Chapter Text
“I’m giving you a choice, Vox.”
The words were not gentle, and Alastor had clearly been mad. His red eyes narrowed, glowing in the dim light as they looked at each other. The Radio demon cocked his head to the side, examining Vox.
“A choice? Alastor, what are you talking about? If it’s about my dealings with Valentino-”
“It is.”
“You have already voiced your disapproval. And I already told you that your opinions on it isn’t going to affect my decision here.” Vox stepped forward, holding a hand out to Alastor. Alastor stared at it for a moment before placing his hand in his.
“If you continue down this path, Vox, you and I will find ourselves on opposite sides.” His grip tightened on Vox’s hand, nails digging into his skin slightly. “I will not hesitate to fight you.”
Vox stared at him, silent. “You’re giving me an ultimatum.”
“Yes.”
Vox doesn’t get many visitors. It’s how he prefers it, honestly. It’s been seven long years since his husband disappeared. He had at first thought the other just forgot to tell him where he was going, but Alastor never came home.
He called everyone, starting with those in cannibal town who the radio demon was rather close too. Even Rosie had no idea where he went, with her comforting him through a near breakdown and softly telling him that no angel could easily deal with Alastor. That he must have his reasons.
He even called Husk, one of the souls that Alastor owns. Husk had muttered something that Vox wanted to kill him for before he told him, “I don’t fuckin’ know. You think he tells any of us what he fuckin’ does with his time?”
It was a fair point.
Perhaps, that’s why he was surprised at the soft knock on the door. Eerie and ominous, it had continued. Relentless, steady. As if the person expected to be let in. Vox grumbles under his breath as he makes his way to the door.
He practically throws it open, opening his mouth to yell at the person on the other side. He freezes up slightly and stares at the familiar face, the familiar smile.
“Hell-”
A slap echoes through their shared home. Alastor’s head snaps to the side, and he’s silent for a moment. Vox stares at him quietly, his right hand in the air and his left trembling at his side. He takes a deep breath.
“Y-you pri-ick. I thought you died on me!” The tech head snaps, slowly lowering his hand as he stares at Alastor. His eyes are narrowed as he watches him, waiting for him to say something. To do something.
“No ‘welcome home’? I thought that after all this time you’d have missed me.” Alastor says with a smile on his face as he does so. That damned smile, the one that would greet Vox for years.
The one he’s been missing for years.
“You fucking up and left me Alastor. You could have died- or just…” Abandoned him. That had seemed like such an unlikely possibility. Vox grieved the other, put the cheap but sturdy ring on a chain that he wears everywhere.
“I would not have abandoned you.” His smile turns from the happy, almost amused one that he wore earlier to something softer.
“Kind of fucking hard to believe when you disappear for seven years without a word and then suddenly reappear.” Vox grumbles out, though his gaze softens when he sees Alastor’s ring, still prominently displayed on his hand.
“I assure you, Vox,” he moves closer to him, offering his left hand to Vox. The other’s gaze turns to his hand. He’s silent for a moment, studying the peace offering. He gently takes Alastor’s hand, squeezing it. His claws dig into Alastor’s hand slightly. He’s quiet for a moment as he holds it tightly.
Vox is not a weak man. He will not admit to, or show weakness often. Forget about being vulnerable too. He refuses to let others know when his control slips. When he can’t keep his iron grip on the situation, steering it to the outcome he wants.
He doesn’t need to show that to Alastor.
The other has always had that eagle eye- he’s always been good when it comes to noticing things like that. Perhaps that’s why he’s such a good overlord- he sees someone’s weaknesses- and he manages to pray on it.
But with Vox, that has never been the case.
Alastor spotted his weaknesses, sure. He’s always been able to do that. But he doesn’t point it out, manipulating him to his advantage. He uses this ability of his to help Vox through whatever he feels. It’s something Vox almost wishes he could cuss Alastor out for, but it truly is a useful skill… for the radio demon, at least.
“I didn’t abandon you.” Alastor murmurs softly to him. “I had something to take care of… I didn’t expect it to take so long.” He keeps it vague, causing Vox’s eyebrows to furrow.
“You’re not going to tell me where you went, are you?” He asks.
“You know me too well, my dear.”
“Will you at least tell me why?” He pushes, his left eye widening slightly, his right eye narrowing. But Alastor merely glances off to the side with a slight chuckle.
“In due time, my dear. For now, I want to hear everything that you’ve been up to.” Alastor lets go of his hand after a moment, glancing down to the slightly ruined glove and deciding to repair or toss it later. Whatever ends up being easier, he supposes.
Vox hesitates. He looks Alastor in the eyes, searching them quietly. A million questions are asked in that one look, a million things that Vox desperately wants the answer to. Yet, as Alastor looks back at him, his smile in place, Vox finds himself only able to get one answer.
He’ll know when Alastor decides he needs to.
He breaks their gaze, a soft sigh leaving him. “Fine. I’m going to be upfront with you, Alastor, I don’t like this. You disappear for seven years. You don’t even leave me a fucking note. That shit hurts.” He doesn’t move away from the hand that finds itself on Vox’s shoulder. “You suddenly come back- fucking- expecting me to let you move back in? Let you back into my life without- without any hesitation?”
“I don’t expect it. But I do know you, dearest. I know what makes you tick. And we both know we are far too attached to each other for you to turn me away without at least letting this play out a little.” Alastor looks up at him. “Even if only to satisfy your own curiosity.”
“Sometimes, I feel like meeting and marrying you is my own personal form of Hell.”
“Quite.”
Alastor gently squeezes his shoulder. “For better or worse, you and I are attached to each other. Far too intrigued to give the other up, waiting to see if we’ll ultimately end up destroying each other.” Vox knows better. Alastor’s slightly widened smile, the way he keeps contact. It’s not a threat.
They both trust each other with their lives. They’re far too attached at this point, having been through too much. Yet, as Vox wonders where Alastor went, he knows exactly why this is his own Hell. One of his own creation.
They are stuck together, for as long as their damnation can last. For better or for worse, they are far too attached to each other. Vox wouldn’t have it any other way.