Work Text:
The Upside Down Smile is a nice bar, for Hell’s standards. It’s brightly lit, with fights that break out only every few days, not hours. Most chairs are not even cracked and there’s barely any spaces over the tables where acid drops from the ceiling when it rains.
Still, it’s not the kind of place where you would usually meet an overlord – which is exactly why Vox likes it. The other sinners always fall silent when he and Alastor enter, like they’re afraid even the quietest conversation will annoy them enough to lash out. Which, yeah, Alastor does on occasion. Vox doesn’t usually join in. He just likes the sense of power, being so superior to everyone else in the vicinity. Well, except for Alastor probably.
But hey, that’s what tonight is about!
Vox has thought about what to say for a long, long time. His digital trash can is full of failed drafts that were either too corny (he doesn’t want Al to laugh at him, after all) or too pushy (which would just get him rejected immediately). But he thinks he’s got it now: short and to the point. If he can only get the words out.
»So, I finally found Niffty in Mimzy’s apartment. She had collected each and every weapon the loan sharks camping in front of her door carried, because she thought they were ›too filthy‹!« Alastor laughs fondly and Vox joins in, even though his thoughts were so loud he missed some parts of the story.
He just likes the way Alastor’s grin softens when he is genuinely amused, the way his ears aren’t so straight anymore but tip back slightly in a more relaxed pose.
»Of course, that somewhat took away the challenge of taking them out,« Alastor continues absently. »But it was just as well because I was running late for tea with Rosie anyway.«
Now Vox really laughs, because, yeah, that sounds like Alastor.
Alastor smiles at him over his glass and they go back to drinking in comfortable silence, the only noises in the bar the soft jazz filtering out of the Radio Demon’s microphone staff and the sinners trying to leave without being noticed.
Come on, Vox thinks, shifting a tiny bit into Alastor’s direction. The worst he can say is no. Though he doesn’t think he will. They are basically already partners, after all. Alastor wouldn’t let just anyone help with his broadcasts – even if all Vox did was electrocute one of the guests a little, so he would scream in a pitch Alastor liked better.
»You know…« Vox leans into Alastor’s direction, though not too far, so the weight of his head and his tipsiness can’t pull him off his chair, »I was thinking.«
Alastor’s eyebrows rise. »What a momentous occasion!« Canned applause rises over the music for a moment. »I should probably get an interview! Now that you’ve produced a thought, who knows what you might accomplish next?«
Vox scoffs. »Ha ha.«
There’s sarcasm in Alastor’s voice, sure, but no cruelty. Just amusement, and he wears that softer smile again. Vox desperately tries not to blush, but he can see his own reflection in Al’s monocle and knows he failed miserably.
»If I didn’t like you, you would be insufferable,« he says, before his CPU can catch up. Oh, shit.
But Alastor just smiles again and doesn’t seem to think much of the statement. »Everyone likes me, my dear! It’s called charm. Maybe one day you’ll learn to use it, too.«
»I’m plenty charming, you asshole,« Vox grumbles. »I charmed people so good they believed I was speaking for God.«
»Yes, yes,« Alastor says with an eye roll. »You’ve told me about your cult, Vincent. But with the right tricks you can make stupid people believe anything. The real challenge is to convince your equals.«
Vox looks at Alastor for a too long moment. Is it just him or did that sound like a challenge? An opening? An invitation? He calls up his notes, his prepared words. Here goes, then.
»So–«
»Would you like to get out of here?« Alastor asks.
Vox blinks and blushes again, eyes wide.
»I’m feeling peckish.«
»Uh, sure, yeah.« Anything you want, he almost says.
»Wonderful,« Alastor purrs and drains his glass, then flips a coin to the barkeeper – the only other sinner still inside the bar. She looks slightly resentful to have lost all of her other customers, but she doesn’t speak up.
Vox catches her eyes and makes his own swirl, feels the electricity running through her brain. »I already paid my tab,« he says calmly.
She blinks. There’s about a fifty-fifty chance this will work. Finally, the barkeeper nods and confirms, »You’ve already paid your tab.«
With a victorious grin Vox catches up to where Alastor waits at the door. The Radio Demon surveys him, making Vox’s whole body go warm and the fans that replaced his lungs after death go faster.
»You’re getting better at that,« Alastor notes.
Even the slight praise makes Vox preen. He only developed this technique a few months ago, after accidentally making another sinner jump in front of a car in a fit of rage. All he needs now is some new tech to make it easier to precisely handle the tiny amounts of electricity that power a brain.
»I wonder if you might one day be strong enough to use it on me,« Alastor muses idly and starts walking. Sinners jump out of their way.
Vox almost chokes on air. The thought alone is intoxicating. If he could control the likes of Alastor, the power he could wield…
Alastor looks at him and laughs. »Oh, don’t get any ideas, my dear. Even if you could mind control me, you’d miss my real personality too much!«
And fuck, yeah, that might be true. Vox looks to the side to hide the way he’s biting his lip. When he turns back, he has fixed a broad grin on his screen. »You’re not that hard to imitate, old man!« He lets a radio static sound effect distort his voice and turns his pupils into radio dials. »I am the Radio Demon and I love causing problems, alcohol, and the screams of the damned!«
Alastor snickers. »You’re ridiculous, Vox.«
Vox grins, too, because the smile the other demon gives him is… not soft exactly. But he’s not showing his teeth and he’s not mocking and there’s genuine amusement shining in his red eyes. Vox only notices he’s leaned closer to Alastor when the alcohol finally catches up with him and makes him almost fall flat on his face.
And there he is, the Radio Demon, laughing his ass off, all almost-softness gone.
Vox rights himself and scratches his head in embarrassment, but when he looks up at Al his heart jumps. They are surrounded by trash cans and house fronts marred by acid scars, yet none of that can detract from the marvel that is Alastor. Even laughing with tears in his eyes there’s this power, this shadow of some eldritch monster just beneath the surface of reality. He is… inspiring. More than that, to Vox. So much more, and… he might be having an epiphany, involving the realisation that maybe he didn’t leave all the squishier feelings behind with his rotting human body. Fuck me, Vox thinks, and can’t decide if it’s a secret request or more of a general sentiment.
Vox is staring, but Alastor is still busy laughing at him, so it’s fine. »It wasn’t that funny,« he says eventually.
Alastor suddenly turns and puts both hands on Vox’s shoulders, which for an insane moment makes him think the other demon is about to kiss him. »I’ll tell you a secret,« Alastor says conspiratorially.
»Yeah?« Embarrassing, how breathless he sounds.
»I’m also a little drunk. Makes everything much funnier.« Alastor lets go of him and straightens, the last snickers receding.
Of course. Vox exhales slightly.
»So, what do you feel like?«
That makes Vox freeze. Did Alastor somehow read his thoughts? Was there a telltale error on his screen or something? He can’t say what he just realised, can’t put that into words. Not when there’s no way this is mutual, when he hasn’t even managed to get out his proposal, not when Alastor’s presence somehow negates all the skill he acquired while alive, in charming people, making them think what he wants them to with just a few words. He can’t tell the only person in Hell he actually likes, who sees him as an equal, who is interesting and powerful and beautiful in a scary way, that it’s maybe probably more than liking, that yeah, he wants a partnership, but maybe in more than the business sense– Then he realises Alastor meant food. The reason they left the Upside Down Smile in the first place.
»Whatever you like,« Vox says lamely. Croaks, more like. He just hopes Alastor didn’t pay too much attention to whatever parts of his little meltdown were probably visible on his screen.
»Hm,« Alastor says and taps his chin with the staff. »There is this new Vegetarian Place in Cannibal Town that I wanted to check out.«
He starts walking down another street and Vox follows. »Huh. Vegetarian? In Cannibal Town? Don’t think that’s the smartest business venture.«
Alastor’s grin sharpens. »Oh, no, my dear. You misunderstand. They serve vegetarians.«
Even as Vox’s stomach turns – cannibalism is decidedly not the sin for him – he has to laugh at the glee on Alastor’s face at tricking him. »You’re an asshole, Al.«
»Why? It’s not my fault you haven’t had a thought before today and therefore couldn’t draw the logical conclusion that based on the context, your first assumption must be false.«
»Mhm,« Vox says flatly. »Fuck you.«
»If your choice of swear words is any indication of the limits of your imagination, it’s no wonder your shows are all the same,« Alastor returns, but there’s no real bite in the insult.
Vox grins. »You’re just jealous people enjoy my stuff.«
»Well, it’s Hell. I didn’t really expect there to be many with good taste.«
»Sure,« Vox says with a scoff. This might be the moment to bring up his proposal again. Their possible partnership, that would make them able to cater to all sinners, those caught by easy entertainment and those who consider themselves above it.
But their walk is comfortable and Vox finds that he doesn’t really feel like bringing up business right now. He just wants to enjoy this night. There will be opportunities later, to make his offer. Besides, he’s pretty sure of the answer, anyway. After all, they’re friends, as close as two sinners in Hell can be.
So Vox closes the file with his prepared words and listens to Alastor rave of jambalaya, especially the one his mother used to make. And you know, they probably won’t get it quite right, but he’s heard that this new restaurant offers the dish and he has yet to find a chef in Hell that gets the taste even close to right…
Vox listens and steals glances at Alastor’s animated expression, the far away look he sometimes gets when he talks of his mother – which is not often, even with Vox.
He listens, and thinks this might be a perfect night.
Thinks it can only go uphill from here.