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“Okay, I love absith.”
“It’s absinthe,” Alastor corrected, the purr of his voice rumbling pleasantly in his throat.
“Ab-suck-this!” Vox crowed before downing another. His thirteenth, or fourteenth, or…umpteenth.
And, not to be outdone, Alastor matched him. Glass empty, he reached for the bottle to refill their glasses only to find it suddenly, tragically, empty as well.
The respondent scoff he made must have been out loud, because Vox promptly collapsed against the arm of the couch in a fit of giggles. His kicking feet nearly knocked Alastor upside his head, so Alastor gave him a light shove. One that had Vox, overdramatic as usual, rolling right of the couch.
WHAM.
…
“Ow.”
It was Alastor this time who felt giggles slipping out from liquor loose lips. He watched Vox sloppily sit back back and clumsily paw across his screen in search of cracks. Finding none, he sighed with relief and let his box head flop back onto the seat cushions of the couch.
“More?” Vox asked him, lolling his head back to stare up at Alastor with wide eyes. Well, not quite at Alastor. Slightly to the left of Alastor.
Alastor patted the top of Vox’s head, warm as ever under his palm, as he stood. He strolled over towards his kitchen. Very gracefully, mind you, despite the way the floorboards underfoot seemed to rock and sway like the bow of a ship in a stormy sea. But he weathered this storm admirably and reached his liquor cabinet without any issue.
Such a shame the labels weren’t behaving though, their letters swimming about every time he examined them too closely, so he grabbed something dark that resembled bourbon and headed back to the couch.
Vox was sitting as he’d left him. Alastor took the liberty of pouring him a share and pressing the glass into his slack hand. Vox hummed in a lazy approximation of ‘thanks’, or maybe ‘cheers’, before taking a deep drink like Alastor had handed him water instead of booze.
Should they be having water? Hmmm, didn’t taste as good as bourbon though. And water didn’t exactly scream ‘celebratory’ did it? Oh, but what were they even celebrating again? Something Vox did, perhaps, since Alastor couldn’t recall anything major in his life as of late. And Vox was always finding a reason to come over these days. A new show. A new soul. A new apartment. His life was always changing lately. “Onwards and upwards,” he’d cheer whenever Alastor asked if his newest whatever was necessary.
“Alastor,” Vox whined as he rested his box head against Alastor’s knee.
He was so warm, and Alastor could feel the vibrations of the inner workings of Vox’s machinery echoing down to his bones. Like a purring cat, only far less prone to biting.
Then Vox turned his head, perching his chin on Alastor’s kneecap and looking up at him with the wide-eyed devotion more fitting of a dog. Though Vox was far more tolerable than those slobbering beasts.
“Alastor,” Vox said again, staring.
Alastor quirked a brow at his strange little friend. “Yes?”
His smile grew; his eyes softened. There was a buzz of electricity that jumped across his antennae, the residual static rippling down through their shared contact and raising the fur on Alastor’s legs.
A giggle slipped from Alastor’s lips at the tingle. He rested a hand on Vox’s warm head. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Vox hummed, his voice warm too, “I just like your name.”
“I like it too,” Alastor smirked.
Vox stuttered slightly between his chuckles and Alastor preened just a bit at making his friend laugh so easily.
“I like yours too,” he added.
Vox’s gaze shot back up at him. Another jolt of electricity. Another residual tingle of shared static. Alastor set down his glass, empty now, and rested his other hand on Vox’s head. He slid them both down to caress the sides of this amusing little picture box. The thumb of his right hand idly stroked the glass screen where he approximated Vox’s cheek to be.
The static thrummed gently under the pad of his thumb.
“Viktor,” Alastor tried Vox’s old name on his tongue.
Vox’s mouth fell agape, and the responding surge of energy sent a pleasant vibration crackling all the way up to his teeth.
“More.”
Alastor cocked his head, stopping short when the room started to spin a bit too quickly. But despite the sudden vertigo, he managed to nab Vox’s abandoned glass off the floor for him. His motions were halted though when Vox grabbed him, his claws scraping faintly against the tender underside of his wrist.
“No,” he murmured, “my name.”
Ah.
“Viktor.”
Vox trembled and ducked his head down to press his forehead to Alastor’s knee. The hand wrapped around Alastor’s wrist tightened, the claws pricking his skin and coaxing a trickle of ruby blood to the surface.
“I wish I knew you,” Vox mumbled into his knee.
Alastor chuckled. “You do know me.”
“No,” he whined, digging his forehead petulantly against Alastor. “Before. Before all…all this.”
Vox turned again, the side of his head propped against Alastor now. His screen was turned away though, hiding his face from Alastor’s scrutiny, depriving Alastor of seeing the expression gracing his screen.
“I used to be so handsome.”
He sounded soft and halting, like he was mourning the death of someone precious.
Connecting the dots to Vox’s constellation of thoughts was proving to be difficult. And the absinthe clouding his thoughts and bourbon warming his gut certainly wasn’t helping matters. Unless…
Alastor poured himself another glass of bourbon and drank it down. He paused, waiting for the liquor to hit him and make him as loose and maudlin as Vox, but alas, he’d always been too good at holding his drink. Not like Vox, poor thing. All it took was a baker’s dozen (more or less) of absinthe shots and he was done for. Lying on the carpet. Head practically in Alastor’s lap. Sounding like he was about to start crying any minute now because, what? Alastor never got to see what he’d looked like when alive? Ridiculous.
“Nonsense,” Alastor said, when he realized how long he’d been silent after catching a tell-tale hitch of breath from Vox. “That doesn’t mean anything to me, you know. You’re perfectly fine as you are now. Better even!”
Alastor felt safe saying that. After all, what human ear could perceive his radio waves? What human flesh could carry the thrum of electricity underneath the surface? What human hand could bear such a delightfully dangerous grip? What human face could display such a gorgeously rendered emotions?
Like the look of surprise Vox was sporting right now! Red eyes blown wide enough to take up nearly half of his screen. His pixelated pupils, shrunken to a fine point, trembling as they stared up at Alastor. The hint of serrated teeth poking from behind the lips of an agape mouth. The sheer depths of shock and awe the likes of which Alastor had always deserved to be graced with.
Yes. Vox’s current appearance suited him just fine.
After a moment, Vox moved. He placed one hand on the couch and finally released Alastor’s wrist to put his other hand onto Alastor’s thigh. He hauled himself up slowly. One knee was planted on either side of Alastor’s hips as Vox climbed onto his lap and rested his body against Alastor’s. He tucked his head into the crook of Alastor’s neck, or at least tried to. It wasn’t until Alastor snapped a few of his vertebrae out of place and elongated his neck that Vox’s head could actually fit.
“I, I like you, Alastor.”
He could feel Vox’s machinery very well like this. Humming and whirring and buzzing against their shared chests. It reminded Alastor a little of the rolling thunder of a far off storm.
“I like you as well, my friend.”
Vox’s arms dug between Alastor’s back and the couch cushions, squeezing their torsos together. Vox’s warmth spread between them. Alastor could feel something thumping against his chest. A heart? Or at the very least, something that approximated as one.
Its tempo increased.
“I want to be closer to you.”
Alastor laughed, and he could feel Vox’s body rock under the shifting of his chest. “I think you’ll have a hard time getting any closer than this.”
He felt Vox’s head shift, so he glanced down to see that Vox had leaned back slightly, enough to look up at him. This really was the best angle to observe Vox at. Or at least it was his favorite.
“More.”
“Hmph, insatiable little thing aren’t-”
Alastor was cut off by Vox surging upright and pushing his head closer to Alastor’s face. More giggles slipped from liquor loose lips as Vox smooshed their chests together, pressed his forehead to Alastor’s, turned their individual breathes into one.
The only thing that eventually stopped Alastor’s laughter, was Vox’s screen against his lips.
And then it was the scrape of something sharp, the warm tingle of something long and agile.
Ah, it’s his mouth, Alastor thought.
Cautious, Alastor opened his own mouth and touched Vox’s tongue with his.
Oh! What a curious sensation! Almost like the bubbling of champagne, or that crackling candy dust Vox had shared with him a while back.
Alastor pressed forward, touching his lips to Vox’s screen –the hairs on his face rising on end from the static—and searched Vox’s mouth for more. His tongue slid along Vox’s and a shiver of electricity raced through him, alighting his senses with thousands of tiny fireworks. And when Alastor delicately traced along Vox’s palate the man whimpered and wiggled in Alastor's lap.
How adorable.
Everything about this kiss was so different. Hard glass instead of soft lips, a plasma tongue hidden behind sharp teeth. Without the disgusting smacks of wet flesh that had used to make his skin crawl, Alastor found the experience rather more enjoyable. Much better than he’d remembered kissing to be when he was alive.
Vox leaned over and pulled Alastor atop him as he fell back onto the cushions of the couch. Alastor tried to hover over his friend, but it was rather difficult to keep that electric tongue against his with the distance, and, well, Vox was tugging him down rather incessantly.
Vox's body went loose and limp underneath him, and he sighed into Alastor's mouth like he was finally comfortable, finally satisfied.
Like he had finally returned home.
As he relaxed, Vox's mouth started to fall slack. His tongue retracted back into his screen, and with it went the tingle and pop of that electric rush.
When Alastor moved to pull away, he whimpered like a wounded animal, so Alastor stayed and peppered small kisses across the warm glass of Vox's screen, enjoying the residual buzz of static from contact and the low wavelengths of pleasure Vox emitted.
Slowly, Vox's screen dimmed until it was pitch black. Powered off completely. Yet his arms were still around Alastor, locked in place with intertwined fingers.
And, well, Vox had gone through so much trouble to keep them together. It seemed a tad rude to ruin his hard work by getting up.
Besides, the room spun a little less now that he was lying down. And Vox was so warm beneath him. Like lying on a boulder warmed under the noon sun.
Perhaps he could stand to stay where he was for a spell. Afterall, what was the harm in keeping his friend company
for just...
...a little...
......longer......
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