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Valentine’s Day in Hell was a holiday left uncelebrated by most demons, as love was a scarce commodity that most never got the joy of experiencing. Down in the depths of this infernal blaze, sinners reveled in the freedom of choice and, consequently, often vouched for the more violent and depraved side of their pitiful afterlife. There were very few citizens who still retained a sense of normalcy and formality after their mortal doom, but who could blame them for taking advantage of the cards dealt? What use was there to trouble yourself with such frivolous, unnecessary drivel when a greater purpose was clear? Alastor hardly understood why he suddenly found himself so invested in this nonsensical holiday after years of ignoring its very existence, but didn’t quite mind the refreshing change of pace.
It was actually rather nice to walk around Pride without starting a scene for once, though many sinners still glanced at him warily when passing by. They were all rightfully put off by Alastor’s uncharacteristic sense of jubilance, unanimously agreeing through their thoughts that he must’ve had something ghastly planned in order to be this blatantly jolly. Despite the stupid grin plastered on this overlord’s face at every waking moment, this was the first instance of the expression being genuine that most demons had ever seen. The sight was downright terrifying.
Through bated breaths, the denizens of Hell watched as the stag stalked down the cracked sidewalk, staff clasped tightly within sharp, reddened claws. Alastor’s long arms were folded neatly behind his back, resting just above the jutting, ragged curve of his triangular coattails, barely held together with messy seams. The tail hidden just underneath the torn cloth swished back and forth like that of an old hound, slow, but very clear in its intent. There wasn’t a shred of trickery held in his eyes, pupils pulsing between shades of scarlet and carmine- occasionally dipping into bright, dazzling shades of ruby. The feelings expressed through his pinprick irises could only be described as soft and approachable, which stood out as such a harsh contrast to his usual personality.
The clump of sinners that had been so rudely spying on Alastor dispersed after the overlord rounded the corner, returning to their usual schedules as if they hadn’t been creeping upon his day at all. The Radio Demon didn’t make a fuss, acting as if he didn’t notice the attention thrown his way, or rather, actively chose to ignore it. There was very little he’d be bothered by at this point.
After giving his surroundings a quick once-over, Alastor began to hum an old melody, passing lines upon lines of large, towering buildings, each forged from a mixture of sleek, smooth metals and shiny, well-kempt glass. This particular division of Pride was home to the more advanced of society- a technological sector with an extremely futuristic aesthetic, if you will. Al wasn’t particularly fond of staying around this place, but he had a rather important task that required his presence here.
Soon enough, the lanky overlord stopped in his tracks, standing before a dazzling example of brilliant architecture; a blackened tower that reached miles into the reddened sky like a demonic skyscraper. The shape of it was mostly rectangular, though the neon blue patterns that adorned each side were very abstract and unique in form, contrasting quite well next to the dark metals. Many of its walls were completely made of tempered glass, tinted like the windows of a fancy limousine. Alastor thought this to be a rather idiotic design choice for a building in Hell of all places, where guns were in a more-than-steady supply. It wasn’t his place to say this, of course, but he just loved to critique the excessiveness each time he visited.
The Radio Demon sighed and approached the looming heights of the building’s entrance, the enormities that were its doors each engraved with instances of the letter ‘V’, thickly lined and colored the same shade as the surrounding patterns. How tacky and egocentric- same as it’s always been. Alastor ignored these details and pressed a button just to the right of him, his ears twitching from the resounding ‘ding’ this action earned him. Quickly, the elevator was called down and the doors separated, inviting the deer into the comforting depths of this mechanical mouth. He did not hesitate before entering, much too eager to visit his old pal on such a special occasion.
Despite the ridiculous amount of floors this building had, the upward ride hardly lasted a minute before, with a jolt, the metal box opened its doors once more. Alastor was instantly greeted by the familiar sight of a cozy, yet cluttered, living area, overdecorated and unbearably bright in its horrific color palette. Vox was far too fond of the neon blues and reds, clearly, if he had to use the same 3 shades for every damn thing he owned and built. It was nearly enough to give Alastor a constant migraine, but now was not the time for complaining and nitpicking! It was the time for...love?
Yes- that’s what it was. Love.
Since the stag didn’t immediately spot the chap wandering about his quarters, he could only assume that his lazy tush was still in bed, fast asleep. Tut tut tut- that simply wouldn’t do! Alastor made his way across the living room, occasionally straightening something that felt messy or out-of-place, even picking up a few articles of old clothing that had been haphazardly tossed around while he was at it. Vox had never been a very tidy man, which still greatly annoyed him, but never seemed to change. His insistent griping never really got through that thick, plastic screen of his, but luckily Alastor was kind enough to clean up his messes on the occasion that he was here to do so. What would Vox ever do without him?
Once those clothes were disposed of in their proper baskets, the deer would let himself into the TV demon’s bedroom, picking the lock with one of his long, sharpened fingers like a professional criminal. The door would be eased open slowly, as to prevent any intrusive creaks or whines the aged hinges might have made otherwise. After poking his head inside, Alastor’s signature smile widened at the sight awaiting his prying eyes, gazing fondly at the soft mound upon the bed. There Vox was, cuddled underneath a pile of thick blankets, messily strewn about the mattress in heaps of multicolored cloth. Only the bulky shape of his screen and top half of his thin torso remained in plain sight, giving the deer a nice view of his displaced top, shoved so far up his chest that delicate, rubbery flesh was showing.
Alastor clicked his tongue and pushed the door all the way open, striding over to hover near the edge of Vox’s sizable bed. His hand came down with a certain gentleness, tugging Vox’s shirt back down over the exposed skin for modesty’s sake. He didn’t want his favorite demon catching a cold, after all!
Immediately following this act of kindness, he eased himself into the space adjacent to the Media Overlord, lying down on top of the covers in such a close proximity that their arms nearly rubbed against one another. Alastor was planning on simply waiting for Vox to wake up on his own, but the longer he laid there in complete silence, the more restless he became. It seemed like years that he’d been resting there, when in reality, it hadn’t even been five minutes. Clearly, he was too impatient for this game. Without skipping a beat, he reached over and took hold of one of the antennas jutting from Vox’s head, curling his fingers around its length and giving the thing one good, hard tug.
That did just the trick! In mere milliseconds, the TV came to life and yelped, his screen lighting up and displaying the usual projection of his face; that of a deep bluish gray surrounded by large, crimson eyes and cerulean teeth. Vox’s body let off defensive sparks that stung Alastor’s hand and sent a surge of energy through the room, causing the lights to flicker for the briefest of intervals. He recoiled, shaking off the residual sparks as Vox's mechanical body FINALLY fully rebooted, earning the deer a rather rude, somewhat miffed stare.
Without uttering a word, the TV turned and glanced over at the clock, checking the current time in order to prove a point. It read as expected, since it was still rather early in the morning. While Vox usually took great pleasure in Alastor’s company, this was completely unannounced and rather intrusive, though it would’ve been a little hypocritical to criticize that in particular.
”Alastor. It’s only 8 AM. The fuck are you doing in my room?” He glanced at the door, narrowing his eyes at the sudden realization. “Did you pick the lock again? I literally just had them changed! I’ve told you a million times already to call me before showing up, you lanky little p-”
Alastor pressed a finger to Vox’s mouth to abruptly silence him, chuckling at the defensive attitude he was so proudly showing off. It was almost cute, in a strange, endearing sort of way. “My dear, that little cellular device you gifted me was disposed of MONTHS ago! You must think me a fool, assuming I’d be caught dead or alive with a trinket like that.”
”Excuse me? THAT PHONE WAS THE NEWEST MODEL AVAILABLE IN OUR STORES, YOU GANGLY FUCKIN’ TWINK!! YOU SAID YOU LIKED IT WHEN I GAVE IT TO YOU! Now you’re telling me you THREW IT AWAY?”
Alastor shrugged. “It’s not as if I didn’t try it out first! I had to see what all the excitement was about, after all. I must admit, it was a rather underwhelming experience. There was nothing on it but a black square!”
”Did you try turning it on?”
”What ever do you mean? All the phones I’ve ever handled were always on!”
”Yeah, cause they were OLD, SHITTY LANDLINE PHONES. You have to actually hit the power button on a cell before they do anything, idiot.”
Alastor rolled his eyes at the hostility and gave a dismissive wave, flicking a few strands of reddened hair out of his eyes. “Well, perhaps you should’ve informed me of this before gifting the damn thing. You can hardly fault me for that.”
Before Vox could respond, the stag was talking again, continuously pressing himself closer to the Media Overlord until their chests were about an inch from touching. His reddened eyes curiously scanned the TV’s expression, which became suddenly flushed with a deep shade of teal.
”But that is besides the point! The entire reason I came here and kindly invited myself into your abode was for a celebration! A sort of tradition, if you will, that happens every year on this particular date.” Alastor blinked expectantly. “You do know what day it is, yes?”
”Yeah, sure. February 14th. What’s so special about it?” Vox stared at Alastor, his deadpan expression never once betraying his words. He was being genuinely serious, and didn’t remember what holiday, if any, fell on this day. What an ignorant buffoon.
Alastor could only groan, taking Vox by the shoulders and giving him a good shake, attempting to jostle that groggy, useless brain and get it working properly. “You truly have the IQ of a dying parakeet, Vox, but I suppose that’s what makes you so charming.”
”Believe me, there’s a lot more where that came from, if you really find my idiocy so attractive.”
”Honestly, I find every part of you attractive. For the most part, anyways. Your sense of fashion, perhaps, is one thing I would toss out at a moment’s notice. The neons do you few favors.” Alastor admitted, running a clawed finger along one of the buttons at the collar of Vox’s pajama top.
”Oh, fuck you.”
”No need to be so forward, cher. All in good time. It IS the day for lovers, after all!”
Vox blinked slowly, like a frog who’d been recently poked in the eye with a particularly large stick. He wasn’t really sure if he’d understood that correctly, but either way, he finally realized what was so important about this day specifically. Valentine’s Day. Right.
Fuck.
”Oh yeah. I completely forgot about that shit, honestly. There isn’t a fucker in Hell who goes out of their way to do something romantic anymore. It’s all groping and doing lines down here.”
”So I’ve noticed, but I am no simple ‘fucker’, as you so brazenly put it.” Alastor hummed and took hold of Vox’s collar in its entirety, easing his upper half towards him for easy access. There was nothing but stillness for the most fleeting of moments, and then an embrace like no other.
The Radio Demon’s soft lips fell down upon Vox’s own, much colder ones, boldly daring to put in action the first real giant step in their relationship. Alastor had never allowed more than the scarcest of touches and acts of affection in the past, even considering a little hand-holding to become overwhelming after only seconds of receiving it, so this was unexplored territory. The kiss lingered, a surprising fusion of warmth and coldness that sent a shiver down Vox's artificial spine, spreading a strange sensation around the very pits of his stomach.
Alastor seemed relatively unabashed by this new affection, releasing the other’s collar in favor of draping his long arms across Vox’s shoulders, gripping at his back with claws that rubbed and squeezed at the muscle there. It was such an undeniably intimate gesture despite the lack of tongue and teeth, having both their hearts pounding like steel drums trapped within cages of stone, urging to burst through the flesh and meet in the middle.
The pleasant feeling of their mouths against one another had their opinions changing without a shadow of doubt, believing that maybe this silly little lover’s holiday wasn’t so useless after all.