Work Text:
Vox smoothed down his V-neck grey sweater, adjusting the tan hat atop his boxy head for the umpteenth time as butterflies fluttered in his stomach. With a calming exhale, he took a moment to admire the warm and welcoming interior of the jazz club, the bar and booths made of dark brown mahogany wood with gold trim. The podium was empty of musicians at the moment, a piano and more at the ready as gentle music played through the speakers. The theme was a bit dated in his opinion, but Alastor frequented the place, so he put up with it.
Speaking of, he quickly flagged the bartender when he heard the tell-tale hiss of static that was the Radio Demon arriving. Vermillion eyes glanced at him with amusement as Vox snagged two glasses and made his way over to him.
"Hey, Alastor — I mean, hey Al." Vox quickly toned down his enthusiasm, looking to keep things casual as he held out a glass of Sazerac. "Another broadcast flawlessly executed. Bravo."
The deer demon gave a lazy shrug but took the glass all the same as he sat at the piano bench, his tattered coattails billowing out in a deft motion.
"What did you expect from Hell's most dangerous Overlord and number one Sinner, Number Two?" He took a delicate sip, his eyes momentarily taking on the form of radio dials as his grin sharpened.
Vox rolled his eyes. After his death and landing in Hell, he'd had to start over from the bottom and work his way up to his current strength. It'd been an agonizing and, frankly, humbling slog, where he could trust no one and had to adjust to suddenly having a TV for a head!
Even so, there were things he'd found himself looking forward to… the broadcasts of the Radio Demon for one. After a period of tuning in and amassing his own following, he'd finally gotten to meet his hero and a tenuous one-sided acquaintanceship formed.
But maybe that could change...
"Yeah, I know. You're Number One, I'm Number Two. You're starting to sound like a broken record, Al."
"And don't you forget it, pal." His fingers danced over the keys, as if he could hear the sonata of misery he was composing. "It's been most entertaining to witness decades-long reigns come to an end. Old rivalries igniting, new alliances forming and breaking, and brother turning on brother as this world's status quo tumbled down like a house of cards." His antlers grew as he spoke, the dials in his eyes beginning to spin rapidly. "And I'm there to watch, to delight in every twist and turn as I broadcast their follies and my triumphs to the masses, securing my name goes down in history as the strongest demon of all time!"
Vox's cooling fans went on overdrive to hide his blush, finding Al's theatrics strangely endearing. "After all we've been through, does the fearsome Radio Demon mind sharing the spotlight?" he asked, attempting to gauge the other's reaction.
His eyes fell on him and grinned, morphing back to his normal state with a pop and crackle of static.
"…Perhaps." Alastor replied noncommittally. "My name, then, spacebar, spacebar, spacebar, spacebar, your name."
Well, at least he didn't outright decide to tear him to shreds. "Sure."
Playing a few chords, Alastor began to sing.
"I'm Number One, you're Number Two.
We're demons at large, but I'm larger than you."
Vox rolled his eyes at the repeated reminder, Alastor setting a hand to his heart.
"I'm Number One, you're Number Two.
I believe in equality, so long as you get less than me."
Alastor aggressively slammed the keyboard cover shut at the end, Vox quickly pulling his hands away just in time. The deer demon slid off the bench, a vaudeville up-tempo starting as Vox quickly followed the deer making his way toward the back of the establishment.
"I'm Number one."
"You're Number One." Vox replied dryly.
Walking backwards, Alastor held up a pair of fingers. "You're Number Twoooo."
The TV-head acquiesced. "I'm Number Two."
A tap on Vox's shoulder and he glanced over, Alastor disappearing from view as he kept turning to the smug singing in his ear.
"You may think you're smarter, but I'm smarter-er than you."
Shaking his head when Alastor manifested in front of him, the deer demon twirled his staff in his face.
"I'm Number One, you're Number Twoooo." A tap on Vox's screen before he turned and gripped the door handle.
"You're lucky to be Number Two not Number Three!"
"GAH!" Vox groaned, Alastor jerking the door open and catching the TV-demon in the face before he could react.
Rubbing his screen as he moved into the second-floor fire escape overlooking the neon-light lit alleyway, Alastor faced him with a wide grin, shoulders bopping in rhythm with the music.
"I can see by the look in your eye.
You want a get a bigger piece of the pie.
Maybe someday you'll get your chance.
But while we're waiting: dance, TV, dance!"
Vox's face fell. "Really? I hate dancing..." He said that, but the few taps of his toes turned into a series of simple steps, a click here, a clack there and soon his polished dress shoes drummed against the concrete of the fire escape floor.
"Dance, TV, dance! Ha-ha!"
Even if he felt utterly ridiculous, Alastor's delighted face made it worth it in Vox's eyes. Awkwardly dipping and swinging his hands around in an attempt to mimic musical-theater style movement, he tap-danced partway down the steps, taking a seat on the landing.
"I'm Number Two, he's Number Ooone."
Vox threw a thumb up at Alastor with a deadpan expression, the latter enjoying all this far too much.
"I can't believe I'm second to a Radio demon.
I'm Number Two, he's Number Ooone."
"I'm Number One!" Alastor echoed vaingloriously.
"You'd thought rock bottom was here?
My superior's a fucking deer!"
Pointing back incredulously, Vox stood and tapped his way the rest of the way down.
"I can see it's just a matter of time.
Before I catch up and join him at the front of the line."
Vox spun in place and outstretched his arms, already visualizing his future partnership.
"It won't be long 'til I get my chance."
His face slumped into a deadpan.
"But in the meantime: I'll dance, TV, dance."
Resigned to biding his time, the TV-headed man put on a forced smile as he hopped, skipped, and shimmied, his feet becoming black blurs.
"Dance, TV, dance!" Alastor crowed before he started his own dance number. "Now me!"
Trumpets wailed in between piano riffs as both demons tapped, scuffed, and shuffled with practiced fluidity in the alleyway, the imagery of the pair being on different levels striking.
Alastor was the first to break the dance-off. "I'm Number One!"
"He's Number One!" Vox reprised in a bright tone, climbing up the stairs and accepting the theatrical rivalry.
"You're Number Twooo!"
Putting out his arms when he stood beside Alastor, Vox yelled up to the heavens. "I'm Number Two!"
Watching Vox continue to sway back and forth with a merry grin, Alastor chuckled and tapped his chin. "That's it pal, there you go—"
Before roughly shoving the TV-headed man off-screen with a crash, his toothy smile inching up.
"Now step aside, this ain't your show!"
Jumping back into the jazz club, Alastor took Vox's hand and both took turns twisting and turning as the song was reaching its crescendo.
"I'm One!"
"You're One."
"I'm Number One!"
"Yes, we knooow."
Vox's grin nearly split his face in half, the club blurring as the two swung round and around. Vox nearly forgetting his part as Alastor pulled him back in, their chest almost touching even as their feet continued to move wildly beneath them.
"IIIIIIIII/Heeeeee's Number Ooooone!"
The song finished with a bang, and Vox was dipped low to the ground, faces nearly touching as the world seemed to still around them. There was no audience, no onlookers, just light, and breath, and those brilliant vermillion irises staring down at him. The man in question didn't appear to have broken a sweat, his hairstyle still perfectly arranged, save for one or two flyaway strands.
— Only for the pull of gravity to break the spell, Vox landing on his back with a surprised "oof."
"That's how it's done." Alastor uttered, dusting himself off and already striding off to the bar, uncaring that he left Vox sprawled on the floor.
Heat rippled across his circuits and Vox just laid there for a moment longer.
One day, he'd get strong enough and take the plunge to offer Alastor a deal. Radio AND video. They'd rule Hell, together, as partners.