Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“We could rule Hell together, as partners!”
Alastor’s first almost instant reaction is to laugh. Laugh at the naivety and the foolishness of the man in front of him. He almost does, too, right then and there. But something stops him. He studies the open and hopeful expression on the other’s face, a clawed hand held out toward him as the whiskey burns his chest. Narrowing his eyes, Alastor thinks about it. Vox starts to look nervous, smile dropping, and hand lowering.
“Um.. Y’know… just cause we’ve been friends for so long and-”
“Friends…?” Aslastor cuts him off incredulously.
Is that what he thinks this is?
“Vincent, old pal, why I thought you knew better than this. What’s the first rule of Hell?”
Vox’s expression shutters slightly, and he hunches backward insecurely on himself. When it becomes clear the other isn’t going to answer, Alastor does it for him.
“There are no friends in Hell, and nothing is sacred here except deals. You propose a partnership, but on what grounds?”
Vox continues staring desolately down at his hands clenched in his lap, causing Alastor to sigh.
“Allow me to propose a counteroffer,” Alastor presents, very graciously, mind you.
That has Vox lift his head, a small glimmer of hope in those digital eyes. He once again almost wants to crush it into dust. Say something like, ‘You stay away from me forever with your pathetic neediness.’ But once again, something in his gut stops him. Annoying.
“I’ll go along with your little idea, but you must convince me it’s worth my time.”
Vox perks up even more, determination coloring his screen (ha!) as he clears his throat.
“Then please allow me to reword my previous offer,” he starts confidently, “Why don’t we make a deal, Radio Demon?”
“Very good, much more enticing. And what might this deal entail?”
“An alliance,” he declares, “Between two of the most influential beings in Hell! Mutually beneficial, I assure you.”
“An alliance, hmm?” Alastor hums boredly, tracing the rim of his glass, “Getting a little bored over here, Vox.”
“Just hear me out!” the other jumps in, clearly beginning to get nervous again, as he desperately searches Alastor’s mask of indifference, “We work together, not because we need each other as a crutch, obviously not, how pathetic would that be? No, we work together as a means to an end. Not… n-not as friends, clearly, there are no friends in Hell after all…”
Alastor simply quirks a brow as the other flushes and clears his throat.
“I’m offering you access to my influence and power; in return, I have access to yours. We stand on the same level but only work to raise each other higher.”
Vox holds his hand out once again, “Do we have a deal, Alastor?”
Said demon’s eyes glow in interest, as he leans forward before…
He shoves the hand away with a laugh.
“Much better! Much, much better! Still, Vox, how do you think it looks when two powerful demons work together?”
Vox pauses, seemingly pondering before answering his question.
“It makes us look weak.”
“Right you are! If two supposedly strong demons need each other to get stronger, what kind of picture does that paint? In Hell, any sign of weakness is a death sentence.”
“…Right. That makes sense.”
“Of course it does,” Alastor says, waving a hand, “I’m hardly wrong after all.”
That causes Vox to huff out a laugh as he sits back down, expression contemplative.
“Okay, how about this?” Vox begins, and Alastor’s ears flatten in slight annoyance. Does this man ever know when to quit?
“What if, after announcing our partnership, we go on a spree? Knocking down some Overlords and other pathetic sinners to show our strength?”
“Hmm. Brutish, though undeniably effective,” Alastor admits, taking a slow drink of whiskey, “However, the point would be defeated if we went together. Sinners may think we are only strong together.”
Vox lights up, and Alastor realizes his mistake almost instantly. He’s… he’s still entertaining this doomed idea.
“We don’t have to do it together-”
“Just drop the idea already, Vox,” he snaps harshly, slamming his glass down, causing a small amount of liquid to spill.
“…It isn’t worth thinking about in the first place,” he continues, ignoring the angry glare the barkeep is giving him for making a mess.
But alas, it’s too late. He already gave the fool too much false hope.
“No, you clearly see at least a little bit of the vision,” Vox responds distractedly, a pensive expression on his face, “I know it could work just-”
“Vox-” he starts to interrupt.
“Let me workshop it.”
“…Pardon?”
“Give me a few days to rework my angle,” he rushes to explain, “And by then I’ll pitch you a truly convincing idea!”
Alastor sighs in annoyance, feeling the urge to once again shatter the other’s naive dreams and leave him in the dust. As funny as that would be, and mind you, it absolutely would be, Alastor can’t help the small amount of intrigue he feels at the prospect. Something to do with the other’s naturally charismatic words, no doubt.
“I suppose that’s amenable, since I’m feeling so gracious tonight. One final try to convince me, Vincent, otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”
Vox beams, positively delighted at his response.
“I-I, you… really?! Y-you mean it?!”
“I never say things I don’t mean.”
“N-no, of course not! Hah, wow…”
He stands suddenly, hands slamming down on the bar, nearly startling Alastor.
“I have to go start right now!” He makes a few spastic movements around the bar before bolting toward the door. He freezes at the entrance and looks back at the deer demon.
“I promise I won’t let you down, Alastor,” he states as if it’s a fact, all the confidence in the world leaking in his words.
Alastor can’t help the tingle of excitement he feels as the other dashes away.
“See to it that you don’t, my friend…” he mumbles into his glass, taking another swig.
Regardless of how this goes, Alastor is sure it will at the very least prove to be quite entertaining. Truly, what more could he ask for in this eternal damnation?

Chapter Text

To say Vox was an anxious wreck would be an understatement. In his humble tower, admittedly smaller than he’d prefer, Vox sits at his desk, papers askew and all over the place. He finishes writing down another idea before rereading it. With a groan, he crumples it up and tosses it behind him, just barely missing the already overflowing trash can. Annoyed, he drags a clawed hand down his screen, the noise only proving to frustrate him further. Glaring down at the other useless idea scattered about, Vox pushes himself away from the desk and stands up.
This won’t do. None of this is good enough for Alastor.
He begins pacing back and forth, racking his brain for some way to convince the other of his endeavors. Alastor was ruthless, cunning, and unrelenting in his criticisms, as he had seen before. It was what made him so inspiring, but it was also quite difficult to figure out just how to appeal to him. He’d been up all night, vexed by ideas that ultimately led nowhere. It was… infuriating.
But Vox couldn’t afford to squander this opportunity. Alastor was rarely ever so indulgent when it came to ideas he deemed pointless. He hoped it was because of their years of… not friendship that made him give Vox another chance. He can’t mess this up.
“Think, Vincent, think!” he hisses quietly to himself while he continues his fruitless pacing.
What if nothing you can come up with is good enough for Alastor?
He clutches his head with both hands and growls in annoyance.
Not helpful.
Ignoring that thought, he ruminates more until…
With a gasp, Vox perks up, inspiration finally striking. In haste, he wheels in a whiteboard and sweeps everything else off his desk, slamming a fresh stack of papers down.
“Ohoho, now this, this could work.”
With an excited grin, he uses his teeth to uncap a dry-erase marker and begins writing with fervor.
It took another two days to completely iron out the wrinkles and come up with multiple backup plans in case this one fails, but finally, he had done it. It was perfect. Or… was it? It had to be. No, he had no more time to second-guess himself. Alastor had already been invited over to see his pitch. It was going to have to be enough. Nervously, he sits at his desk, double-checking everything over one final time.
Presentation? Check.
Script? Memorized.
Back-up plans? Made and locked in.
Dramatic visuals? Check.
An amazing and charismatic speaking voice? Definitely check.
Okay, there was literally nothing else he could do to prepare further. All that was left was to wait for-
“Salutations!” A voice calls while the door swings dramatically open to reveal the Radio Demon himself.
Vox jolts in surprise, a small spark of electricity shooting up his antennas.
“Ala-Alastor! You’re here!”
“Well spotted! Astute as always!” Alastor teases.
He seems to be in a good mood today, so that at least was a good sign.
Vox laughs good-naturedly and gestures to the chair across from him.
“Please, have a seat, my not friend!”
Looking amused, Alastor sits down primly, crossing his legs.
Vox takes a moment to appreciate the way the other carries himself before clapping his hands. Instantly, the lights go out, and his screen dims, only leaving Alastor’s glowing eyes and grin to be seen. Using his power, Vox activates the projector, lighting up the wall with his presentation. The first screen is simple, an image he took himself of downtown Pentagram City, amidst the carnage.
“Hell,” he begins, hoping his voice doesn’t shake with nerves, “Is a cruel and ruthless place for any sinner.”
“Definitely not the place to make friends,” he adds cheekily, feeling emboldened when Alastor chuckles lightly.
“Many sinners look for refuge,” he continues confidently, “While others form groups for protection.”
He switches to the next slide, showcasing a group of weak-looking demons all standing together, attempting to look menacing.
“This, however, stops nothing,” he states dramatically.
A big painted red X covers the image.
“A group is only as strong as its weakest link, and when teaming up, they run the risk of coming across as weak individually. When not together, they can get picked off easily…”
He lets a moment of silence sit while the screen fades to black.
“However!” he exclaims, the screen lighting up once again to reveal his favorite picture of him and Alastor together. The only one the other demon had permitted without obstructing his visage.
“If two powerful demons team up, it would only be to the detriment of others!”
Alastor opens his mouth, and Vox holds up a hand to stop him.
“Please save your questions until the end of the presentation,” he says haughtily.
Alastor rolls his eyes, but ultimately complies.
“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” he puts on his best Alastor impression, “Vox, we already went through this; it makes us look weak.”
“But not so!” he continues dramatically, spinning around to face the other with a flourish. The slide switches to a drawn picture of him and Alastor fucking up other sinners. He hopes Alastor appreciates the work he put into it, though he may have gotten carried away with the detail he put into the other demon’s portrait.
“Allow me to list a few possibilities that this partnership could provide.”
“For one thing,” he starts, holding up a claw, “If our partnership were to be known by others, it could create a false sense of security for them. By which I mean, they may think us weak individually, but that mistake would only be a detriment to them if they dare to test it.”
The screen switches to the next slide, a picture of Alastor, pixelated of course, enjoying some flesh from a sinner he recently killed.
“Picture this!” he gestures a hand toward the screen, “Tons of ambitious fools attempting to take you down only to fall beneath your hooves and become nothing more than… deer food.”
Vox takes note of how Alastor leans slightly closer, a slight interest gleaming in his eyes at the prospect.
“And to top it off, on the very rare off-chance that someone we can’t handle alone dares challenge us, we could have each other’s backs in a heartbeat,” he emphasizes it with a snap of his fingers. Noticing Alastor’s less interested expression at those words, he quickly plows on.
“Now that, of course, is highly unlikely for two demons of our caliber,” he clears his throat and straightens his clothes before continuing and switching the screen to a list.
“Anyhow, those aren’t the only upsides to all of Hell knowing our partnership. Some smaller factors would be an increase in territory and resources, which in turn would increase the power we both have. Not to mention, it could open up more channels for diplomacy.”
Pleased when he sees Alastor nodding along, Vox decides to finish up the presentation. He switches to the second-to-last slide, one that simply says the words ‘other options’ with some low-quality doodles of him and Alastor.
“Now, that isn’t the only choice, of course, though I would be remiss to admit it’s not the best one, but it’s good to keep your options open,” he says flippantly with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Other options include not telling anyone of our partnership and keeping it on the down low. If we ever require each other’s aid, then we still help but leave no witnesses to spread the news around. We could also have a formal agreement to not be seen with each other often unless an emergency arises.”
He switches to his final slide, one that simply states ‘in conclusion’ with a fancy font. There is one final doodle of a catlike creature he drew to look a little bit like Alastor. Said demon narrows his eyes at the image. After hours of planning, he got a little bored, sue him. Alaster cat was adorable regardless.
“Now, we reach the end of this presentation, and I encourage you to think about my words,” Vox urges as an old jazz song starts softly playing from the speakers, one of Alastor’s favorites, he knows, “An alliance between two powerful demons only exists to raise our own statures, without making us seem weak. Imagine how far we can go and the goals we can meet? Now, I know you can get far on your own, but why put in so much effort when together, we can get there so much faster? Make a deal with me, Radio Demon, and I assure you, it will be worth your while.”
And with that, the projector turns off, the music fades, and he claps, turning the lights back on.
With anxiety roiling in his gut, Vox studies Alastor’s expression while he waits for the verdict. Even after all these years, he is still quite difficult to read.
Slowly, Alastor stands, and Vox has half a mind to worry the other will simply leave with no words spared before he starts slow clapping.
“Marvelous!” he cheers, “A truly wonderful performance befitting a demon like you. Far better than that drivel you offered at the bar.”
Vox’s heart swells at the praise, as barbed as it is, and he puffs his chest out in pride.
“I must say,” Alastor continues, “It was quite the enthralling presentation; these new technologies really are… something. Though I did appreciate your inclusion of tasteful music.”
“So?” Vox blurts out, unable to wait any longer, “What do you say?”
Alastor scrutinizes him, and Vox feels all his nerves bundle up again as he tenses, leaning forward eagerly.
“Hmm. I do believe you have yourself a deal.”
This must be what elation feels like. A mix of relief, excitement, and pure joy. With a slight amount of disbelief.
“I-I are you serious?! You- you mean it?” He asks, voice bordering on hysteria.
“I do. Now, there’s no need to shake on such a deal, though we should hash out the finer details with a written script as soon as possible.”
Alastor could ask him to write a hundred essays, and he would at this point, he was so high up.
“Y-yeah! That sounds great! We could start now if you want?”
“Patience, Vincent, I have other matters to attend to today. Let’s plan for tomorrow,” Alastor chastises, sounding distinctly amused.
“Right, yeah. Sorry, I just can’t believe you said yes… oh my god.”
Then it really sinks in. They were partners, or they would be as soon as the papers were written and signed.
“Yes, well, my compliments to the speaker,” Alastor jokes lightly, “He had quite the impressive showmanship, really knew how to sell the deal.”
Vox beams, giddy.
“I’ll be sure to let him know.”
With a promise to return the next day, Alastor leaves. Vox watches him go with a wave.
As soon as the door shuts, Vox cheers, prancing around in a made-up little dance.
“Yes! Fuck yes!” he pumps a fist before skipping over his desk and pushing a button. Confetti falls and loud hype music blares while he celebrates.
“Partners! I can’t believe it! Hahaha! FUCK YEAH!”
He pumps a fist in victory, with high hopes for the future.

Chapter Text

Alastor exits Vox’s building and stands out the front door before laughter starts bubbling up.
“Ha! Haha! Hahaha!” he laughs, “Oh, sweet mercy, that was perfect!”
Alastor continues walking away from the building, cackling.
“He! He’s so desperate!” he gasps out, a hand to his forehead, “I bet he’s celebrating my agreement right now!”
Finally calming himself enough, Alastor abates his laughter and sighs out in amusement.
“To be fair, his presentation was quite well thought out, all things considered,” Alastor muses, “If I were anyone else, I would’ve been quite enthralled.”
He had been thinking about it since the bar, since the initial proposal. Vox, a powerful demon in his own right, with loads of potential, wanting to work with him. And for some reason, Alastor had entertained this folly instead of tearing the other down. Why? Then, it had finally hit him. He listened to his instincts and went with the others’ plans because he could use this. That was why he even bothered.
Back when he was alive, Alastor had made a deal for power in Hell, to be the most powerful sinner at the cost of his soul.
The way this deal was worded implied that if there were a more powerful sinner than him, he’d keep his power, get his soul back, and become even more powerful.
So ever since the bar, Alastor had planned to accept Vox’s reworked proposal, using it as a chance to change him for the better. Keeping the other demon on his toes and making him think he had to work harder than he did was just the cherry on top.
Now, all that was left to do was work on a written proposal that would highlight all the important details, and from there, help shape Vox into something powerful.
It was perfect. Vox was influential and definitely more of a people person than most, not to mention the sheer ambition the man had. As an added bonus, he seemed to genuinely enjoy Alastor’s company and admire him, which would make it all the easier to manipulate him. That silly little TV-headed man had no idea what was coming. Alastor would make him into something great, before tearing him down from the spot once he gets his soul back.
His very own pet-project. How very entertaining!
-
Alastor returned bright and early the next day. Clutching his part of the written proposal in his claws, he strolls leisurely up to Vox’s office. No doubt the other had caught him on the security cameras and was freaking out about his arrival.
Without further ado, he makes it to the door and kicks it open with little fanfare.
“Vincent! My dear, I sure do hope you’re ready!”
Vox, sitting behind his desk, visibly jumps, papers scattering everywhere.
“Fuck! Uh, hey! Sorry, one second,” he grumbles, a flush present on his face as he bends down to gather the sheets.
Alastor makes his way over to the chair across from him and primly sits down, laying his stack of paper on the desk.
Vox finally straightens back up, papers gathered, and passes them over.
“I’ll read yours and you read mine?” he asks.
With an affirmative hum, Alastor takes the offered pages and passes his own toward the other before reading them.
It was pretty standard stuff on Vox’s end, things that they had already briefly talked about.
They would help each other whenever needed, work together in business and deals, all that jazz. One line does catch his attention, though.
“Vox, we don’t need to keep this partnership a secret.”
Vox looks up, surpise coloring his face.
“Wh- Really? You made it seem like you wouldn’t want anybody to know.”
“Yes, but I must say, your presentation yesterday really changed my mind, old chum,” Alastor hums disinterestedly, grin sharpening as Vox lights up.
“It was really good, wasn’t it?” He preens, “You can cross that line out then.”
Summoning a red-inked quill, Alastor does just that and continues reading.
Vox snorts in amusement.
“Do you ever get sick of red?” he asks, gesturing to the quill and the fact that Alastor wrote all of his terms in red.
“Not when it looks so fantastic on me,” he drawls in reply, shifting his position slightly and using his hand to emphasize his outfit without looking up.
His ears pick up the sound of Vox swallowing harshly and clearing his throat.
“Fair enough,” he replies, sounding strained.
A comfortable silence falls over the two of them once more while they continue reading.
“Alastor, what the fuck is this?” Vox asks, breaking the quiet.
Said demon looks up at the line the other’s pointing at.
‘Alastor, upon both parties signing this contract, will own Vox’s soul.’
After reading the line, Alastor fights back a laugh. He’d almost forgotten he’d thrown that in.
“Caught that one, did you?” he asks, amusement dripping from his voice, “Can’t blame a demon for trying, pal!”
Instead of getting upset like he half expected, Vox huffs out a laugh.
“You are such a conniving jackass,” he says with mirth, summoning a fountain pen and crossing the line out in blue.
“Takes one to know one, sweetheart,” Alastor teases, looking back down to his pages.
Vox coughs loudly across from him.
“Alright over there?”
“N-never been better!”
As the other recovers, slamming a fist into his chest, a certain line catches Alastor’s eye.
“Well, now, this is quite an interesting line here.”
Vox, over his coughing fit, looks up and reads it over.
‘If one of the two parties in the agreement happens to permanently die, all souls in contract are transferred to the other alive party.’
“Oh yeah, I figured it would be too much of a waste otherwise if one of us happens to die somehow,” Vox says with a shrug, “It’s unlikely, of course, but something to consider.”
“Hmm,” Alastor muses, “Almost makes me worried you’re planning to kill me.”
“W-what?” Vox sputters, rising from his chair and slamming both hands on the desk, “Of course not!”
The radio demon narrows his eyes in suspicion.
“It wouldn’t be impossible. Killing a demon is rather difficult since we can respawn, but... It's definitely not impossible.”
“Okay, look,” the other starts, sitting back down, “Why don’t we add a new clause? No planning, attempting, asking another to try, or actually killing each other.”
“Amenable,” Alastor agrees, writing in the clause, word for word, with blood red ink.
Alastor finishes his reading and sets the forms aside while he waits for the other. Everything seemed in order, and if done correctly, this partnership would prove fruitful.
“Uh, hey Alastor, what’s uh, what’s with this rule?” Vox breaks his train of thought with an uncharacteristically nervous voice.
The deer demon looks over, red eyes trailing over the final line on his own pages.
‘Vox, upon signing this contract, is forbidden from forming new alliances and partnerships with other demons.’
It was a strategic play. If Vox made too many other connections, you know who may catch onto his little scheme and attempt to stop it. Besides, he couldn’t have Vox lose interest in him and ruin the whole plan.
“Ah, yes,” Alastor drawls, looking down at his nail disinterestedly, “As you know, the Radio Demon doesn’t work with just anyone. There’s a price for my services.”
“Yeah, but-”
Alastor holds up a hand, silencing the other before continuing.
“When you have me, you don’t need anyone else.”
Vox stares, wide-eyed in disbelief, before a flush rises on his face (from anger? embarrassment?) and he looks away.
“Y-you…”
Alastor tilts his head, one ear flicking.
Vox collects himself, clearing his throat and placing the pages down, finally meeting his eye.
“May I suggest a counteroffer?”
Alastor leans forward in interest.
“You may.”
“… It goes both ways. You don’t make other alliances or partnerships when you have me too,” Vox says lowly, also leaning forward, “Seem fair?”
Alastor leans back, pondering. It would be annoying to not be able to make any other deals, especially if the need arose… But Vox clearly wanted a more fair trade.
“Allow me to add one more clause to that rule then,” he decides, “Both of us are forbidden from forming new alliances and partnerships unless both present parties agree to it.”
Vox absorbs his words for a moment before nodding in agreement. Brandishing his pen, he rewrites the line, and after he scoots his chair back and stands.
“Well then, that should do it.”
“Indeed,” Alastor agrees, also standing up and stretching, “Quite a productive meeting if I do say so myself. Let us sign the contract to solidify our agreement then.”
Alastor reaches for the pages, but a blue-clawed hand stops him.
“Actually,” Vox says, holding onto his wrist, “I have a better idea.”
“Oh?”
“I think we should shake on this deal, no, in fact, I insist we shake on this deal,” Vox declares, and Alastor finally gets a peek at that compelling man he knows the other is.
“And why do you insist that?”
“In your own words, there are no friends in Hell. Written agreements are all fine and good, but I think I’d prefer something more concrete.”
Alastor chuckles, grin widening. There’s that potential, that ambition!
“A fair point,” he concurs, “Then let us make a deal.”
Twirling his quill, Alastor adds one final line.
‘Upon both parties signing this contract, both present will shake hands to further solidify the deal and be bound to follow each line.’
“How’s that?” he asks, looking up at the other.
“Excellent.”
Both demons sign their names at the bottom before turning to each other.
Alastor bows with a hand out, as if asking someone to dance.
“Let us make this official, then.”
Vox looks down at his offered hand with clear excitement and some other unreadable emotion before he thrusts his hand into the others.
Sparks (literally) fly as their magic activates, twisting around them and lighting up the building as two powerful demons make a deal.
With the deal now properly in place, Alastor drops the other’s sweaty (gross) hand and fights the urge to wipe his hand on his shirt.
“Here’s to a successful partnership.”

Chapter Text

Year One of Partnership – 1966
When Alastor had first agreed to this partnership, Vox had honestly expected him to fuck off. Like, yeah, he’d do his part and whatever, but after he’d figured the other would keep his distance. But that’s… not what’s happening. In fact, the opposite is?
Ever since that day, Alastor was now… well, everywhere he was, it seemed. Vox was pitching an idea for a TV show to some big-shot producer? Alastor was there with a threat or some smooth talking ready if they denied him. Vox was working on production for his now-popular TV show? Alastor was there, making fun of the tacky script while simultaneously giving him new ideas. Hell, the other just hung around his office now, it was like he practically lived there!
All in all, it was so not helping with the horribly confusing feelings he has for the other demon. Well, he could bury them deeper and just not acknowledge them ever. Surely that would be fine.
“Vox dear, I can see your screen buffering from over here. Doing alright over there?”
Speak of the devil (ha), Alastor’s sharp red eyes are staring at him impassively from across the room.
“Oh uh, yeah, I…” Vox forces himself to refocus on the papers in front of him, “I was just trying to think of what to do for the next part of the script.”
Alastor hums disinterestedly, and Vox thinks that’s going to be it, but suddenly the other sinks into the shadows and reappears behind him.
“Allow me to offer some assistance,” he says smoothly, leaning far too close for Vox to handle.
In a slight daze, he allows Alastor to pick up the script and skim through it. He subtly leans a little back, just to be a tiny bit closer to the other.
…
Yeah, this is fine and definitely something he could suppress.

Year Two – 1967
Vox’s show is a hit with the public and has run for almost two years now. It was nothing special, just a talk show with two popular celebrity hosts who invited others to share their voices in humorous and interesting ways.
And so raised his current problem.
“Come on, Al!” he practically begs, “You helped me make the show too! It would only make sense for both of us to appear in the next episode!”
“As I said before,” Alastor responds, not taking his eyes off his book, “I am not interested in taking credit for that trash heap of a show.
Vox is seriously considering getting on his hands and knees before the other continues.
“Besides,” he says, finally looking up, “This face was made for radio, my dear.”
He emphasizes the statement with a hand gesture toward his ever-grinning face.
Vox stares in disbelief.
“You can’t be serious.”
Alastor simply tilts his head in question.
“You have such a-” Vox cuts off, realizing what he was about to say.
‘You have such a nice face, though.’? Really Vinny???
He clears his throat before continuing.
“You were a radio host, it’s really not that different! Come on, please?”
Alastor scrutinizes him for a moment before sighing and snapping his book shut.
“I will go with you and cheer you on from behind the scenes, but I refuse to get in front of the camera. Deal?”
Vox perks up immediately.
“Deal!”

Year Three – 1968
The show nearly ended with a rather disappointing note as one host vanished, presumably killed, and the replacement just couldn’t keep up. Ratings started to tank, and it seemed unsalvageable.
“No,” Vox mutters to himself as he reviews a list of new host candidates, “He has no charisma, and she’ll clash with the other host way too much…”
The choice is stupidly difficult.
“What’s eating you, Vincent?” That familiar voice calls out from his now customized little corner in his office. There was a red sofa, a large wooden bookshelf, fully stocked, a side table, and, of course, a radio.
“We need a replacement for the other host, a real ace, before it gets canned, but all of these options are… well, shitty.”
“Hmm,” Alastor hums thoughtfully, “I do believe you’re missing the obvious solution here.”
Vox whips his head up so fast he worries he might have pulled a wire.
“What?”
“Why, you become the new host, of course.”
“…Me?”
“But of course!” Alastor declares, standing from his rather luxurious-looking sofa, “You made the show and made a ripple when you appeared on it last year; sinners know you by name now.”
Vox preens at the words, but a small lingering doubt sits at the bottom of his gut.
“Gee, I don’t know, Al, I haven’t been a host since I died…”
“You weren’t one when you were alive for nothing, dear,” Alastor reprimands with a finger wag, “Stop doubting yourself. You have natural charisma and a truly compelling hosting personality.”
“After all,” he continues, stalking close and looking him right in the eye, “It worked for me, didn’t it?”
Vox grins widely, ignoring the fluttering feeling in his chest (still not acknowledging that whole mess).
“You’re right! If it worked for you, it can work for anyone!” Vox proclaims, using his claws to shred the sheets in front of them.
“It’s my show, and I’ll have a gas convincing those stuffy producers to allow it. I did it all the time when I was alive!”
Alastor’s grin widens minutely, and he lays a hand on Vox’s shoulder, the touch sending electric signals up his antenna.
“And I, of course, will support you every step of the way.”
Vox ignores the shiver that goes down his spine at the words.

Year Four – 1969
Him being the host was an excellent call. The show skyrocketed in popularity, and Vox was already planning on ways to can the other host so he’d be the only one in the spotlight. Coincidentally, it was around this time that Vox was able to link his power level with his approval rating. Alastor was strangely pleased by the news, though he still refused to join him in the spotlight, no matter how much he’d begged.
They were throwing a celebratory party for the show’s success, rubbing elbows with some rather high-up demons.
Vox had been schmoozing his way around the room, Alastor having long disappeared to do his own thing. Was it weird to miss him already?
There were a few overlords in attendance, like Zestial, and other iconic demons of such. Growing weary of so much conversation, though still pleased with everyone’s praise, Vox makes his way over to the bar located at the venue. As he approaches, he notices a familiar pair of red fluffy ears sitting at one of the stools. Instantly, he changes his path to get to the other demon.
“Hey! Alastor!” he calls.
Said ears swivel toward his voice, and the other turns over to him.
“Ah, Vincent, there you are, I was just talking about you,” The radio demon greets, “Allow me to introduce you to a dear friend of mine, Mimzy.”
He gestures to the bar stool next to him, and sitting in it is a small blonde demon dressed like she was from the 20s. Well, that was probably the case.
Vox rests two hands on Alastor’s shoulders to lean in for a better look. The other tenses under his touch, and before he can remove his hands and apologize, Alastor seems to relax.
“A pleasure to meet you, sweetie,” Mimzy greets politely, “I saw you on the TV, quite the big cheese now, aren’t ya?”
“Why, thank you, miss!” Vox says humbly, preening at receiving praise from a friend of Alastor’s, “But I couldn’t have done it without my partner here.”
He emphasizes his words by shaking Alastor’s shoulders, causing the other to roll his eyes.
“Come now, you’re giving me far too much credit,” the other turns his head to meet Vox’s gaze, “I was merely support, it was all you, my dear.”
Vox nearly short-circuits at the words as he feels his face heating up.
Unsure if he wants to be closer or further away to regain his composure, Vox flounders, buffering.
A sharp gasp from the other stool draws both their attention back to Mimzy, who is looking like the cat who got the canary at the moment.
“Alastor, doll, why didn’t you tell me!” She asks, sounding outraged, “Do you know how many awkward dates you coulda avoided if I had known?!”
Alastor tilts his head.
“I wasn’t aware there was a way I could avoid your terrible match-making skills in both life and death, but please, do explain.”
“I didn’t know you fancied gents!” she blurts out.
Vox can feel Alastor freeze from under his claws, but the look on his face… A mix of shock, disbelief, anger, and annoyance all rolled into one. Maybe it’s the drinks he’d been having, but it’s enough to make Vox burst into laughter.
Alastor levels him with a heated glare, and no matter how much he tries, the little lady cannot be convinced otherwise.
Vox laughs himself to tears, and if it wasn’t for their deal, he’s sure the other would’ve skewered him by now.

Year Five – 1970
Vox sits at his desk, alone. Well, not completely, the little previous overlord, Niffty, that Alastor came into contract with recently was cleaning up the space, but the only demon he cared about wasn’t around. So, therefore, he may as well be alone. Looking up from his work, he watches Niffty mill about for a while, cleaning and killing bugs. A lot of bugs. More than he knew he had in the building. With a sigh, he forces himself to focus on the blueprints for a large mechanical mixed with organic matter shark. At the party, he had met a lad named Baxter who had been making waves with some truly exceptional inventions. Vox had personally gone to see the showcase and had signed the other on to work for him and his budding business.
They had created some tech that was selling decently well, but… the shark was a pet project, so to speak.
It looked sound. Baxter was a genius in his own right, so it should be possible, even if the shark was smaller than he’d hoped. He could always upgrade him.
Just then, the door swings open and Alastor saunters in like he owns the place. Which, he may as well what with how much stuff he moved in. He had his own room in the building, for God’s sake.
Vox instantly feels like his mood raises the second the other steps in.
“Al! Where’ve you been?”
“Just running some meaningless errands,” the other responds, making his way over to the sofa he’d added in the corner, “Nothing to concern yourself with.”
Vox snorts.
“Yet the last time you said that, you toppled this little lady from being an overlord.”
Niffty grins at being acknowledged.
“Sir was the baddest boy of them all!” she declares.
Neither demon seems to know how to respond to that, so Vox clears his throat and looks back down at his work.
“Oh, that reminds me! Remember that rookie I just hired?”
“The fish man? Yes, I do recall,” Alastor responds, draping himself comfortably on the sofa and summoning a book to read, along with a mug of tea.
“Well, we’ve been developing quite a lot for VoxTech-”
“I’m still not sold on that name.”
“And,” Vox continues breezing past the interruption, “I got him to start working on a personal project for me! Check it out.”
Vox holds up the blueprint and allows the other to study it curiously.
“You’re… making a pet shark?” he asks.
“Yeah! Shok.wav is gonna be his name! He’ll give me some intimidation factor and help me fight any enemies I make. Plus, how funny would it be to fire people and toss them in his tank?” Vox rambles in sheer excitement.
Alastor’s gaze softens a small amount, so much so that if Vox didn’t know him so well, he wouldn’t have noticed.
“And you just love sharks.”
“That too!” Vox agrees easily.
“Well, don’t let me distract you from your planning, dear.”
“Of course not! I focus better with you here anyway.”
…
That was super embarrassing, what the Hell, Vinny?
“I am pleased to hear it,” Alastor rumbles in amusement.
A comfortable silence falls between them, the only sound present being Niffty shuffling around the rooms. Vox, despite his words, finds it hard to focus. His gaze drifts back to Alastor, taking in the way the light from the windows illuminates his very being, making him look nearly ethereal. Vincent was never a religious man, but Alastor’s presence had to count as divine.
“Do you love Alastor?”
A voice whispering next to him has him jump as he turns to meet Niffty’s inquisitive eye.
“Wh-what? Why would you think that?” He asks defensively.
“You always look at him like that.”
“Like… what?”
“Like…” she ponders for a moment before declaring, “Like he’s the only thing keeping your whole world spinning.”
Vox sputters in complete disbelief.
“I-I do not!” he denies, “I’m… I’m not a queer. I’m not queer, and I don’t love Alastor.”
Niffty studies him a little bit longer before shrugging.
“Okay then!”
With that, she hops off the desk and scampers away.
The conversation was hushed, and he could only hope that Alastor’s sensitive ears didn’t pick up on it. How embarrassing would that be? Vox buries his face in his hands. What the Hell was that? Did he really seem like such a flit to others? First Mimzy, and now Niffty. The whole thing with Mimzy felt a lot less funny now. This would not do. His feelings toward Alastor were nothing more than a deep respect and admiration. That’s it, nothing more.
His gaze drifts back over to Alastor, still draped comfortably on the sofa, a small content smile on his face as he reads. Soft jazz plays around him, the whole scene looking horribly domestic. He snaps his eyes away, feeling his screen glitching slightly.
There had to be nothing more.
There just couldn’t be.