Chapter Text
“Vox? Darling?” Alastor calls out, making a noise almost as if calling for a cat and not for his regressed partner.
It tended to work sometimes, to be fair.
It had taken Vox an awfully long time to trust Alastor while he regressed, and even some days, he’d slip back into being afraid or distrusting of Alastor again. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was something he did to lose Vox’s trust, or if this was just the way Vox was.
It did tend to worry Alastor when it was particularly difficult to find his picture box. Deep down, he had to admit she was paranoid about her not being able to find Vox in time if he got hurt or suddenly very sick.
Alastor sighs, his permanent grin straining. He tried his best to rein in his frustration, she really did, but some days she just had to walk away from the situation for a little while. It wasn’t getting to that point quite yet, but she was about to resort to some…drastic measures.
Bribery, to be clear.
Alastor hums to himself softly as he heads towards Vox’s playroom, trying to seem nonchalant, not wanting Vox to pick up on what he’s up to, as she knows no matter how young Vox has regressed, he’s still rather clever, almost too much for Alastor’s liking.
Now entering the dimly lit playroom, Alastor goes over to the stuffed animals, carefully selecting one of Vox’s favorites- a soft and fuzzy great white shark plush which little Vox had proudly named Bruce. It had taken Vox a little while to explain the reference to Alastor, as she never watches much TV or movies, and when she does, it’s because Vox is regressed or Vox wanted him to, and normally, it’s some fast-paced cartoon or reality show, depending on Vox’s mood.
Alastor makes her way back to where she had last seen her darling Vox, the skittish TV head still nowhere to be found. Not that he expected anything else, of course, if Vox was insistent on hiding, he would have to be coaxed out rather than waiting it out and hoping he left his hiding spot on his own.
“Vox, my dear,” Alastor calls out, a bit loud in case Vox is further away than she thought. “I have a little friend who’d like to have a cuddle,”
When basically all Alastor hears is metaphorical crickets, he tries rephrasing it.
“Vox, I think Bruce is severely lacking in Vox hugs. What do you say we remedy that, hmm, little one?” Alastor attempts again.
He finally hears a noise, one that suggests Vox is either considering it or about to stand up.
“It’s alright, dear. I don’t bite. At least, not you,” Alastor teases lightly.
She sees the sight of her picture box sooner rather than later- he’s cowering a bit, and he absolutely hates to see proof that his baby is still afraid of him sometimes.
“...Bruce?” Vox says simply, a thumb in his mouth and the other one reaching up, making Alastor internally cringe.
Alastor chuckles. “Almost forgot about our little friend here, little one,” Alastor murmurs, handing over the plush shark.
Vox immediately embraces it tightly. He’s such a sweetheart, it aches Alastor’s heart to think that whoever dared hurt Vox before did it so badly that he has trouble trusting people he’s known for years, people who love him so much and wouldn’t dare hurt him despite Vox’s worries that they would.
But Alastor could fix that. Like a kiss on a scrape, Vox’s Mama always found a way to make things better.