Work Text:
Hell is a place of punishment. No matter how numb to the brutality you get, no matter how much power you gain, no matter how much fun you have — in the end, it still serves to hurt you, first and foremost. So it's no surprise that death is no escape from sickness. Some sort of an annoying cold or infection simply has to ruin the fun every once in a while.
This is a fact that Velvette is painfully reminded of, as she barely pries her eyes open to the all too bright room, body heavy with exhaustion, throat burning, and the sound of the alarm piercing through her pounding head like a blade.
Oh, today is going to suck.
She closes her eyes almost as soon as she opens them, choosing to try and grab her phone blindly; squinting at the screen after a moment, trying to get the damn thing to shut the fuck up. Her fingers and eyes don't seem to cooperate, as she misses the turn off button three times in a row — finally, finally it gives in, a second before she makes up her mind to throw the fucker across the room. She closes her eyes again, burying her face in the pillow. Fuck, she doesn't want to get up at all.
…It won't do though, right? She might not have a show today, but her followers rely on her consistent updates. She has to, at the very least, schedule a few posts; queue them up maybe, so she can have a few hours of peace. There are some videos she was supposed to edit, too… And she has a few meetings scheduled. She can try to push things around here and there, but there's no way she can get a whole day off. There's no such thing as a day off for a Social Media Overlord. Though she should never say that to Vox, probably, because she and Val are going to suffer the consequences of that as soon as he gets into one of his workaholic spirals again-
Anyway. No time to go back to sleep. She'll survive this. Somehow.
Velvette slowly pries her eyes open, squinting at the screen of her phone yet again. Even with her eyesight blurry from sleep, she almost immediately dials her assistant's number.
"Melissa, I'm only going to say this once, so you'd better take a good fucking note." She rubs her temples, trying to ignore how absolutely shitty her voice sounds. "Get me some toast, ibuprofen and the darkest black goddamn coffee you can get and bring it to my room NOW. Then reschedule all my meetings for today, and if anyone tries to reach me — and I don't care even if it's the fucking Lucifer asking for me — I'm busy and will not be available. Don't let anyone into my room, don't have them call me, make them fuck off. Anyone comes in, and I'll tear you apart, am I fucking clear?"
"Y-yes, ma'am." Comes a shaky voice from the other end of the line. "B-but, Miss Velv-"
"Good."
And with that, Velvette hangs up — just before her body starts shaking with violent coughs.
Ibuprofen helps. A little. Makes her functional, at the very least. She also takes a swig of one of her healing potions, but that works much better on wounds, and barely does anything for a stupid sickness like the one she's come down with.
She's not sure if the coffee helps at all because she's still tired as shit. Maybe she should've asked for tea instead; it could've at least soothed her throat or something. But there was a part of her that was screaming that she needed to be awake, first and foremost, and there was no better way to shake herself awake than the bitterness of coffee as dark as her soul. Which kind of makes her think that she's spending far too much time with Vox.
Time drags into infinity as she works at her desk. Any other day, she would never work in pajamas, wrapped into a blanket — and even if, she'd make it look aesthetic and cozy, and not messy and miserable, like she feels right now. She responds to e-mails, comments, queues up content, works on her designs on the side. Makes sure Vox's posts don't get them cancelled. It sounds like a lot, but in reality, it feels like most of the time she's just staring into space, falling asleep with her eyes open- up until she snaps out of it again and forces herself to do more work.
[2 missed calls from Flat-faced Prince]
You: so sorry V!! i'm super busy, can't talk rn. text me, email me or call me later?? xoxo
Flat-faced Prince: You cancelled all your meetings today. What happened?
Flat-faced Prince: You could've warned me, at least
You: oh fuck it slipped my mind we had a meeting scheduled today too
You: something came up and i need to handle it asap
You: you know how the media works, you miss a beat and shit's already outdated
Flat-faced Prince: You don't need to remind me…
Flat-faced Prince: You need any help with whatever it is?
You: nah thanks v i've got it covered <33
Flat-faced Prince: Great; call me if you need anything, though
You: will do thx vox <333
More posts. The VoxTok videos get polished up and published. Few more business e-mails to write. A few responses to type out to comments she was tagged in. It's usually so natural to lose herself in that world. It's torture today, as the sharp light of the screen stings her eyes, makes her head feel like she's being repeatedly stabbed.
Each time she checks the time, she feels like it's been a few hours, and each time it's only been a few minutes. So she takes a deep breath, wraps herself in the blankets more tightly, hoping it'll somehow stop the shivers, and tells herself that she can handle a few minutes more.
Bestie <3 <3: Hey babydoll! Wanna go out for lunch?
Bestie <3 <3: I REALLY need a break form these whores
You: sorry darling can't :(( snowed under with work
Bestie <3 <3: :(
Bestie <3 <3: It's fineee I get it babes
Bestie <3 <3: Just rmeber to take a break at some point
You: bitch do i look like vox LMAO
You: i will dw
Bestie <3 <3: Fair point
Bestie <3 <3: Want me to get you anything?
You: nahh i'll probably order smth later thanks though
Bestie <3 <3: Yeh of course! <3
You: xoxo
When the time for her lunch break finally does come, she doesn't even think about food. She's not hungry, and the stinging of her throat discourages her from trying to swallow anything even further. All she does is stumble back towards the bed and wrap herself in the duvet, setting a timer for half an hour — around the time that actually eating would take her, probably — and allows herself to close her eyes, sink into the mattress and finally drift away to sleep. At least for a couple of minutes.
...Something solid and cold touches her forehead. That's the thing that wakes her up, most likely- A contented sigh escapes her lips, the strike contrast between the touch and her own plastic skin feeling heavenly, numbing the pain constantly pulsating behind her temples. This is nice. This…
This means someone's in the room.
Her eyes snap open, though she doesn't have it in her to flinch away from the touch. Vox is leaning over her, back of his hand pressed to her forehead to check her temperature, eyebrows knit together — smoothing out only slightly as his eyes meet her own. He backs away, a small smile forming on his lips (…annoyed? mocking? worried?).
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." One of his eyebrows perks up slightly. "So I suppose this is the real reason all your meetings got cancelled, right?"
Velvette scoffs, pulling herself up to a more sitting position. Even that feels difficult; her body feels so heavy and her head feels so light, and she may sway a bit before she leans on her hands more securely.
"I told Melissa not to let anyone in." She grumbles under her breath. "Useless bitch."
"Well, an assistant wasn't going to give me orders in my own tower- You do know to train your employees better than to stand up against one of us, Velvette. Though I don't blame you for forgetting with how high your fever is."
All Velvette does is pout, narrowing her eyes at Vox.
"And… Why are you here, anyway?"
"You weren't answering my calls."
"I've said I'm busy, bitch-"
"Nor responding to Val's texts, for over two hours." He points out. She blinks at him in confusion, because what the fuck, she closed her eyes for a second- "And despite what you've told me this morning, you haven't been posting about any sorts of breaking news that would be engaging enough for you to have to rearrange your whole schedule. So I figured something must be wrong. And I was right."
Well, he was. And Velvette wasn't happy about it. She scowls, even though it makes her throat burn.
"I'm fine, you arse."
"You're burning up." Vox counters, raising an eyebrow once more. "Your voice is all hoarse, you're shaking, and, what's probably the most telling, you look like shit." She throws him a look. "Do not look at me like that, Velvette, when you know I'm right."
"So, what? You're here to tell me that I need to get myself together?" She asks, her face scrunching up. "Because I am handling this, Vee, I just overslept a bit but I can turn that into a hell of a good line of posts, believe me, and-"
"What? Velvette, no, that's- definitely not. You're not doing any more work today."
She blinks at him sluggishly, something between anger and confusion swirling in her gut. "But- Vox, you know we can't just- take days off for no fucking reason, and-"
"And you've done enough for today, and unless you rest now, we'll have bigger issues then you being offline for a couple of hours. If you really consider this being fine, then your judgement is definitely off, and we can't have you managing our socials like that, can we? Just- fuck, lie back down, I'm starting to feel like shit just from looking at you." Velvette gives him another look, but slowly lowers herself back onto the pillows. Fuck, she's too tired to even argue. Vox looks equally surprised by that, but it just flashes through his screen before he's back to his usual smile. "Good girl. Now-" his voice breaks off as a buzzing interrupts him; the overlord barely masks his annoyance as he takes out his phone, eyes scanning whatever message he got. "Fuck. I have a meeting in five, I've got to go. Just…" They lock eyes. His eyebrows furrow again. "I'll send someone to check on you."
"Bitch, the fuck- You won't-" She wants to argue, but instead she starts coughing so hard she can barely breathe for a second. Her eyes fill with tears, she's busy enough with trying to catch her breath that she barely realizes when Vox got back right to her side, hand on her shoulder. She just gives him a stern look (…as stern as she's able to, anyway). "Bitch, I've got an image. I- I haven't even done my hair, anyone sees me and it's over for me, ya hear?"
It's weird that he hasn't thought of it, considering how obsessed with their perfect brand he usually is. Now he frowns at her words, but nods.
"Valid point. No assistants. I'll ask Valentino, then." He moves away, already typing on his phone before she has a chance to argue.
"Hey, fucker, I can do just fine by myself-"
"Yes, I can tell. I've texted Val, he'll be over soon." He stops for a second, tilting his head. "Actually, when was the last time you've eaten?"
She groans, covering her eyes with her hand.
"Fuck if I know- I had toast for breakfast."
"…right. I'll order something for you. Some soup would probably help."
Velvette almost laughs at that; half-humorless, half-amused. Half-tired, half-frustrated, half-teasing.
"You keep this up, Vee, and I'll start thinking you're actually worried about me. Does the great, ruthless Vox care?"
She knows he does. He knows he does, and yet he rolls his eyes at her, before typing something on his phone again.
"All I'm doing is make sure my fellow business partner gets back in shape as soon as she can."
"You're such a loser."
"Yeah, well, don't tell your followers that and I might somehow survive it." And there's a smirk on Vox's face again. "Now, sleep. And rest that poor throat, it hurts to hear you talk."
She laughs quietly, closing her eyes. Taking Vox's advice, she doesn't comment on the fact that she feels him sitting on the edge of her bed, despite having this meeting he has to attend soon.
She's out again in minutes, anyway.
Whispered scraps of a conversation. Soft, soft unlike anything in the V Tower. Soft, like they are only when they are alone.
Soft, just like home feels.
"…not very serious, right? But, fuck, guess it takes more than just a cold to knock her out like…"
"…don't like how hot she feels, Val. I…"
"…natomy is weird. Can this high of a temperature do, like, permanent harm to her? She's plastic, can- Can she melt or something?"
"I don't know, but if that fever doesn't come down…"
And she's out again.
She's being shaken awake, but the touch is gentle. So is Valentino's smile once she opens her eyes to look at him.
"Hey there, babydoll… Didn't want to wake you, but the soup just got here. You should eat it while it's still warm."
Only when Velvette tries to nod does she realize that there's some sort of a compress on her forehead- Pleasantly chill, though probably already warmed up by the heat radiated by her forehead alone. She puts it aside for the sake of trying to sit; she props herself up, while Val adjusts the pillows for her. Even despite his clear efforts, and her firmly wrapping herself in blankets, every single move sends a shiver down her spine.
"Fuck, I feel shit."
"I know, babydoll." Valentino coos, using his one free hand to cup her cheek. "But you're going to be fine."
"I fucking know that, bitch. This is just… ugh. Annoying, more than anything." A bowl with soup gets set in her lap. It probably would've looked amazing any other day, but right now she feels no desire to eat; not exactly nauseous, but not not nauseous either. "…thanks."
Valentino pats her on the head and settles himself next to her; a TV screen on the opposite wall flickers to life, and he starts surfing the channels.
"Whatcha wanna watch? I think Voxflix has some new movies. And Vox finally got Earth's channels to work properly again." A beat of silence. "Oh, holy fuck, look at that- are they airing half the season of Love Island in one go? That's a fucking marathon-"
"It's the most valid way to watch shit like that, the fuck do you mean? We've binged two seasons of Fuck, fuck, kill in two days a few weeks ago." She points out, raising an eyebrow slightly.
"Yeah, cause it was on Voxflix? And this is, like, a literal TV channel!"
"Leave it on. At least we won't think about choosing something new for a while." She shrugs, slowly digging into her soup. It's not bad; tasty, even, and more importantly hot, which is a blessing for her aching throat. Valentino hums in agreement, setting the show up before opening whatever meal he got for himself.
They eat in relative silence, but for Valentino's comments every now and then — jokes so terrible that Velvette can't help but laugh, and she's not even that mad that it irritates her throat.
The pain meds must've kicked in, because she thinks she finally got some more-or-less peaceful sleep. She doesn't know how long it's been when she opens her eyes, but judging by the difference between the last episode of Love Island she remembers watching and this one, it must've been a hot minute.
The sound is turned on the lower side, but where she could still make out the words. She was, again, wrapped up in blankets, a cool compress on her forehead, and a hand gently running through her hair.
Velvette doesn't need to look to know that it's Valentino still there. She just knows, by his touch, quiet humming every now and then, the gentle sound of pencil on paper. She's kind of curious what he's drawing, but she doesn't have the strength to ask. And, on second thought, she's actually not that sure is she wants to know.
She closes her eyes. The show's contestants are having some sort of a fight, bleeped out yelling quiet in the speakers. Valentino huffs out a laugh.
She lets herself fall into the blissful stage of the in-between, where she's not asleep, but not awake, either- not conscious enough to process anything around her, but conscious enough to know that despite feeling shit, she feels safe.
Love Island is no longer playing, the next time she opens her eyes. The TV is on, but only to display what song is currently playing on Voxify; something from Vox's work playlist, that she can tell even without looking at the screen. The sound of a keyboard clicking and clacking can be heard from her right.
She pushes herself up, trying to rub sleep out of her eyes. How can she be so tired after sleeping for half a day, she has no idea. The sounds of writing abruptly die out, and she meets Vox's gaze soon enough; he's sitting in her beanbag, legs stretched out and laptop on his lap. Eyes on her.
"Hey." How quiet, how soft he sounds. "How are you feeling?"
"Shitty. Not much better." She huffs, but adjust herself on the bed so she's sitting; leaning heavily on the headrest, on the pillows, but sitting. "But… a bit better, I guess."
He hums, eyes jumping back to the laptop for just a minute, and he writes for just a moment more, before he puts it aside. He crosses the few steps that separate them swiftly, before putting the back of his palm to her forehead.
"Well, the fever reducers seem to be doing their job, at the very least." He nods to himself, taking the hand back. "Want some tea?"
Velvette doesn't answer; just nods. Her eyes follow Vox as he walks further into the room, eyelids dropping only slightly as she listens to the sound of water pouring, then boiling.
"You caught us a bit off guard with being this… out of commission. Gave Val- Gave us a bit of a scare, even." His voice finally comes, tone fairly neutral, maybe edging on his usual annoyed manner. "Tell us sooner, next time you get sick."
Velvette rolls her eyes.
"Fuck you, I was handling it just fine-"
"That's very nice, dear. Next time you're handling it just fine, tell us sooner."
She groans, cheek dropping on the pillow. His steps echo through the room as he walks back, handing her one cup, leaving the other (his beloved coffee, if she's to guess) for himself and returning to his spot in the beanbag.
Silence falls between them. She sips on the tea. He starts writing on the laptop again. Then the clicking of keys stops again. A beat. Two.
"Why didn't you call either of us to say you're sick?"
Velvette raises her eyebrows, eyes darting over to where he's sitting.
"What?"
"You heard. You should've let us know; we would've handled your duties so you could've rest since the morning. So why didn't you?"
She huffs.
"Why'd ya think? We're the Vees. We're perfect. We don't show, fucking… weakness."
"Yeah, to the world. But you should know that the image shown on the big screens is not the actual truth. Or rather, it's the truth only because people believe in it. And we can be masters at covering stuff up, but we can only hide the cracks we're aware of." He takes a sip of his drink. "Our reputation is our common responsibility. It also means that when one part of our team gets fucked up one way or another, the others cover for them up until they're back in the game. But they can only do that if they know what's happening; otherwise, we're all fucked. Alright?"
Velvette manages a smirk.
"I think you're not the one to talk, Mr. Work 'til ya drop."
Vox rolls his eyes.
"This is not about me, this is about…"
"I mean, do you follow these rules? Because as far as I know, usually me and Val have to figure out by ourselves that you're overworking yourself again, and drag you to the penthouse before-"
"VEL." Her face scrunches up at Vox's raised voice; he must notice, because — raising his eyes to the ceiling — he takes a second to calm his nerves, then sighs. "Noted. Just- I mean it. Let us know next time. It'll save us all trouble."
She feels like there's still shit unsaid, but she's too tired to push him or tease him any more. She just smiles — this time softer, more genuine.
"Kay, darlin'." She takes another sip of her tea. "…thanks."
"Don't mention it."
Another beat of relative silence. A lively melody plays in the background; some random song that was probably on top of the charts in the 50's. Velvette mindlessly stares somewhere into space for a few minutes, before she finally speaks up again.
"You mind if I put something on, or are you super focused right now?"
"Oh, go ahead- I just switched it once Val left, since you were asleep anyhow- but obviously, watch whatever you want, I don't mind."
Velvette hums softly, grabbing the remote from the nightstand and navigating back to the channel she was watching with Val before — wondering how much of the drama she must've missed asleep.
"We were binging one season of Love Island, yknow- this Earth reality show. They're playing it like, 24/7 for… whatever reason. But it got me thinking, maybe we could make a channel dedicated to-"
"No, we're not making a channel dedicated to playing re-runs of I fucked your sister, so what- Do you and Val share a fucking braincell?"
Velvette laughs, and despite the pain, she doesn't regret a thing even as it eventually turns into another coughing fit.
Velvette still has no appetite, but the soup is soothing enough on her throat that when Valentino comes back from the shoot with takeout for dinner, she doesn't even complain about having to eat it. She doesn't complain about Val and Vox settling themselves next to her in her bed, either. Just grumbles something about how they're not allowed to blame her if they catch whatever bug she has. In reality though, she doesn't want them to go; not really, when Val's warm presence next to her is so soothing, the sound of Vox's systems running so familiar.
Vox does complain, because they make him watch Love Island with them; he's forced to agree though, because Velvette's brain is way too fried to try to process anything else. His pleas to put on even the stupidest movie in existence, come on, anything- are ignored by both Velvette and Valentino.
Valentino complains a bit too, but just for the sake of complaining, it seems. And to tease Vox.
The clock shows minutes slowly ticking further into the night, and while Velvette can't deny still feeling shitty, even with the cough, the headache, with cold shivers wrecking her body every now and again… When she has her friends bickering at her side, there's a warm feeling in her chest.
She's home.