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“Honey, I’m home!” Vox practically sings, stomping through his bedroom doors, twirling and prancing around the room.
Alastor rolls his eyes, lazily spinning himself on the chair he was currently “imprisoned” in. It was a very loose phrase, the wires were barely tight enough to prevent him from moving around. “Ah, so you are.” He says with slight contempt.
“Did you miss me?” Vox continues, playing the doting husband role. “I bet you did. But, don’t worry, sweetheart-I brought home dinner!”
“Hmm, how thoughtful.” Alastor jokes, eying the corpse with interest.
It’s been a few days since Alastor had turned himself in as Vox’s prisoner. Truthfully, he’s expected more gruesome torture, maybe a few beatings, electrocutions, or perhaps even Vox would force Alastor do things he would never dream of doing. But, of course, Vox can be somewhat unpredictable. On the rarest occasions, of course. Because instead, Vox has dawned on a devoted husband roleplay that Alastor ended up joining…for some reason.
“Can you set the table for me, dear? I’ll get the food prepared for us.” Vox calls out as he chuckles, as if the whole thing is a joke. But, they’ve been doing this dance for a while now, with no end in sight. Alastor briefly wonders what exactly the punchline is.
“Hm, anything for my dearest, of course.” Alastor chimes in, rolling his way towards Vox’s work desk. They were both in his bedroom, so there were no actual plates or utensils to “prepare”. He couldn’t manifest his shadows because he was also “imprisoned”, so he just…placed himself on the other end of the table.
Vox seems to find the whole thing hilarious, because he’s giggling his entire way over to the desk. The corpse let out a disgusting squelch sound as Vox delicately placed it before Alastor to eat. In Vox’s free hand, he carried a brown, greasy paper bag-with what Alastor can only assume was a burger with a side of fries.
“So, what’d you do today while I was gone, baby?” Vox asks, laughing at the intimate nickname. He asks the question while his mouth is stuffed with burger remnants, Alastor preens at the sight of it.
Alastor lets out a sarcastic, woeful sigh after he takes a big bite out of the corpse before him. “Well, I rolled around to the edge of your bed and back, counted backwards from one million, and I missed you, is what I did.” He says, continuing their little charade. The joke is somewhat lost on Alastor, but he can’t let Vox think he has won any sort of mind games he wishes to torture him with.
“Aw, I missed you, too!” Vox gleefully proclaims, taking another big, ridiculous bite out of his food. “Say, it feels nice coming home to this.” He continues, chewing whilst he talks.
“Right…” Alastor begrudgingly agrees, furrowing his brows in disgust as burger bits manage to stick on Vox’s screen.
“Well, honey.” Vox drawls after taking another bite. “I went over some business meetings-” Whatever that meant. Alastor thought, carefully chewing his food thoroughly, unlike the careless freak sitting across from him. “-settled petty squabbles over at the second ring, I heard some imp’s been going up into the human world, sounds fucking crazy, right?” Vox guffaws.
“Oh, sure, my dear.” Alastor tuts, “Very crazy. Dare I say, more crazy compared to your plan to take over Heaven.” He teases, because he knows Vox will react.
“Hey! My plan is way more crazy than whatever some low-life imp is doing, and way cooler, too.” Vox practically spits out, with a childish defense that only an insecure, petty man can carry. Burger pieces land across the table, landing right on Alastor’s rotting corpse.
The sight disgusts Alastor so much, he reaches over (because again, the restraints are so loose, they’re practically just there as decoration) and wipes Vox’s crumbs away from his face. “Stop talking with your mouth full! Have you no manners? Do you want to choke, is that what you want to do?” Alastor negs on, berating the other media demon. “No husband of mine should ever have table manners as dreadful as you.”
Vox gulps his food down, eyes wide open. “Of course…it won’t happen again.” The joke is starting to get lost between them. It occurred to Alastor that this was the first time one of them actually spoke about the strangely intimate, slightly homoerotic, roleplay that they both suddenly…fell into.
“Hm,” Alastor continues, baring his fangs as he takes another, albeit a little harsh, bite into the corpse’s thigh. He chews before he speaks, as one should. Vox is glaring at him, probably impatiently, that only eggs Alastor to chew even more thoroughly. “I don’t know why I just can’t seem to believe that, given that you’ve fallen back with nearly all of your promises.”
Vox splutters, he looks like a chicken, Alastor bemuses. “Well, maybe I’m feeling a bit backstabby since you rejected my marriage proposal first.” Vox says, pettily.
“Marriage proposal?” Alastor asks, raising his eyebrows. “Since when did you…” Then, Alastor rummages through his memories of nearly seven decades of knowing the television demon. And, lands on that one faithful day, where he dismisses Vox’s partnership. Ah, of course.
Vox seems to pick up on when Alastor remembers, because he speaks once more. “Yeah, I bent down on one knee for you.” He says, dramatically rearranging the story to fit into whatever play they’ve put themselves in.
Alastor snorts, “You did no such thing.” He shakes his head, as if the mere thought of Vox getting on his knees was unbelievable.
“Yes, I did.” Vox insists, because of course he would.
“Hm, I’m afraid I’ve completely forgotten! How dreadful.” Alastor cruelly sings, taking another bite of his meal.
“How could you forget?! I bent down on my knee, proposed with a shiny, huge diamond ring-which everyone would’ve been jealous of, by the way.” Vox rambles, starting to sound offended that Alastor would forget their make-believe marriage proposal.
“Hm,” Alastor tilts his head, as if he’s completely misremembered. “It seems to have completely slipped from my mind, as if it never happened at all!” Because it didn’t. He smiles in genuine delight watching Vox’s expression change from shock to anger, like he’s really upset that Alastor forgot.
“I think,” Alastor continues. “You’ll have to reenact it for me, my dear.” He finishes, wiping his lips with the napkins Vox brought, from any blood that the corpse may have lingered.
“How rich. Of course, you’d want me to make an ass out of myself again.” Vox grunts, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. “But, who am I, if not a servant to all of my dear husband’s requests?” He says sarcastically without any real bite, almost like a lover that’s been married for far too long.
“Hah!” Alastor laughs, thinking Vox is seriously joking because there’s no way he’d actually get on one knee.
But, Vox stumps Alastor once again. Because he actually is getting on one knee. And, for some strange reason, he actually does have a ring. It’s shiny, way too extravagant, but its diamond looks sharp enough to cut. The box is blue and red, to symbolize their colors, Alastor bemuses. A few things are currently running through Alastor’s head. Like, how far is this joke willing to go, who’s going to break first, and where the hell did Vox get that ring from, and how long has it been sitting in his pocket.
“Alastor.” Vox starts, his name sounds too soft coming from his enemy’s mouth. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world, Heaven and Hell included, and marry me?”
And, Alastor can only blink and smile. As he always does in moments where he feels genuine confusion. Has this joke reached its punchline? Was Vox actually going to make Alastor break first?! No, that couldn’t be, absolutely not.
“My dear,” Alastor begins, ready to say yes, as a joke of course.
“-is what I did.” Vox cuts in, getting back into his seat, and putting the box back into his pocket, as if the whole thing never happened. “Is your memory still foggy, or do you need another presentation?”
Instead of rebutting or throwing another quip, he watches Vox carefully. He nibbles on the femur bone of the sinner, ruminating on what just happened, and how he was about to say yes. To what? Prove a point? Continue their little…play? The restraints have loosened quite a bit, allowing Alastor to move his limbs more freely. Was he even a prisoner at this point? Alastor thinks as he chews on the sinner’s forearm, his fangs pierce into the rotten flesh, savoring the aged taste. Perhaps, it’s best to let silence find its way into the conversation, enjoy the food and just ignore once more their little charade.
But, then Vox guffaws as he mindlessly scrolls through his vPhone, and the burger particles manage to land right on Alastor’s face this time.
“Ah, my dear.” Alastor says, gritting his teeth. “I actually do believe my memory is quite foggy.”
“Fuck off. You’re tricking me, you’re just going to say no again.” Vox grumbles, keeping his eyes on whatever captured his attention as he scrolled.
“Mm, that’s not what I remember, sweetheart.” Alastor chimes in with a grin.
That makes Vox look up. “Uh, that is what happened.” Vox presses, shutting his phone and placing it down next to his plate. Alastor lets out a small hum at the sight.
“Come now, baby.” Alastor glimmers in the way Vox flushes at the nickname. “Humor me, won’t you?”
And, of course, Vox is a weak, weak man. He smoothes out his dress shirt, gallantly wipes away any remaining crease on his fingertips, and places himself back on his knee, directly by Alastor’s feet. He’s taking a more dramatic approach, this time, Alastor chuckles. Vox’s movements are smooth like honey as he reaches into his pocket, it could make one flushed, Alastor reasons. That would explain why Alastor suddenly feels…something.
“My dearest, Alastor,” Vox dramatically starts once again, they both end up snickering at how serious it sounds. Vox presents the ring, it glistens against the dark, red sky, clashing against the blue hues of Vox’s room. “I wish to have you for all of eternity-”
“Like imprisonment, perhaps?” Alastor quips, earning a scowl from Vox. Ha-ha, just let me finish, prick. Alastor giggles at Vox’s little outburst, leaning against his claws, staring into Vox’s figure with a small smile in amusement.
“If that’s what you want from me.” Vox retorts, rolling his shoulders back to ease any tension. He looks like he’s trying to play a character in a romantic novel, finally proposing during its climax. “I’ll be whatever you want, whatever man you want me to become. I could be smarter, funnier, more bloodthirsty, if you’d want. I could even be nothing-just as long as I’m yours, and you’re mine. I’ll do anything to make you the happiest sinner in all of eternity. Will you marry me, Alastor?” Vox finishes, his voice theatrically deep and woeful.
“I think you’re utterly pathetic.” Alastor finally says, after a few seconds pass. He ignores the way he feels every inch of his fabric against his frame, the way the restraints languidly fall around his waist, and instead, focuses on the very demon before him. He doesn’t know if he wants to kill Vox or eat him, or rip him into shreds and stab him multiple times in various different parts of his body.
“Pathetic,” Vox parrots with a small smile, “Yeah, I could be that, too.”
“Well, my dear.” Alastor starts again, much quicker this time, lest Vox puts the ring back in his pocket once more. “I do.” He says, saying each word with declaration, it’s supposed to come off as a joke, but neither of them really know how far they’re willing to go anymore.
Vox, on the other hand, short-circuits.
He falls, unceremoniously, straight on his ass and flails like a bird trying to keep the ring from falling out of his grasp. His feedback clashes against Alastor’s own, and it hurts a bit, honestly, but Alastor likes it. It riles him up even more, Vox-not so much. Vox’s face glitch into a myriad of different images, an exclamation point, an alarm sound, and a bright blue blush paired with his wide, round eyes. At the chaos of it all, Alastor tilts his head back and laughs. He laughs so cruelly until his inside starts to hurt, until they both could hear nothing but the howls of his laughter.
“Ha-ha, very funny.” Vox says, scowling slightly and plopping himself back onto his side of the table. His burger is nearly fully eaten, and his leftover fries have turned slightly soggy from the grease.
“Hm, very much so, darling.” Alastor tuts, shivering away any strange feeling that dared to grow in his chest.
Neither of them really mention what happened after that. Nothing they ever do gets talked about, not a single glance, a step too close, jealous, lingering looks when one is away from the other, nothing. Alastor continues to leave snide, petty remarks making Valentino jealous. Vox continues to keep Alastor near him at all times, showing him each blueprint, each plan he has to take over Heaven. As if nothing ever happened.
That is, until the two of them are alone again.
“Where did you even get the ring from, Vox?” Alastor questions one evening, feeling dreadfully bored as he twirls around in his chair.
Vox had just finished his little show against Heaven, embarrassing Lucifer, and riling up the sinners. The television demon was hunched over his desk, carefully analyzing the graphs of his ratings, laughing maniacally, watching the scale climb higher and higher.
It was…commendable, Alastor concludes, pushing his legs to roll his way into Vox’s blue desk.
“What-huh, the ring?” Vox questions, swiping away some random graph. They were all basically the same, with an arrow pointing up diagonally.
“Yes, Vox. The ring.” Alastor says irritatedly, repeating himself once more.
“Uh,” Vox was blushing slightly now, he seemed to be doing that a lot more now that Alastor was around. It was an entertaining sight to see, he always did like making Vox make the silliest expressions. It was just so incredibly easy.
“I’ve had it. For a while.” Vox answers, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to appear at ease or indifferent.
“Is that so?” Alastor responds, playing with whatever items were lying haphazardly on Vox’s desk. A few shark pencils, some black, blue, and red pens, and a stale cup of coffee next to a pile of paperwork. “And, by a while, you mean, seventy years?” He jokes, recalling their little…roleplay from a few weeks ago that they’ve both been tactlessly avoiding. Alastor stops at a little drawing of him on a post-it note. It’s a stick figure version of him holding his staff, with labels such as furry, dumb hair, and triangle ass.
“Seems that drawing is not in the arsenal of skills that you possess, my dear.” Alastor says snide-fully.
He expects Vox to retort back, maybe insult Alastor’s own drawing skills, or lack thereof. But, instead, it’s just silence. Silence for too long, so Alastor lifts his gaze ready to say something mean back…and locks onto Vox’s bright, blue blush that seemed to take up half of his face, with a quivering lip and flickering eyes.
Vox still wasn’t saying anything, just opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Alastor suddenly feels his own smile twitch slightly. The same feeling from before creeping into his chest and threatening to burst all around his body. He wanted the ring to be just a jest, perhaps a fake ring made of glass instead of diamond. He wanted Vox to admit it to his face. Or, maybe if it was a real ring, that it was meant for Valentino. The thought of that made the burning feeling in his chest turn sour. But, Vox was doing none of the options Alastor had concluded he’d do.
Just like before, silence makes its way back into the conversation.
And, this time, Alastor doesn’t want to break it. Instead, he turns his gaze away, and focuses back on the little trinkets on Vox’s desk. Both of them are looking at everything else, but each other. Each with a blush and strangled expression, like they can’t decide between killing each other…or maybe, something else that neither of them want to risk putting a name to.
So love me or leave me,
make your choice but believe me
I love you
I do, I do, I do, I do, I do