself fall back against the couch again.

“Fuckkk. How am I supposed to deal with that prissy bitch?”

Velvette raised a brow at him, now looking at his comments with a new understanding. She daintily placed her head in her palm, gesturing off-handedly to the other’s screen, “You’ve got a big brain, Voxxy. I’m sure you can find some weakness of his to exploit.”

Damn. Alastor might finally be within his grasp. Was he really gonna do this?

“Fuck it. If I’m gonna take out the Radio Demon, I might as well go all in.”

He had nothing to lose, after all.

Chapter Text

The black limousine sped by the ravaged landscape of Hell at dangerously high speeds. Every now and then, the vehicle sped over suspiciously large bumps in the road, throwing Vox around in the back seat. Usually, he would raise Hell on his driver for being so careless, as he would rather not show up to professional functions with his suit askew. However, the extra scratches and bumps accrued during the ride were par for the course, as it would add to his so called “pathetic bitchass appearance” as Velvette so eloquently put it.

They had planned the night before to “fix” Vox up with some of Velvette’s cosmetics, hopefully raising the chances he was accepted by the Princess. Yet, when Vox informed his other half of his sudden departure, the moth demon decided he wanted to treat Vox before he left. Never one to say no to the other, Vox followed him to their shared room.

He wasn’t surprised that, when he looked in the mirror the next morning, a couple of fresh scratches were found on his screen and a handful littered his back.

Val always made sure to leave a little something for the other to memorialize their time together.

Regardless, the makeup was no longer necessary. Nor the busted screen he had prepared earlier in the week.

Vox felt the searing red eyes of both his partners fixated on his screen, each for vastly different reasons. He let out an irritated sigh, deciding to face the arguably more explosive of the two. Valentino’s eyes narrowed dangerously upon meeting Vox’s.

“Listen, Val. I’m not gonna be gone for long. I’ll be monitoring our projects and working on the new additions to the new branch while at the hotel. Just think of this as a business trip,” Vox felt himself turn up the charm, reaching across to the other and grasping his hand. Val’s fingers instinctively clenched down on the Vox’s hand, a dark smile momentarily crossing the moth demon’s face. “Hey, I’ll even keep an eye on Angel Dust while I’m there. Make sure he’s not… stepping out of line.”

Valentino’s lips curled further into a menacing grin, his fingers tightening further on Vox’s hand. Vox turned on his megawatt smile, the edges creasing painfully.

“You know just how to make my day, don’t you, Cariño?” Valentino’s heavily lidded eyes pierced Vox, who nodded self-assuredly in turn.

“Vox, we’re almost there babe,” Velvette’s warm tones soothed the TV Demon, allowing his to relax further in his seat.

Until the words registered.

Vox turned to stare out the window, the distant hotel making his stomach curl dangerously. Thank Lucifer he couldn’t throw up, or Val would be receiving his own little present right now.

That sounded kind of appealing, actually.

Turning back around, Vox was met with the comfort of Velvette’s hand on his thigh. “You’re gonna rock this, Voxxy. Just stay long enough to get that info on Alastor and then you’re gone. You’ll be in and out before they know it,” Velvette prattled off assurances, tapping her own wristwatch. “Remember, just contact me through this when you’re ready for pick-up and I’ll be there within the hour.”

Vox nodded, half listening to Velvette’s speech. They had already been through this multiple times, so he didn’t really feel as if he was missing much.

“Oh, Vel, darling. He’ll be fine, you know it,” Valentino reached across the aisle, playfully patting her knee. Vox didn’t miss the way she subtly shifted her legs after being touched by him, as if rubbing off the traces of him. Apparently Val didn’t either, as his nostrils flared in anger, before continuing, “Besides, the Radio Demon is too pussy to try anything. After his little battle on Extermination Day, I’m sure he’s been a little humbled.”

Vox nodded excitedly, recalling last week’s events. The trio had decided to wait a couple of months after their last encounter to enact their plan, as they recognized it might be a little conspicuous to attempt another infiltration so soon after Pentious’ failed attempt. The thrill Vox experienced upon seeing Alastor in complete submission, was, well…

Let’s just say Val, Porn Overlord, would never be able to compare.

Vox felt his cheeks darken a bit at the image in his head, before shaking the thought away. Velvette gave him a knowing look, before giggling to herself. Vox’s cheeks darkened further, recollecting Vel’s little theory she had as to why he was so obsessed with the Radio Demon. He would never forget the power outage that occurred after that conversation and the subsequent jealous rebuttals from Val.

Well, at least he’d get a nice little break from that during his stay at the Hazbin Hotel.

He still thought that name was stupidly corny.

The driver stopped a couple of miles from the hotel. It would be a hell of a walk, but they needed to make sure none of Alastor’s informants spotted them. Ultimately, it wouldn’t matter too much one way or another, as they had mapped out a little scenario so that the general public might buy the act. For most, it would be hard to believe that the former laughingstock of a hotel might accrue two of Hell’s most powerful overlords within a year of it’s opening. Therefore, these next few moments would be key.

“You ready, Vox?” Velvette’s warm eyes met Vox’s own, as the he shot back a grin.

“You know it babe! Can’t wait to take the little bitch down,” Vox’s fist pumped in the air, as he braced his hand on the door handle. He shot Valentino a look, raising a brow in his unspoken question.

Valentino rolled his eyes, pushing past Vox and shoving open the door without warning. Val’s heeled foot kicked out, pushing the other overlord out of the limo in a flurry of movement. Vox felt the corner of his screen crack on the pavement, causing a spider web of previously minimal damage to cross his vision. He felt himself scowl, turning to the other.

“You fucking p-prick! What the he-hell was that for?” Vox’s voice stuttered out, a combination of rage and what was likely internal hardware damage. It was coincidentally part of the script, but what the fuck?

“I know you fucked her Vox, stop acting like you didn’t,” Val’s wings flared in response, his acting painfully bad. Vox thanked his lucky stars that this part of the city wasn’t too crowded. Still, he noticed multiple sinners turning their heads toward the racket, aiming their phones at the couple.

Vox stood up, a nasty scowl splitting his face. At least he didn’t have to try that hard to let the vitriol cross his lips. “Y’know what. Fuck you, you g-godamn asshole. I know you’ve been having those free-for-all orgies in your STD-infested sex dungeon. At least I actually have some class about it.” Vox adjusted his suit, his voice slowly becoming steady again.

A dark look crossed Val’s face, before evidently remembering this was all part of their pre-written script. Still, his next line came out with a dangerous edge to it, “Stay away, you greasy-ass motherfucker. If I see you fucking face again, I will shatter it into fucking pieces, malparido.”

The moth spit after Vox, slamming the door. His driver pulled out immediately, causing the pool of sewage they had apparently parked in to splatter all over the TV Demon.

“Well, fuck you too, asshole,” Vox shouted after the limo, wiping down his screen with a dry part of his sleeve.

Fucking great. At least this wasn’t a tailored suit. He felt his rage growing, despite being the one to script the whole encounter. The other went way too far; the cracked screen wasn’t foreseen. A sharp, blinding light distracted the demon, as passerby were beginning to snap pictures of the downtrodden overlord.

Maybe Vel was right in calling him pathetic.

He began his long trek toward the hotel, zapping through Vox-branded cameras when presented with the opportunity. However, as he grew closer to the hotel, they became more infrequent. After his attempt to infiltrate, Alastor had ensured there be no cameras on any of the Princess’ property. Scowling, Vox trudged the last couple of blocks toward the hotel, cursing their plan the whole way.

“Stupid fuckin’ Val and stupid fuckin’ mud. Can’t find a decent part of Hell anywhere,” Vox mumbled, kicking a stone down the road. The closer he got, the more obvious Alastor’s presence became. The everlasting frequencies coming from the Radio Demon’s tower momentarily messed with Vox’s screen, clearing as the overlord made a couple of internal adjustments.

As he approached the hotel’s door, Vox began to feel more confident. He recalled the one time he had met the Princess. She had really been quite lovely and exceedingly kind considering he had been trying to talk her into a business deal that was obviously a bit unbalanced.

She believed in second chances, right? He really should fit right in.

Vox lifted his hand, rapping firmly on the grandiose door. A couple moments passed before the door opened, a blonde head peeking out excitedly, before freezing suddenly.

The Princess met his eyes momentarily, giving him a quick once-over. Vox put on his most blinding grin, winking at the Princess.

“Hello-“

The door slammed in his face. Vox paused, about to step back before the Princess opened the door once more.

“I’m he-“

Again, the door slammed.

Vox felt his screen glitch, his assurance on the Princess’ character quickly being replaced with irritation. What the Hell was going on?

A hesitant voice drifted through the door, likely not intended for Vox to hear.

“Uhm, Vaggie? The TV Demon’s at the door…”

A short silence stretched, before an exasperated voice responded, “Not this shit again.”

For the last time, the door opened. This time, it was answered by a shorter demon. Vox jumped back, warily eyeing the gigantic angelic spear.

“Heh, can I speak now?“ Vox’s voice came out unintentionally unsure. When met with the disbelieving stare from the little demon, he chuckled. He cleared his throat and continued, “I am aware my presence isn’t exactly… welcomed after your hotel’s first impression of me. But I was looking to seek an audience with the Princess.”

The Princess pushed past the sinner at the door, but not before the smaller woman could shoot him one last glare. “I’ll take it from here, Vaggie. You can call me Charlie, by the way. The title isn’t really necessary here,” Charlie laughed awkwardly, again eyeing his likely unseemly figure. “What can we do for you?”

The sharp spike of a familiar noise pierced the air, causing the Princes to jump slightly. Vox cringed internally, preparing himself for what was likely to be a very unpleasant experience.

His eyes jumped to the smirking bastard, who actually seemed… shocked at his presence.

“Charlie, would you be a dear and tell me why this fink is here?”

Chapter Text

It was rare for Alastor to find himself in the hotel’s great room, especially at such a late hour. Shockingly, he enjoyed spending his time not being sexually harassed by the now singular resident of their establishment. However, even Alastor could say he was prone to bouts of loneliness. He had figured that, perhaps, his time might be well spent knocking back a couple of glasses of whiskey at the bar.

Later on, he would lament not sticking to his routine.

After Alastor’s sixth glass, a sense of uneasiness hit him. Usually, it would take a couple more to put him under, but he hadn’t partaken in quite a while. He recalls with shocking clarity the last time he drank a tad bit too much. After three decades, he’s still not allowed within 50 feet of that particular establishment. It was quite a shame. The Étouffée there was lovely.

Yet, something told him it was more than just the whiskey.

He had been nursing his seventh, and decidedly final, dram when the knocking began. Taking another sip, he registered Charlie standing from the stool next to him. He was lucky she was the only other one at the bar, as she was a shockingly tolerable drinking buddy. Her ecstatic ramblings were a fresh breath of air from the usual dullness of Hell. And, better yet, she could hold her liquor.

Before he knew it, Charlie’s voice was calling back to the other woman lingering in the lobby’s sitting area.

“Uhm, Vaggie? The TV Demon’s at the door…”

He froze.

And here he was thinking tonight would be surprisingly pleasant. Really was too good to be true.

Vox struck a satisfyingly pathetic figure. Mud soaked his presumably lavish suit and water dripped from nearly every part of him. While Alastor wasn’t overly familiar with what a high quality television was supposed to look like, he doubted the multitude of cracks running across Vox’s face were normal.

He had looked like he got into a fight with a fire hose and, predictably, lost.

Despite the ongoing conversation, Alastor did what he does best. That is, stick his nose in places it doesn’t belong.

With a sharp sound of interference, Alastor commanded attention from all, both in and outside the hotel. The duo at the door jumped, grasping their heads to block out the noise. With his eyes fixed on the digital fool, Alastor addressed his co-owner, “Charlie, would you be a dear and tell me why this fink is here?”

Vox’s eyes zeroed in on Alastor, narrowing imperceptibly. The grin on his face wavered momentarily, before snapping back to his TV-ready persona. Clearing his throat and adjusting his suit, he spoke up, “Alastor, long time no see! I was wondering-”

“I believe I clarified that I was addressing Charlie, you half-wit. Now please, do us all a favor and butt out,” Alastor snapped, smirking cheekily at Vox. Electricity sparked out of the cracks in the other's screen, but other than that he had no reaction.

Charlie’s head snapped between the two, clearly wary of the dynamic they had fostered in her hotel. Attempting to lighten the situation, she turned to Vox, opening the door wider, “I was just about to ask him that question, actually. Mr. Vox, why don’t you come inside? I’m sure one of our staff can grab you a towel and, uhm… whatever you need to patch up your… face?”

At this, Nifty zipped out from the corner where she had been trying to lure out cockroaches with dinner’s leftovers and hightailed it upstairs. Vox made to step inside the hotel, before Alastor appeared in front of him.

“Hah! Charlie, as much as I appreciate that ever-lovable mind that you have, I do believe that allowing this has-been to cross into our territory is unacceptable. Perhaps we can just escort him off the property, hmm?” Alastor gave Charlie what he was hoping was a playful wink. However, based on her minuscule shiver, he believed he failed in that department.

Charlie collected herself, pulling Vox alongside her into a friendly hug. Alastor could already tell by the look on her face that she was ready to go off on another tirade about redemption.

“Al, I know that you might not-”

“Okay, so we’re doing this,” Alastor interrupted begrudgingly, before snapping back to his place at the bar with his whiskey in hand. Well, that’s what he was aiming for. Somehow, he instead ended up landing his buttocks squarely on the cold floor. He hissed at the pain, longing to rub his sensitive tail. He knew he should’ve cut that thing off for good. Not that he hadn’t tried before.

“Al! Are you okay?” Charlie rushed over to his side, reaching out a hand to pull him up. Waving off her concern, and the touch that came with it, Alastor awkwardly got back onto his feet. Brushing down the front of his suit, he cursed his blasted Hell-form.

“It’s alright my dear! Perhaps I had a bit too much whiskey, that’s all,” Alastor turned toward the bar, gesturing at Husk to take his glass away. Ignoring the sudden silence from the two normally chatty individuals behind him, he began to mentally prepare himself for the conversation ahead. The bartender stood dumbfounded, robotically taking the glass of whiskey from where it had been left. Still facing Husk, Alastor called back over his shoulder, “Now, Vox, I do believe that-”

“Hooolyyyyy shit!” Vox’s voice pierced the air, causing Alastor’s ears to flatten in annoyance. The Radio Demon turned on the other, summoning his staff. Perhaps the flat faced prick needed some more sense knocked into him if he thought interrupting Alastor would be a good idea.

Yet, upon facing the gathering crowd of individuals — that is, as much of a crowd you could get in a hotel with an occupancy of six — he hesitated. Vox’s jaw was well and truly dropped, eyes practically bulging out of his screen. The Princess was nearly exuding rainbows. Yet, the real nail in the coffin was Angel’s wolf-whistle, calling out from across the foyer. Whatever had happened to draw the adult actor’s attention must have been truly gossip-worthy.

“What? Did I miss something?” Alastor looked around, turning back to Husk for clarification. The bartender, impossibly, was even more gobsmacked than he was a couple of moments ago. Husk’s mouth formed a quick “wow” before throwing his towel onto the counter. He quickly scurried away, mumbling something about Alastor being a “faux scary bastard” and that he “sold his soul to some fucking twink”.

Whatever that meant. Alastor was sure the latter was probably a compliment. Back when he was alive, he quite enjoyed the cream-filled snack cake. Well, as much as he could enjoy any sweet. He was more inclined to the meatier, bloodier tastes.

Before he could respond to Husk, Charlie began to squeal in delight. Alastor eyed her warily over his shoulder, preparing himself for the most obscenely ridiculous tirade.

“I told you guys he had a tail! Angel, cough up the 20!”

Alastor froze in place. Once again, he began cursing every divine being out there for deciding to give him, the cannibalistic serial killer, a fluffy little tail.

Choosing not to flee like a coward, Alastor instead let out a faint chuckle. Despite the fact that he detested his normal form, he could not show his distaste. Smile firmly plastered on, he nodded vigorously, “Yes, my dear, isn’t it just the most fascinating little thing?”

“No fucking way.” Vox whispered, staring at the lower half of the Radio Demon's body. Alastor was beginning to grow uneasy with the other’s fascination. He was also pretty sure Vox’s screen was a shade darker now, but he didn’t care enough to ask.

“Yes, yes, very absurd. I am aware. Truly a newsworthy piece of information, is it not?” Alastor sarcastically tacked the last bit on, giving the TV a condescending pat on the head. Adjusting his suit to cover the tail, Alastor snapped them all to the sitting room. He cleared his throat once before beginning, “Now, if one of you interrupts me again, I don’t care who, I will dedicate the entirety of this next week to making you history’s most titillating broadcast. Understood?”

Regardless of the menacing static accompanying his voice, it seemed none of the people in the room took his threat seriously. Angel raised his eyebrows, looking ready to blurt out some salacious comment.

Alastor shot him a dangerous look. Angel shut his mouth.

“Well then, Vox. I do believe you owe us all an explanation,” the deer demon crossed his legs, cradling a newly formed cup of espresso in his hands. If he was going to have to listen to this, he needed some caffeine.

The TV demon snapped to attention, finally clearing the fascinated look from his screen. He turned to the Princess, face morphing instead into a horribly despondent look. To anybody else it would be convincingly tragic.

Alastor, however unfortunately, knew the TV demon better than that.

His grin widened a tinge more. This should be entertaining, at the very least.

Despite Alastor’s distaste for TV, he did enjoy a good stage play every now and again.

Chapter Text

He really was not prepared for this.

Vox had figured he had given himself enough time to get in the right mindset for this. But damn, was wrong. Very, very wrong

Unfortunately, Vox could not get a… certain image out of his head. Probably because he took several screenshots of said image. But who’s really counting, right?

“Well then, Vox. I do believe you owe us all an explanation,” Alastor’s voice cut through the increasingly intense scenarios running through Vox’s head. The Radio Demon was eyeing him intently through his colored lids, hands cupping a small espresso cup.

Vox vaguely wondered if the deep red was natural or cosmetic.

Shaking his head, he reprimanded himself. There was plenty of time to think about that later. Hopefully, in a room at this very hotel, but he shouldn’t count his chickens just yet. For now, he needed to actually implement his plan. Which, funnily enough, was feeling more and more doomed the farther he got into it.

Too fuckin’ late now, he supposed.

Turning to the Princess, Vox hard reset his mainframe, hoping to get the ruminating traces of Alastor out of his mind for now. It was starting to get out-of-hand.

In order for this to work, Vox had to be a bit vulnerable. The tricky part was actually opening up. Usually, vulnerability earned him a sharp, mocking laugh or an overtly sexual innuendo. Truly no sympathy when it came to Val.

But the Princess was different, that much he knew for damn sure.

Vox cleared his throat, leaning slightly towards his audience of one. While not exactly moral, Vox happened to be particularly skilled in the subject of manipulation. While Valentino may have not been the most emotionally available, their relationship definitely aided Vox with his more… shady tactics to get what he wanted.

He had briefly considered going for a more business-savvy approach in trying to convince her. But the Princess seemed ruled by emotions. So, to emotions he’d cater.

“Listen, Charlie. You're a woman who knows people. I’m aware I’m not exactly who you would think of when you hear the words ‘penitent sinner’. I’ve definitely had my… moments,” Vox scratched the back of his neck, laughing I unsurely to himself. He eyed her discreetly, trying to gauge if the complimentary route was working. Despite her repeated nodding, Vox could tell he was losing his hook on the Princess.

Shit, he had to take it up a notch.

Spontaneously, he lunged forward, grasping her hands in his. She startled, politely giving him a smile. An uncomfortable one, but a smile nonetheless.

Vox continued, “But, I’ve heard great things about this place. Not only did you stop the Extermination, but your ah… patients have seen great improvement. Suppressed addictions, better behaviors. It truly is like a bit of Heaven made its way down here.” Vox vaguely registered Angel in the corner of his eye, flipping him off from the other couch. Vox ignored it, choosing to keep eye-contact with the Princess instead, who was now smirking confidently at her list of achievements. Taking a steadying breath, he clenched her hands unobtrusively tighter, “I’ve never been a good man, Charlie — on earth or in Hell. And…” Vox monitored Charlie’s reaction, trying to see if it was necessary for him to keep going.

He decided he’d rather be safe than sorry.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed my appearance; hard not to. I got into a bit of a fight with my, erm- partner. As you can see, I’m a bit roughed up here,” Vox chuckled half-heartedly, hoping she wouldn’t ask more questions on that particular subject. Originally, his relationship with Val was to be the crux of the plan, but he’d rather not elaborate if he didn’t have to. Not that there was really much to elaborate on. “He kicked me out and I really don’t know where to go.”

Vox sighed, shaking his head theatrically, “I don’t know. Perhaps… Perhaps all of this is just retribution for my actions. Maybe I deserve this.” The words rang eerily similar to previous thoughts of his, but Vox decided to file that particular thought away for a later time.

Vox hung his head melodramatically, releasing the Princess’ hands. Now would be the true test as to whether or not it worked.

For a scary moment, all was silent… Did he fuck up somewhere?

But then he heard a faint sniffle from across him. Hesitantly, Vox raised his screen, a pit forming in his stomach. There the Princess of Hell sat, tears falling from her eyes and snot dribbling down her face. A rush of panic hit Vox. Sitting up straighter, he scooted himself closer to the sobbing woman.

“Uh, Princess? You okay there?” Vox could hear the edge of alarm in his own voice. He attempted to stifle his worry, but the steady stream of tears turned into a damn waterfall at his words. Vox suspended his hand around her shoulders, desperately trying to figure out how to stop it.

“I told you to ca-call me Charlie… Yo-you really want to-to change?” The Prince- Charlie rubbed at her watery eyes, peering at him hopefully. Vox laughed nervously, pulling his hands back towards himself.

“Uh, yah. Yep, I do.” Vox cursed himself for his inability to handle emotions. He didn’t want to screw up the whole plan just because he couldn’t deal with a couple of tears.

Charlie stared at him, the hiccups and tears slowly morphing into misty eyes. She sat there for a moment, quietly analyzing the demon in front of her. Her eyes danced across his screen, no doubt trying to discern his expression under the cracks. Vox restrained himself from twitching under her gaze. Rubbing her face once more, Charlie finally looked ready to continue.

“Alright, then. I can see that-“

A chorus of ‘boos’ echoed from opposite Vox. He didn’t even have to look to know exactly who the culprit was. But when the opportunity presented itself…

The Radio Demon had shifted to sitting cross-cross on the sofa, presumably during Vox’s speech. The espresso cup was completely empty, leaving Alastor’s hand free to rest on his thighs. It was a shockingly adorable picture. If it wasn’t for the increasingly loud audience feedback, that is.

The next words Alastor spoke broke whatever was left of the allusion. “That was quite entertaining, my digitized fellow, I must admit. Why, I don’t think I’ve had that good a laugh since Hoover was sworn in. My god, how the times changed after that,” he chuckled heartily, swiping a tear from under his monocle.

Vox glared at the other demon, mentally shouting at him to shut his fucking mouth. Alastor shifted his eyes from Charlie to Vox’s own, somehow seeming even more cheerful. For a moment, a more analyzing look flickered on the other’s face, before quickly settling back on the relaxed joy from before.

Strange.

“And why, exactly, do you find this so funny, Alastor?” Vox spoke the other’s name with a snarl, leaning toward the radio host. Alastor, rather than backing off, leaned forward as well. Bracing his elbows on his knees, he held his head in his hands. His mouth stretched into a mocking smirk, eyes narrowing in delight.

For reasons completely unrelated, Vox took a couple more screenshots of this display.

“Well, my dear, I’m afraid your little sob story did not have quite the same effect on me as it did on Charlie,” Alastor reached over to pat her lightly on the head. Charlie grinned, embarrassed. “Predictably, I have a couple of qualms with your sudden desire for rehabilitation.”

Vox scoffed, meeting the other Overlord’s gaze head-on. He wouldn’t back down from this fight. “You can have all the problems with it that you want. Doesn’t change anything about my situation. I know my intentions and, it seems, Charlie does too.” Leaning back, Vox mumbled, “At least I’m not too pussy to actually try for redemption.”

Alastor’s smile tightened, back straightening from its previous hunch. The look in his eyes shifted from joy to repressed rage.

Vox thought it looked good on him. The old bitch needed to be put back in his place every once in a while.

Charlie sighed, massaging the sides of her head, clearly attempting to quell an oncoming headache. It was obvious this was not the first time she had to deal with Alastor’s unending bitchiness. Vox thought it was about time someone else joined the club.

“Al, I know you might have your reservations about… certain guests. But I think that he’s being genuine,” Charlie gestured toward the Vox, speaking as if he wasn’t sitting right next to her. He mentally shrugged it off. As long as she was arguing his case, he didn’t really give a damn how she did it. “This could be really big for us. An Overlord that actually wishes to change? Imagine the souls that will change their minds because of this!”

Alastor’s eyes darted between Charlie and Vox as the she pleaded her case, before his deep reds finally settled on Vox alone. The TV Demon fixed Alastor with a partially genuine grin. The other sinner’s eyebrows narrowed almost imperceptibly.

Vox knew this had to have been driving Alastor absolutely mad. Personally, the he was loving every second of it.

Alastor huffed angrily, clearly the only one who saw past the smile. Before Vox knew it, the Radio Demon appeared in front of him, hauling him up by his shirt. Distantly, Vox registered Charlie’s yelp from beside him, likely an attempt to stop what was surely going to be a fight. Rather than focusing on that, however, Vox zeroed in on how Alastor’s warm breath filled the space between them.

“Just know, my dear, that I will be watching you like a hawk. Every single move you make will be closely monitored by none other than myself. If you believe that you can pull a fast one on me, you better think again.”

Vox stared breathlessly at the other, trying to mentally catch up to the threats being made.

He couldn’t just let himself be bested like that. Not by this asshole.

He grabbed the other by the wrist, bringing him in closer. Vox’s right hand rested firmly on Alastor’s small waist, enclosing him in his arms.

Violent feedback was heard as Alastor made to step back, but not before Vox could close the gap completely. Red eyes danced frantically over Vox’s screen, seeking some kind of out.

“Now that I know you're watching so closely, I'll make sure you enjoy the view. Maybe you can return the favor later and give me a more... private show?” Vox tacked on a meaningful wink, before loosening his grip for the other to retreat.

Alastor instantly yanked his hand back as if he had been burnt, staring in incredulity at the other demon.

Shockingly, no vaguely disguised threats came from him. Alastor… had been rendered speechless. His ears were pinned back on his head, eyes widened, fittingly, like a deer in headlights. Vox was pretty damn sure the other’s cheeks were slightly more vibrant than before.

He was really hoping that wasn’t from just the aforementioned alcohol.

Charlie pulled the two apart even further, eyeing Alastor warily for any other reaction. Seemingly in the clear, she lectured the two, “You both should know this isn’t a place for fighting. Well, I guess it was a couple weeks ago but…. Whatever! You know what I mean.”

Positioning herself in front of Alastor, who was still mostly frozen, the Princess continued, “Whether you like it or not Al, he’s staying. You might be right, you might be wrong. But we’re not gonna be sure until we give him a chance. Okay?”

Alastor, who had been slowly thawing out during Charlie’s speech, nodded warily. He stared blankly past her shoulder.

“Good.” Charlie whirled now on Vox, who slightly jumped at her intensity, “Now, dinner is in an hour, so get yourself a bit cleaned up before then. While we let any and all sinners have their own place here, we also have a standard to uphold.”

Vox began to nod along to her words before they caught up to him.

“Wait. ‘Any and all’? You accept everybody? I thought there was like, a vetting process to this at least?” Vox stared dumbfounded.

“Of course not! Didn’t you read our website before coming here? Says it right on the front page, ‘Every sinner is given equal opportunity.’ I thought you were like, the Overlord of Technology, or something.”

When he really thought about it, Vox wasn’t exactly sure why he assumed there was a vetting process. Hell’s most infamous sex-worker was their first guest. And he didn’t even wanna get started on Alastor’s rap sheet, who was a pseudo-guest. Maybe that explained why, after seven months, Vox was only their third member.

At his silence, Charlie gave him a knowing smirk, shrugging her shoulders as she walked away.

Before leaving the lobby entirely she called back to Vox, “Enjoy your stay!”

Vox, still pissed, shouted back, “You really let me trauma-dump like that for no reason!?”

He faintly heard the echoes of Charlie’s cackling. Fake bitch.

The Radio and TV stars were left standing in the lobby, one stock-still and the other quietly fuming. Angel, finished recording the whole incident now that it was over, stood from his plush seat. He strode past Vox, scoffing as he passed, leaving the lobby now completely desolate. Almost.

Vox turned to address Alastor, longing to maybe get another picture in (he swore he wasn’t a stalker). But the other was nowhere to be seen.

“Well, shit. Didn’t even say goodbye, you bastard.”

Mentally, he shot a message toward one of his providers, requesting a new screen be sent to the hotel ASAP. He needed to clean up a bit before dinner.

If he was spending his time at the hotel, he might as well do it in style.

Chapter Text

The dining room was quieter than usual, Alastor detachedly noticed. The clinking of forks echoed in the space and Angel’s not-so-subtle coughing interrupted the din every now and again. For some reason, Alastor doubted the other sinner was sick. More likely than not it was an attempt to break the silence in some way. Regardless, he found the unnecessary spread of germs to be distasteful.

As the silence grew, so did the tension. The stagnant air told Alastor everything he needed to know; the tea was brewing. He quite liked the saying, even though he still wasn’t exactly sure what type of tea was being brewed. Vaggie told him he needed to stop because he’d “say it wrong” sometimes. Like that mattered. If anything, the fact that the slang bothered her made using it even more delightful.

Suddenly, Charlie cleared her throat, immediately drawing the attention of all in the room. Her fingers were linked neatly in front of her, tapping gently against her lips. The expression on her face looked almost constipated, likely fumbling with whatever newfangled redemptive idea she wanted to implement during dinner.

Finally, Charlie gathered her thoughts, nodding to herself confidently. Alastor had to admit, he was proud of her newly developed assertiveness. With a deep breath, her animated voice cleaved through the taciturn atmosphere.

“Okay, so, I know that most of you were in the lobby when our new guest arrived. He’s been a real go-getter since he got here - cleaning up nicely and coming to dinner. But I believe I should introduce him to you all again, that way you’ll feel more comfortable sharing with each other and he can feel a bit more… at home! Ladies and gentlemen of the Hazbin Hotel, this here is-“

“We all know who the fuckin’ head of the Vees is, Charlie. And I’m sure he feels perfectly comfortable whereva the hell decides to go,” Angel piped up from his seat, head propped lazily in his palm, glaring at the TV headed goon. The other’s voice was more muted than it usually was, the spider possibly nursing a hangover. He was casually picking at his greens, a rather immature habit of Angel’s Alastor had picked up on. Alastor had previously considered preparing a special plate for the other that contained more protein and less greens, but evidently decided against it. The effort the action took would outweigh any kind of reward he could get from it. That, and his momma always told him a growing boy needed his greens first and foremost. Angel was still much too thin to go without.

Tangent aside, Alastor once again focused on the scene unfolding before him. He really needed to remain grounded here, but he had never found himself to be inclined to listen to lowly sinners. He would leave that to Charlie. Alastor had to admit though, the Hotel’s inhabitants were some of Hell’s more… entertaining residents. Especially the two currently engaged in a vicious spat. Oh, how he loved drama.

Delightfully, Vaggie was very clearly visibly agitated, eyes shooting daggers in Angel’s direction. The other sinner remained unbothered, nonchalantly picking at his nails. Vaggie set down her cutlery, folding her arms.

“Listen here, you all are gonna be polite and listen to what we have to fuckin’ say. Especially, when the owner of the hotel you are staying rent-free at is speaking.” After a moment with no response, Vaggie elaborated, “I’m lookin’ at you, Angel.” The aforementioned sinner threw his hands up in the air defensively, rolling his eyes.

Alastor had been here long enough to know when a fight was coming. Sighing to himself, he made to snap out of the lobby. A shame too, he was really enjoying his crawfish.

A sharp object whizzed past his head before he could finish his gesture, momentarily distracting him. He turned to find one of Vaggie’s knives snugly fit into the wallpaper behind him.

“Nuh uh, no you don’t you little shit. You’re part of the damn problem, espantapájaros. Hell, aren’t you always?” Alastor narrowed his eyes, but made no further movement to excuse himself. Vaggie continued, grumbling, “Husk, Niffty. You’re excused if you don’t want to sit through this.”

Angel jumped up, immediately on the defensive, “What the fuck’d I do?”

“You started this shit with your comment, you stay to fuckin’ shovel it!” Vaggie shouted, pointing accusingly at him.

Husk chuckled, standing from his seat beside Angel. He casually ruffled the spider demon’s hair, shaking his head fondly as he walked away, “Good luck with this one, Legs. You comin’ Niff?”

Alastor’s darling Niffty shook her head, “I’m gonna stay for the bad boy.” Niffty’s eye zeroed in on the man across the table from her. Alastor assumed it was the TV-headed prick, which he was currently avoiding making eye-contact with under any circumstance. Regardless, he had never in his afterlife felt so off-put by Niffty’s thirsty behavior. Then again, he shouldn’t have expected anything less from the little dame.

After one more ruffle, Husk decided to make his way out. Angel flipped Husk off as he escaped, a pout forming on the spider's lips.

Alastor stared after the cat demon. He would be the first to confess his curiosity as to what occurred between Angel and Husk recently. There had been a noticeable… shift in the way they interacted. If he didn’t know any better, Alastor would have assumed they were dizzy with one another. Yet, he doubted Husk would be the kind of man to go for a moll like Angel Dust.

No offense intended to the spider, of course. Even Alastor could admit those with a profession similar to Angel’s were respectable. Not many were willing to tend towards the more… carnal urges of humanity’s worst. Fortunately, he was not one to get such urges. Perhaps that was why Husk was cozying up with Angel Dust. For some reason, Alastor vaguely hoped it was for more than just that.

He shook it off.

Vaggie’s angered tone dragged him back to the conversation. “-because I fucking told you to! Now sit!” After some consideration, Angel plopped down grumpily into his chair, shortly followed by Vaggie, who had presumably been brought to her feet during their little quarrel.

Alastor checked his pocket watch, noting the time. His food was getting cold. Quickly losing his patience, he begrudgingly turned to the individual he’d been avoiding for the last hour. “Enough of this bandying about! Why don’t we get to the subject of this conversation.”

Vox sat in his chair innocently, intently focused on the plate in front of him. It was full; not a single morsel had been touched. Not only was the other acting like nothing happened, but he had also spurned Alastor’s cooking in the process. He did his best not to feel offended. It was a near thing.

As payback, a piercing noise played through Alastor’s radio ambiance, drawing Vox’s attention up from his plate. Noticing everybody’s eyes on him, Vox quickly put down the fork he had been clenching in his hand for the past half-hour.

“What the fuck are you all lookin at me for? I’m just trying to, ah- enjoy my dinner?” Vox looked incredibly uncomfortable, voice reflexively reeking of sarcasm. Yet, despite his atrocious cover, Charlie’s excited expression told them both that she bought it. Vox glanced toward Alastor briefly, expression turning a tinge more smug. Alastor nearly left then and there, but scoldingly reminded himself of the trifle he had whipped up for himself earlier waiting patiently in the icebox. He remained seated.

Vaggie slapped a palm to her forehead, clearly already sick of the conversation, and Vox’s lame excuses, too. Charlie, practically bubbling over her seat, pushed herself further toward Vox. Her words spilled out in a rush, “You can actually eat? But you have a TV for a head? How does that work?”

Removing her hand from her forehead, Vaggie instead rested it on her lover’s shoulder. She grumbled lowly into the other’s ear, “He was being sarcastic, babe.”

Charlie sat back dejectedly, an embarrassed blush crossing her cheeks. Alastor didn't blame her. The information was news to him too.

Perhaps he wasn’t as offended about Vox’s untouched plate anymore. Regardless of this, the flat-headed freak was still an absolute grease-ball.

Angel slumped back against his seat, groaning with boredom, “Can we just get this conversation ova’ with? I’m sick a listenin’ to ya idiots. Besides, I have a date I need’ta prepare for.”

Charlie, again, perked up in her chair, ready to latch onto the new topic. However, before she could begin, Vaggie cut her off, “Yeah, sure. We’ll try to make this quick. I wanna be here even less than you do.”

Nodding sheepishly, Charlie decided to continue her girlfriend’s train of thought, “Right! Now, Alastor… I know you’re, uh, my hotelier? And I really, really appreciate what you’ve done for this hotel. But, uhmm…”

“Spit it out, dear. I’m not going to throw a temper tantrum.”

Charlie smiled halfheartedly, gathering her courage once more. When it came to Alastor, he noticed that she almost seemed as if she was walking on eggshells around him, which was absolutely absurd. Charlie, finally finding her ground, hesitantly pushed out each word, “You. Need to. Treat. Vox… nicer.”

Immediately, Alastor felt his hackles rise, “And whatever gave you the impression that I was not kind to him?”

Vaggie scoffed, gesturing wildly between the two, “Uh, I don’t know? Maybe the decades-long turf war between you two? Maybe the fact that you choose to regularly go to a tailor in the middle of his territory, despite knowing how to sew, just to bug him? Or, better yet, literally this entire afternoon!” Vaggie’s voice was practically a shout at this point. Yet, it failed in deterring Alastor. If anything, it set him off even more.

“You-“ Vaggie flinched back as his voice came out unintelligible. He needed to calm down. Alastor took a breath, calming himself, “…You really think I’d do such a thing as deliberately choose a tailor in his nearby vicinity just to gloat? That’s obsessively absurd.”

That’s also exactly what he did. Not that she needed to know.

“Okay, fine. That might have just been a coincidence. But you two are consumed with putting each other down and it needs to stop. You guys can still keep up your passive aggressive love-bombing and ghosting all you want. Just… please. Keep it civil.” Alastor’s head spun trying to follow what was being said. He was confused about the whole ‘ghosting’ thing; he thought those were debunked with the existence of Heaven and Hell. However, he didn’t want to sit through another hour’s long lecture about different slang so he kept quiet. He was still a bit curious about the ‘love-bombing’. He’d have to ask Niffty later.

However, based off the look on Vox’s face alone, Alastor understood that Vaggie’s comment was possibly meant to be a bit embarrassing for the other demon. Good.

“I find the blame to be entirely misplaced here. I am not obsessed with him at all. In fact, I hardly even think of him.” Satisfied with his response, Alastor picked up his cutlery again to continue eating.

He was contentedly sawing through his crawfish when Angel started cackling, “Oh really? And what about the picture of him in your room screams ‘not obsessed’?”

Alastor’s plate cracked down the middle, his knife sticking through it and into the table. His mind went blank for a second. He should've known Angel wasn’t just looking in Alastor’s room for his ‘lost little Nuggies’ the other day.

“Aww! No way! Angel are you sure?” Charlie’s voice increased in pitch the longer she spoke, evidently excited. Alastor was not.

“Oh, my darling Al! You have a picture of me in your room? That’s just so sweet!” Despite the drippingly sweet words, Vox’s tone was mocking.

“He definitely does, toots. I got the pics, iffin’ ya wanna see.”

Before Vox could respond Alastor finally found his voice. He strictly avoided eye-contact with the menace as he threatened, “Angel, if I get even the slightest hint that you’ve sent those photos anywhere, you will also find yourself strung up on my wall.”

Angel eyed the Radio Demon thoughtfully. It seemed like he was struggling with something internally, likely deciding whether his comment was worth the pain that might ensue.

He came to a conclusion.

“Mhmm. Kinky,” Angel wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, voice coming out in a murmur.

Alastor snarled, the smile on his face becoming tighter with rage. Regardless of Charlie’s wishes, he might need to excuse himself. That is, if she still wanted to keep the hotel violence-free.

Before he could recuperate, Vox’s voice rang out from his left, “I guess I can’t help it if my fans want to keep some merchandise. Maybe I could get something signed for you, Al? Just make sure you’re not too naughty with it. I can’t be giving you any replace-”

“That’s enough.”

The lights flickered in the room as the Radio Demon stood. Vox, rather than backing down, eagerly rose to the challenge. Alastor felt the presence of his tentacles rising behind him, his bloodthirsty nature unfolding along with them. In turn, the other unleashed his cables, the fat grin on his screen growing bigger and brighter by the second.

Alastor would make this freaky, little-

Suddenly, a much stronger power filled the area. Charlie’s hair whipped wildly as she commanded respect, “Boys! Down! Both of you!” The two were dragged down into their seats by an unknown force, pushed harshly towards the table. Alastor’s ribs smashed into its edge, causing him to wince slightly at the lingering pain incurred during the rebellion.

“Oops! Sorry, Al, my bad. Didn’t mean to- Anyways!” Charlie, momentarily apologetic, continued fiercely, “You two just proved what we were saying. Neither of you can stand to be humbled and that’s an issue. So, either you start playing nice, or we start taking privileges.”

Alastor noticed the amused look on Vox’s face. The coward no doubt thought this was all a big joke. Alastor, however, who had witnessed the sheer force of Charlie’s anger, decided to begrudgingly comply. He didn’t need his tower privelages to be revoked again.

“...Of course, my dear. I’ll try to be more… accommodating. And Vox will do the very same? Isn’t that right, Vox?” Alastor glared meaningfully, attempting to queue in the other.

A confused expression flickered across Vox’s screen, before he caught on. “Sure thing. As I said, I don’t got a single problem with this ol’ fossil.” The other’s smile was noticeably strained while saying this, giving Alastor a hint of satisfaction. Which was subsequently stripped from him with Vox’s next comment, “Besides, it would be bad press if I turned away my fans, wouldn’t it?”

Alastor’s laugh pierced the room, mayhaps a smidge too loud based on everyone’s combined flinch. Besides Vox, who remained undeterred. “You are such a jokester, my friend. Quite a riot! You always were a clown back when we ran in the same circles, weren’t you? A bit of a laughing-stock, really! Seems like much hasn’t changed, has it?”

The two stared at each other for a beat, both barely holding back their rage. Alastor, who had had enough tit-for-tat and knew just how far he could push it, cleared his throat, “Well, dinner was fabulous, my dears! I truly out-did myself in welcoming this flat-screened fool, didn’t I?” Without waiting for a response, Alastor prattled on, “Thank you all for the wonderful conversation. I believe Vox and I will get started on finding him a room and making amends – all that blubbery nonsense. Does that sound… okay to you, Charlie?”

Charlie looked taken aback, surprised at the complete reversal in behavior. “Uhh, sure, but make sure you-“

“Great! Good night everybody! Be sure you all catch a good wink tonight; tomorrow is a very busy day!” Alastor played what was likely to be an obnoxiously loud snoring sound before disappearing deep into the hotel’s halls, Vox in tow.

Once he was settled, Alastor pounced on the other, who was still looking a bit disorientated with the sudden transport. The Radio Demon pushed the other against the wall, pinning him down by his shoulders. Vox startled slightly, eyes widening at the man above him.

Alastor leaned in close, hissing into what was approximately the other’s ears, “You and I will play nice for now, got it? I will not let our back-burner rivalry keep me from getting what I need. You may think that this is all some sort of game, but it is not, I ensure you. I will not let you fuck this up for me, got it?”

Alastor peered into the other’s screen, searching for some kind of response. The last thing he needed was for the feud between the two of them to give Charlie second thoughts in letting him into the Hotel. Alastor could now see his mistakes. Previously, he had considered Vox to be like a raccoon, something that returned every now and again for scraps of attention. When the stakes were low, Alastor had been willing to entertain.

Unfortunately, once you feed a raccoon, it will unfailingly come back.

Vox’s expression was inexplicably intrigued, possibly satisfied that he was being fed by Alastor once more. His voice came out in a purr, “I got you, don’t worry. I’m not the one who has to worry about convincing Little Miss Bleeding-Fucking-Heart, am I? You need to sort out whatever superiority issues you’ve got going on here. Then, all will be peachy, won’t it?”

Alastor felt his ears unwittingly pin back on his head, a snarl momentarily gracing his features. He hated to admit it, but Vox was right. The other sinner wasn’t the problem here. If he wanted Charlie to think all was well, he would need to… behave.

The Radio Demon released the other, taking a step back. Vox filled the gap, somehow looming over Alastor despite their similar heights. His screen was disturbingly bright in the darkened halls, nearly blinding Alastor with its intensity.

Impossibly, a smile somehow managed to still be on Alastor’s lips, despite the bitterness tingeing his next words. “I suppose I’ll see myself to my room. Make yourself comfortable in any of these chambers. Just let me know where you decide to settle.”

Alastor swiftly turned, his grin, terrifyingly, almost dropping. He needed to gather himself and quick. However, as he went to turn the corner, Vox called out once more to him.

“Goodnight, Alastor. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow!”

The Radio Demon didn’t reply.

The further he walked down the hall and away from Vox, the more and more it felt like a retreat.

Chapter Text

The darkness of night spilled through Vox’s window, the glow of his screen doing little to combat it. While he wasn’t necessarily scared of the dark, he always found himself a little put off by it. He was so used to the endless flashing, bright lights of his district desperate for attention. All of it was carefully modulated in order to capture a client’s attention with a well-placed ad. In comparison, the quiet dim of the hotel was staggering.

Besides that, Vox had always had a hard time falling asleep. Even in his earthly life, before the flatscreen that forced him to constantly lay on his back if he wanted any shuteye, he was a bit of an insomniac. More often than not, he would chock it up to the endless worry about maintaining his ever-climbing popularity. Despite the desperate women that would occasionally warm his bed or the countless pills he took, sleep was always just out of his grasp.

It was fitting that his insomnia would follow him into his afterlife. His actions above quite honestly warranted it.

Vox glanced at his alarm clock, confirming he had been laying there for hours, detachedly noticing the footsteps outside by his door. With a huff, Vox gave up and snatched his phone. He casually scrolled on his socials, shooting Velvette a few catch-up texts, because, no, he wasn’t dead. Just distracted.

Once bored of that, he turned to the ceiling and counted the seconds away with the obnoxiously loud clock in his room. The patterns on the roof danced in his vision, swimming together in the darkness. He wasn’t sure if the sleep deprivation was finally getting to him, or Alastor was just fucking with him. Somehow.

And again, his thoughts wandered back to Alastor. Vox hated to admit it, but he had missed the antagonism between himself and Alastor during the latter’s several years of isolation. It was kind of nice to take his pent-up anger out on someone. That was probably unhealthy… but he doubted Alastor minded much.

He still wasn’t drowsy.

Vox pushed himself up from his bed, comforter haphazardly dropping to the floor. Rather than taking the time to fix it, he decided to wander.

Swinging open his bedroom door, the oppressive darkness fled from the dim hall lights. His feet led him down the hall, one dutifully following the other. He lumbered down the stairs he had climbed earlier, lamenting his decision to leave his comfy bed already. The entryway was vacant, all lights shut off.

Casually, Vox meandered over to the sofa in which he sat earlier this afternoon, recalling the unnecessary precautions he took to be allowed in.

This would undoubtedly be the last time he let Velvette come up with a plan.

He plopped down on the couch, a groan escaping him. What a nightmare. He was lucky that Charlie was naive enough to see the “good” in him. Vox actually kind of liked her, even beyond her unintentional aid of his plan. Her attitude was a rare sight in Hell. Maybe it was because she had been here her whole life. Vox vaguely wondered if perhaps Earth was the problem, not Hell. Most of the hellborn he met were wildly kinder than sinners, strangely enough.

Despite himself, Vox’s mind drifted back to a specific sinner. Long, red hair and sharp teeth infiltrated his thoughts, bringing him back to their heated conversation a few hours ago.

It seemed like a dream. Every time he was that close to Alastor, Vox would feel his mainframe freeze for a moment. He had run his diagnostics after their spat, wondering what exactly was getting him so stuck. Earlier, he hadn’t come up with anything. Now, however, as he sat there out of his element and sleep-deprived, a thought drifted to his head.

Maybe… he didn’t hate him.

Vox jolted upwards, shaking himself awake again. He couldn’t have just thought that, could he? Decades of rivalry and a crushed companionship for what? The two of them to make amends and forget about their spotty past? Let bygones be bygones and walk off happily into the sunset?

Definitely not… right?

It didn’t really matter. Vox had already tried that before. He recalled with shocking clarity the sharp laugh he had received from Alastor in response to proposing a partnership. Before the Vees. Before his relationship with Valentino. Before… before his life went to utter shit.

He could wish all he wanted, but that time was gone and never coming back. Probably for the best really. Vox couldn’t go crawling to Alastor like a pussy and begging for a truce. That would be defeat. That would be unacceptable.

Making his way to his feet, Vox sauntered to the dining room. He had always been a pacer.

Vox needed to focus on his reason for being here. He wanted to crush Alastor! He was Vox, the Tech Overlord of Hell. He wouldn’t just let some smiling freak turn him down and get away with it.

Thinking back on the afternoon, Vox went over all the intel he had managed to collect.

Alastor was clearly here for a reason, one that Vox could potentially fuck up. Perfect. Yet, the more he pondered it, the more implausible it seemed. Vox would have to start small to avoid detection. Alastor’s secret seemed to be safely guarded and his chances of finding out what it was were little to none.

“Besides,” Vox murmured to himself. “What fun is a nemesis if you completely grind them into the ground.” He nodded to himself, before wincing at the suggestive nature of his words.

Wandering towards what he presumed was the kitchen, an idea struck Vox. Earlier, when he had grabbed the other by the wrist, Alastor had been stone-still for the rest of the conversation. Even after, he wouldn’t make eye contact with Vox, no matter how many times he would obviously flash his screen at the other.

So… was that it? He just had to… what? Touch Alastor?

Vox snorted to himself, rounding the corner into the kitchen. It sounded stupid, but for good measure…

He stopped in his tracks.

A familiar head of vibrant, fiery hair stood over the oven, contentedly stirring a pot of… something. Vox would be the first to admit he wasn’t much of a cook. Go figure.

Vox scolded himself quietly; how he hadn’t heard the soft radio minutes before was beyond him. He eyed the other for a moment, taking in the slim waist cinched by an apron. His eyes wandered further down, before catching himself with a quick shake of the head. If Vox kept up like this, their rivalry might unintentionally morph into something else.

Not that Vox would mind.

He made to turn back around, satisfied for the night, when a low humming began.

Alastor’s melodic tone carried throughout the kitchen, following dutifully along with the lilting song. It was almost… hypnotic. Vox found himself stepping closer, wanting to hear the song in question. As he slowly edged closer to the other, he noticed the lack of an iconic blood-red coat, sleeves rolled up to display pitch black skin. The darkness crept up the other’s forearms, contrasting nicely with the pale skin elsewhere on the demon. Furthermore, Alastor’s hair was neatly tied into a small bun at the base of his neck, displaying the long curves of his throat. Almost subconsciously, Vox began to record the other, before quickly stopping because, fuck, was that creepy. He had already shown his hand to Alastor about his physical attraction to the other; no need to add video evidence to attest.

Once more, Vox tried to force himself to leave before the music volume lowered, stopping the overlord in his tracks.

“You don’t have to linger in the doorway, darling.” Alastor’s voice rang in the air, drowning out the quieter melody he had been singing along to. He turned to Vox, a calm smile plastered on his face. “If you’re going to annoy me, I suggest you try to do so without startling me. Who knows what might have happened if you had caught me off-guard.”

Vox tried not to linger too long on the possible implications of Alastor’s words. Inexplicably, he found himself inching closer to the other. Alastor’s smile was imperceptibly tinged with distaste. Shockingly, he stepped aside to make more room for Vox.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Vox filled the empty space. He perhaps pushed a bit too far in leaning against the other’s shoulder, as he was instantly met with static.

Maybe Vox had been onto something earlier. Touching was clearly a.. touchy issue. No pun intended.

“So, what exactly are we cooking up over here? Venison?” Vox teased, expecting immediate pushback at the notion. However, Alastor simply nodded, fishing a chunk of meat out with his ladle. He plucked it gracefully out of the spoon.

“Yes, my friend. Venison does typically shake out to be my meat of choice in cooking!” Alastor plopped the morsel into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. He made a delighted hum, clearly happy with his food. Alastor licked his lips, cleaning them of any remaining juices. Vox tried really hard not to stare. He probably failed, if the newfound smugness in Alastor’s expression was any indicator.

“I’m sorry, but, the fuck? You actually eat venison…” Vox trailed off, deciding halfway through that it was just another oddity to the other. Alastor, apparently, felt the same, as he continued moving around the kitchen. He seemed to be incredibly familiar with the space, bouncing between the cabinets with ease.

Conceding that he was now locked into this conversation, Vox took a seat on a nearby barstool, quietly observing the other sinner in his element. Usually, Vox tended to take center-stage in everything he did. However, there was something about Alastor that made him more willing to take a backseat.

Alastor bumped a cabinet closed with his hip, arms full of what looked like flour and sugar. He turned, staring at Vox for a moment. “Was there anything in particular you were looking to talk about? Last I checked, the temporary truce between us did not require any extra bonding time.” Alastor spat the last words out, before proceeding with his dish.

For a moment, the silence stretched between the two, Vox uncharacteristically diffident in this conversation. Something had been bothering him since this evening; yet, he knew if he broached the topic he was likely to get his screen punched in.

Well. Fuck it.

Fidegeting slightly in his seat, Vox plunged forward with his question, “So, you said something earlier about not wanting me to ‘fuck this up’ for you. I don’t need all the details obviously, and I don’t really expect you to give them, the prick that you are. But… if you expect me not to royally screw something up, I need to at least know what I’m avoiding. Otherwise, I will probably fuck it up seven times over,” Vox drawled in an attempt to coerce the other, leaning across the countertop. He braced his screen gracefully in his hands, giving the other his most placatingly sheepish grin.

“Ha! Absolutely not,” Alastor cackled, increasing his focus on his baking. A tense look crossed the other’s face, clearly disliking where the conversation was heading. Not that Vox gave a damn.

“What! Why? I’m literally the only person here who can actually help you with this shit! You obviously already know I’m not here for the ‘redemption’ bullshit!” Desperately gesturing to the hotel around them, Vox let his thoughts spill before he could catch up to them. He was unexpectedly upset at Alastor’s lack of trust in him. Vox hadn’t really done much to gain it, but surely their past meant something?

Alastor whirled on the other, stepping in as close as the counter between them would allow. “Then why exactly are you here? To try and screw me over? You might think that you're slick, Vox. I assure you, you are anything but.”

Vox stared at the other. While Alastor was dead on the money, Vox still felt a little… off about the other’s perception of him. Yeah, he was definitely here to ensure Alastor's demise. However, he began to think that maybe the long-haul would be more… entertaining? That word didn’t seem right.

Vox found himself longing to be around the other. Perhaps that’s why he’d gotten out of bed in the first place.

“C’mon Al! Doesn’t now seem like a good time to have a partner? I may not be the catalyst for your plan, but I can sure as hell be the tipping point.”

Alastor’s eye twitched almost imperceptibly. He turned, switching off the stovetop and placing the pot to the side to cool. After wiping his hands on his apron and taking a deep breath, he turned back to Vox. For a moment, Alastor’s smile was conflicted, searching Vox’s screen for any manipulation. The almost thoughtful look threw Vox for a loop, who was expecting a succinct “no”.

Suddenly, Alastor rounded back to his work station, the previously muted music now swelling louder than before.

“You are even more of a comedian than I thought if you really figured that I, the Radio Demon, would willingly tell my enemy about my vulnerabilities,” Alastor chuckled condescendingly, chopping away at some celery before carelessly tossing the chopped veggies into the pot.

For a moment, Vox felt unreasonably hurt. Why did Alastor’s rejection sting so bad? It wasn’t as if this were a new feeling.

Vox was about to crawl back to his room and sulk under his sheets for the rest of the night when Alastor’s sigh pierced the air once more. This time, the other Overlord seemed more genuine. If Vox didn’t know any better, his voice might have been… tinged with regret? “Yet, I suppose if things get too dire, you could possibly provide some assistance to me.” Alastor stubbornly avoided eye contact, fussing with the dish in front of him. Vox’s heart swelled. The deer demon continued bitterly after a moment, “That is, if you can get away from your domestic spats with your foolish lover long enough to contribute to what I have set up here.”

Despite the cold nature of the comment on his relationship, Vox felt strangely warmed by it. While it was certain this was part of the other’s plot to catch him off guard, the thought of it perhaps being genuine might have been more than Vox could handle. Also, since when did Alastor know that he was now in a relationship? Vox felt his screen heat a bit recalling the supposed photo in Al’s room. Maybe Vox’s so-called ‘obsession’ wasn’t so one-sided?

Thankfully, Alastor was a chatty little shit and kept talking.

“Now, now. Enough of this blather. Are you going to sit there all night and do nothing? I’ve still got a few more dishes to prepare before dawn, so either you get out of my space or get cracking, good fellow!”

That confirmed it. Vox had another shot at… whatever they had before.

He stood from his stool, nearly knocking it over in the process, and moved excitedly to where Radio Demon directed him. The look in Alastor’s eyes was almost nostalgically fond, once more warming Vox to the core.

Alastor’s finger tapped lightly on Vox's screen, drawing his attention to the carrot held before him.

“Now, this should be relatively simple. I doubt that even you could confound this task,” Alastor gestured toward Vox with an extremely sharp cutting knife, spurring him to jump back. If he had just been a few seconds late in his retreat, Vox was sure the knife would have made contact with something besides the air. Alastor’s eyes danced wildly, queuing him in that he was probably right.

And here Vox was thinking they were having a moment! Then again, violence was always the other’s method of showing compassion.

“Okay, what the fuck?! You could at least warn a guy.” Vox glared, begrudgingly swiping the knife from the other’s grasp.

“What would be the fun in that, then?” Alastor huffed in an exaggeratory fashion, acting as if he had sat through this same lecture time-and-time again. Knowing his old friend’s track record, Vox figured that wasn’t far off from the truth. The smug bastard… Maybe now would be time to enact some payback?

Vox grinned, recalling his plan from earlier. He could pull it off, especially in light of their recently established… camaraderie? If Vox could really call it that.

Point being, Alastor really couldn’t kill him now, even if Vox acted like a little shit.

He began on his task, dutifully cutting the carrots into, admittedly ugly, pieces. Alastor looked as if he was about to protest, a tortured look on his face at the imprecise mess. However, the bubbling from a pot behind him caught his attention, setting Vox up perfectly.

Humming to himself, Vox stood at his station for a moment to divert suspicion. Some time passed and, thankfully, Alastor was still busy with dessert. From the looks of it, the dish seemed to be some kind of pudding? If Vox had a mouth, he’s sure it would be watering.

Throwing caution to the wind, he snuck towards the oblivious sinner. He lowered the brightness on his screen, praying the lilting song would drown out his footsteps as well. Vox slowly reached out, hands hovering shakily in the air surrounding Alastor’s waist.

When the time was right — that is, when Alastor once again commenced his singing — Vox suddenly grabbed the other by the waist, yelping into his ear in an attempt to scare him.

Shockingly, the other actually startled. Alastor jumped in place, nearly sticking his horns through Vox’s screen. His ears pinned back on his head and his eyes widened into that wild look again. Alastor seemed to be, once more, stuck in that freeze.

Vox released Alastor almost as quickly as he had grasped him, doubling over in a fit of laughter.

This time, the duration of the other’s stillness was much shorter. Alastor shot Vox his most unimpressed glare, clearly not at all entertained by the prank.

“Ha! You should have seen your fucking face! Absolutely PRICELESS. Doesn’t feel so good to be the one snuck up on, huh?” Vox righted himself after a few more giggles, taking in the other’s expression. Alastor’s face was relatively blank, the only signs of annoyance being his quirked brow and twitching crimson eye. Vox swelled with pride, knowing the expression was caused by him alone.

Alastor’s smirk deepened at Vox’s words, “You may find it funny now, but I won’t let this slide. When you are most vulnerable, I will be waiting in the shadows… I will get revenge.”

Although Vox didn’t doubt this, he somehow found himself no longer intimidated by the other demon. He knew one of Alastor’s weaknesses and, hopefully, he would witness more with time. That, and Alastor’s threats were getting a bit redundant.

“Sure ya will. Now, Bambi. Mind showing me how you cut this shit?”

Alastor stared at the other demon, looking, for all intents and purposes, dumb-founded. He readjusted his monocle from where it had fallen, perhaps taking a second to gather himself, before shoving Vox to the side.

“I suppose I might as well teach you one worthwhile skill so you’re not completely useless. Now listen up, dear. I’ll only tell you this once…” Vox thoughtlessly followed along with the other’s meaningless movements and words. He knew none of it would stick and he really didn’t know if he wanted it to.

Then, maybe, Vox could be with Alastor like this again, learning this garbage. Like before, he could listen to the other ramble about insignificant hobbies and overly-complicated dishes.

Taken aback by his musings, the Overlord scoffed quietly to himself.

What a joke. Alastor was right; Vox really was a fool. He had let himself slide back into the Radio Demon’s presence. Their rivalrous companionship felt comfortable to him. Once more, he was reminded of feelings he had presumed were lost to time.

There was no escaping the truth now. Vox had handed himself over to Alastor on a silver platter.

He didn’t regret it in the slightest.